Chapter 50: Too Far For Comfort

The elevator doors closed behind them with a soft chime. Kane waited until they were alone in the corridor before letting out a dramatic exhale.

"Well, that was intense. I’ve never seen so much money spent on food that tiny before."

Cyrus didn’t respond, his face unreadable as he slid the keycard into their suite door.

Inside their suite, Kane immediately kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the plush sofa, sinking into its cushions with a satisfied groan.

He loosened his collar, popping open the top two buttons.

"Bernard’s definitely hiding something about that chalice. Did you see how he perked up when you showed interest?"

Cyrus entered behind him, movements deliberate as he removed his suit jacket and hung it with precise care.

He rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his cuffs, his silence carrying a subtle tension.

Kane glanced over, noting the rigid set of Cyrus’s shoulders. He assumed it was leftover strain from their verbal sparring with Bernard.

"So, what’s the plan? Charm the chalice out of him at this masquerade thing?" Kane stretched his arms above his head.

"Though I’ve got to say, Bob seemed pretty normal for being Bernard’s son. Weird, right?"

Cyrus’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as he turned toward the bar without answering.

Kane’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He picked it up, eyebrows rising as he read the message.

"Huh. It’s Bob. Says there’s a sunrise yoga class tomorrow morning on the upper deck if I want to join."

Cyrus turned from the bar, glass in hand. "He has your number?"

"Yeah, got it while you were busy dealing with Daddy Holloway." Kane typed a quick reply.

"We exchanged info when you were discussing those Mesopotamian tablets or whatever."

"Right." Cyrus’s voice carried an edge as he took a measured sip from his glass.

Kane glanced up from his phone.

"He’s invited me to a few activities tomorrow. Yoga, some wine tasting thing, and apparently there’s a cooking class where they teach you to make authentic Greek pastries."

Cyrus set his glass down with a sharp clink.

"And you think entertaining the Holloway boy is a good use of our limited time?"

"Actually, yeah." Kane sat up straighter.

"Bob might know something about his father’s collection. Plus, it gives you a break from dragging me around everywhere."

"A break?" Cyrus’s voice was dangerously quiet.

"Come on, we’ve been attached at the hip since this whole karmic bond thing started." Kane gestured between them.

"Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted five minutes to yourself."

Cyrus’s expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes—a momentary flash of... something Kane couldn’t quite identify.

"The bond—"

"Has a range," Kane finished.

"The ship’s big, but not that big. We’ll stay within the safe distance. You can do whatever dragon CEOs do for fun, and I’ll see what I can learn from Bob."

Cyrus crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing.

"It just seemed too convenient that Bernard Holloway’s son is suddenly so interested in spending time with you."

"Maybe he just appreciates my sparkling personality," Kane grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Not everyone finds me as annoying as you do."

Cyrus exhaled slowly, his expression carefully neutral despite the uncomfortable sensation churning in his chest.

"Fine," he finally said, turning away to hide whatever might show on his face.

"Just don’t wander too far. I have no desire to spend my day tracking you down because you’ve triggered it."

Kane shot him a mock salute. "Understood, boss."

"I mean it, Kane. Push the boundaries of our bond, and you’ll find yourself in trouble."

Kane saluted again, this time with exaggerated flair and a cheeky grin.

"Message received, loud and clear. I’ll be a good little fox." He backed toward his bedroom door, tail swishing behind him.

"Night, Cyrus."

The door clicked shut, leaving Cyrus alone in the sudden quiet of the suite.

He stood motionless for several moments before moving to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The moonlight painted silver streaks across the endless black sea. Far below, waves crashed against the ship’s hull—restless, ceaseless.

Something about the churning waters mirrored the unsettled feeling in his chest.

The first rays of morning light slipped through the curtains as Cyrus opened his eyes.

He felt it immediately—a subtle but unmistakable tug in his chest, like an invisible thread being gently pulled. Kane was no longer in the suite.

Cyrus sat up. The bond wasn’t painful yet, just... present.

He checked his phone. No messages from Kane, just an online meeting request for later that morning.

Rising from bed, Cyrus moved to the window and drew back the curtains.

The Mediterranean stretched before him, impossibly blue against the morning sky.

Far below on the sun deck, he spotted two figures on yoga mats. One with silver-white hair catching the light. The other, broader-shouldered and laughing at something.

Kane and Bob.

The tug in his chest intensified slightly as he watched them. Kane demonstrated some ridiculous pose that made Bob double over with laughter.

Cyrus turned away from the window, rubbing absently at his sternum where the sensation centered.

He settled at the desk, laptop open before him.

The suite felt strangely empty without Kane’s constant chatter, but he pushed that thought aside and immersed himself in work emails.

Hours passed and the sunlight shifted across the room, painting the walls in progressively warmer hues as afternoon deepened.

Cyrus barely noticed the passage of time as he responded to messages from Isabelle regarding Veyr Corp operations.

He glanced at his watch. Six hours since Kane had left. The fox hadn’t even messaged him.

"Good," Cyrus muttered, though the word fell flat in the empty suite.

Outside, the sky turned amber, then violet. Dusk settled over the ship. Cyrus closed his laptop and stretched, surprised at how much time had passed.

Suddenly, a knife-like pain stabbed through his chest.

He gasped, doubling over as the sensation intensified—like someone had wrapped barbed wire around his lungs and pulled tight.

The karmic bond.

Cyrus staggered to his feet, one hand pressed against his sternum.

"Something’s wrong."

Kane was too far away, or in danger, or both.