Chapter — The Sound of Waves
Rain devoured the city whole.
The black convoy sliced through the empty highway like shadows moving through water, headlights cutting briefly across the storm before darkness swallowed them again. Inside the backseat of the lead car, Orion Falco sat in silence, one elbow resting against the window while cigarette smoke curled lazily through the dim interior.
His knuckles were bruised.
A faint streak of dried blood still marked the collar of his black shirt.
But his eyes—
His eyes looked somewhere far away.
Lightning flashed across the sky.
Then suddenly—
The car jerked violently.
A harsh grinding sound echoed beneath the vehicle before the engine died completely.
Silence.
The driver froze instantly.
Outside, rain hammered against the windshield with terrifying force.
For a moment nobody moved.
Then Orion leaned back slowly and shut his eyes.
A low laugh escaped him.
Not amusement.
Just exhaustion.
The driver nearly stopped breathing.
"S-sir…" he stammered nervously. "I—I apologize. The engine… I think something failed—"
Orion waved a lazy hand.
"Get an umbrella," he murmured. "I'll take the car behind us."
"Yes, sir."
The driver scrambled out immediately into the storm.
But seconds passed.
Then a minute.
Nothing.
Orion frowned slightly.
The rain kept falling.
Finally the driver returned to the window looking pale.
"There's… no car behind us, sir."
Orion's eyes lifted slowly.
"What?"
"The convoy…" The driver swallowed hard. "It's gone."
For the first time that night, genuine confusion crossed Orion's face.
He stepped out into the rain.
Cold water drenched him instantly, soaking through the black fabric of his shirt as thunder rolled across the sky. The deserted road stretched endlessly into darkness.
Empty.
No headlights.
No guards.
No engines.
Only rain.
The driver stood trembling beside him, waiting for rage.
Waiting for death.
Instead Orion tilted his head slightly.
"…What is that sound?"
The driver blinked. "Sir?"
"That sound," Orion repeated quietly.
The man listened carefully.
"I… hear nothing, sir."
Orion frowned deeper.
"No." His voice softened strangely. "There's water."
The driver looked confused before realization dawned.
"We're near the western shore, sir," he said carefully. "Those are probably the waves."
The waves.
Orion went still.
For several long seconds, he simply stared into the darkness beyond the road.
Then slowly—
he removed his watch.
Handed it to the driver.
Then the umbrella.
The man looked horrified. "Sir, you'll get sick—"
"Take it."
The driver obeyed instantly.
Orion reached into the car, grabbed the half-finished wine bottle beside the seat, and started walking toward the sound of the ocean.
Alone.
—
The rain softened near the shore.
Not gentler.
Just quieter.
Waves crashed endlessly against the rocks below, silver beneath the storm clouds, wild and restless like a living thing breathing in the dark.
Orion stepped onto the wet sand slowly.
The cold water touched his shoes.
He stopped.
Years.
It had been years since he last heard the sea properly.
A strange chuckle escaped him.
"…Still loud," he murmured.
The wind swallowed the words instantly.
He loosened the first few buttons of his shirt absently before sitting on a large rock near the water, the wine bottle hanging loosely from his fingers.
The ocean stretched endlessly before him.
Dark.
Infinite.
Lonely.
And somehow—
all he could think about was her.
Little Elina.
Tiny hands.
Tiny shoes.
Tiny angry face.
A real laugh escaped him this time.
"She used to waddle," he muttered under his breath.
The memory came suddenly.
Bright enough to hurt.
—
"ORI!"
A tiny girl stomped across the sand furiously, her cheeks puffed in outrage while carrying a broken pink bucket almost bigger than herself.
"You ruined my house!"
Sixteen-year-old Orion looked down lazily from where he sat beneath the umbrella.
"The waves ruined it."
"You called the waves!"
"I control the sea."
"You're lying."
"Prove it."
Little Elina gasped dramatically.
Then threw sand at him.
Orion burst out laughing.
—
The sound faded.
Only waves remained.
Orion leaned back against the rock, rain sliding through his dark hair.
He had been five or six when Lucien Valmont first brought him into the estate.
A servant's orphaned son.
A boy with nothing.
Then later—
a bodyguard.
Trained since thirteen.
Taught how to fight before he properly learned how to live.
Lucien had trusted him with only one thing in the world.
Elina.
Protect her.
Always.
Orion closed his eyes.
What a joke.
The boy who once carried her on his shoulders had become the man who destroyed her life.
Thunder cracked violently above.
But the memories kept coming.
—
"Sit properly!" little Elina ordered.
Teenage Orion looked down at the ridiculous dollhouse tea set.
"I'm not drinking invisible tea."
"You're the husband!"
"I never agreed to marriage."
"You did yesterday."
"I was kidnapped."
"You're rude."
"You bite people."
"You deserved it."
She shoved a fake flower crown onto his head proudly.
"There. Now you look pretty."
Orion stared at her in disbelief.
Then sighed deeply.
"…Princess, if the mafia ever sees me like this, I'll lose all respect."
"What's mafia?"
"Good question."
—
Orion covered his eyes suddenly with one hand.
A broken laugh escaped him.
God.
She had been so small.
So unbearably small.
And somehow—
she had become his entire world without him realizing it.
The waves crashed harder.
Rain drenched him completely now, soaking through his clothes, but he barely noticed.
At sixteen he had gone abroad.
At nineteen he became feared.
At twenty-one men started killing merely at the mention of his name.
At twenty-three he owned cities.
But somewhere between the blood, the guns, the power—
he had lost the only thing that ever felt human.
Her.
Orion uncapped the wine bottle and drank straight from it.
The alcohol burned down his throat.
It did nothing.
He stared at the sea quietly.
Then laughed again under his breath.
"You used to force-feed me sand cakes," he murmured toward the waves. "Psychopath."
Another memory surfaced immediately.
—
"Eat it."
"It's sand."
"It's chocolate."
"Elina."
"Eat."
"You're a dictator."
"You're my husband."
"…This marriage is ending tomorrow."
—
Orion smiled despite himself.
A real one.
Small.
Young.
For one dangerous moment, he no longer looked like the Devil of the underworld.
He just looked twenty-three.
Then the smile disappeared.
Because now—
she looked at him with fear.
The same girl who once slept on his shoulder during long car rides now trembled when he entered a room.
That realization hollowed something inside him.
A massive wave suddenly crashed against the rocks, splashing freezing water across him completely.
Years ago little Elina would have laughed endlessly at that.
And without thinking—
Orion laughed too.
A full laugh.
Warm.
Alive.
The sound startled even him.
Then silence returned.
And slowly—
his expression broke.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just quietly.
Like something ancient finally growing tired.
He lowered his head, rain dripping from his lashes.
"You were supposed to hate your father," he whispered into the storm.
His voice cracked slightly.
"…not me."
The ocean swallowed the words whole.