Tobias' cheeks flushed a deep crimson in an instant, a clear sign he was caught off guard.

"Ye—yes, but Queena toldto zip it," he stammered.

Abner, eyebrow quirked, leaned on his cane and made a slow circuit of the scene.

The helping hands were all locals, born and bred in the village. The place was remote, tucked away so that even a trip to the

nearest town meant an afternoon's journey by bus.

Fishing was the lifeline here, with villagers drying their catches to sell as fish jerky. If they snagged something rare, they'd haul it to

town to hawk to the eateries that catered to tourists.

Abner's presence was magnetic; where he strolled, eyes followed. His stature alone was enough to pique curiosity, prompting

whispers and nudges directed at Tobias.

"Has your family always had such a handsrelative?"

"Nah, he ain't family. Queena's the one who fished him out of trouble. My dad brought him back."

As Abner stepped into the Temple family home, Queena's voice greeted him.

"You're still on the mend. Don't wander off now."

The interior was tidy, everything in its place, with a closed door at the far end—likely where the person Tobias mentioned was kept.

Abner had a simple plan: if he'd been brought to this fishing village, could his crew have been saved too? He was still clueless

about who had double-crossed him, and if it turned out to be one of his own, they'd have to answer to him.

cards close to her chest, and

place gets stuffy.

the open where a

marital status, job,

a cargo ship that had

"I hail from Greenfield."

a stone's throw from here,"

it! Look at you, so dashing. My granddaughter, bless her, is

you're not

found himself barricaded by their enthusiasm, trapped in a

he

eager matchmakers deflated like balloons. "So young, and

dropped as a cough from

but Queena was the first to enter, carrying

at an unfamiliar ceiling, his body too battered to move. Footsteps approached, and

brew

"You're awake?"

helped him sit up.

complied, swallowing

long had it been since the earthquake? Was

the bowl, he asked, "Where

old home.

"Thank you. And Maja?"

"Maja? Who's that?"

"My fiancée."

mention of her, a stark contrast to the fierceness

she had turned away, and lan

His fiancée?

had someone he

the bowl tightened. Her mind raced through recipes of concoctions—was there

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