Bastian sprinted toward the two rangers stationed at the pier, anxiety etched into every muscle of his body. "Any sign of them yet?" His voice cut through the air, sharp with desperation.
One of the rangers shook his head. "No, sir. Nothing."
"Shit!" Bastian growled, his hands instinctively grabbing the back of his neck as he started pacing. His mind spun with options, none of them good. He couldn't risk flying—too many mortals around, too many eyes. If he did, he might expose himself. But damn it, what other choice did he have? Maybe, just maybe, Billy was still in range for telepathic contact. If not, Bastian would have to take the yacht back out and search for them himself. Time was slipping away, and so was his patience.
He was just about to try reaching Billy when he saw her—Anastasia—rushing toward him, her face pale and filled with dread.
"Warren! Any sign of them?" There was a slight waver in her voice, with panic barely hidden just below the surface. She was barely managing to keep herself from falling apart. Bastian observed the fear reflected in her eyes and sensed the tension emanating from her.
He shook his head, and that was enough to make her visibly flinch. It killed him to see her like this, but he couldn't lie. He couldn't give her false hope.
"Give me a second, Ana." He turned away from her, walking to the edge of the pier, his mind stretching out toward Billy's, searching desperately. 'Billy? Billy, can you hear me?' The quietness within his mind was nearly unbearable. He attempted once more, with increased urgency. 'Billy, come on. I need to know you're all safe. Can you hear me?'
Nothing. Damn it. Angels' ability to communicate telepathically was limited to a certain range and his hope started to fade as time went on. Bastian held onto his fists tightly, anticipating any signal, but even after a seemingly endless amount of time, there was no sign.
"Fuck it," he whispered quietly, turning quickly and running towards the yacht. He quickly informed the crew on board that they were heading back out. No time to waste, no room for doubt. They had to find them. While he waited for the crew to untie the lines and lift the anchor, he sensed someone behind him and of course, it was her.
"You can't come," he said letting out a sigh, already feeling the dread of the upcoming confrontation so he didn't even bother to turn around.
"Like hell I can't!" Anastasia snapped, her voice fierce, challenging. She stepped closer, standing right behind him now, daring him to deny her again.
Bastian clenched his jaw, spinning around to face her. "And what exactly are you going to do if they were attacked, huh? What if demons are waiting for us out there? What are you going to do? Throw a teacup at them?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, and yet, there was an underlying current of fear. He couldn't protect her and everyone else at the same time. And when it came to Anastasia… well, there wasn't even a question. Her safety came first, no matter what. Maybe if he was harsh enough, if he convinced her she'd be more of a hindrance than a help, she'd stay behind.
After seeing her determined gaze, Bastian realized he was screwed.
She smiled smugly, her mouth curling up defiantly. "I brought a bow and arrow," she said smugly. "And I'm a damn good shot."
Bastian scoffed. "A bow and arrow? Against demons? You really think you're fast enough to—" But then he caught himself. Her father had been teaching her since they were young, and she was experienced. She was born with talent, one of the most impressive he had ever witnessed. Bastian rubbed a hand over his face, defeated. "Fine. But if I say go below deck and hide, I'm not messing around. You do it. No questions."
"Fine, you jerk," she huffed, sulking as she plopped down into one of the bridge chairs.
Bastian couldn't resist letting out a humourless chuckle. "I'd rather be a jerk than see you getting hurt, Nas—" He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as he realized what he'd just said. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Why the hell did I say that? Please, God, tell me she didn't hear that… please…
With great reluctance, he slowly turned towards her, desperately wishing she hadn't noticed his mistake. However, upon seeing her face - with her big eyes and pale as a ghost, he realized he was in trouble.
"What... what were you about to call me?" she almost whispered with an unsteady voice.
Before he had a chance to reply, he felt a pull of a familiar presence at the corner of his mind that interrupted his thoughts.
'Bastian, I'm here. It's me, Billy. Can you hear me?'
"Oh, thank fuck!" Bastian said out loud, the relief washing over him like a wave.
Anastasia blinked, confused. "What—?"
Bastian held up a hand, signalling her to wait a moment. 'Dude, I've been stressing my ass off. I take it you're not too far away if I can hear you…'
'Yeah, we're coming around the island now. Can you see us?' Billy's voice echoed in his mind, and Bastian turned, rushing toward the front windows of the bridge. Anastasia was directly behind him, her breath stuck in her throat when they both caught sight of the yacht turning the corner.
"Is that them?" she asked, her voice shaking with a combination of relief and disbelief. However, a large grin appeared on her face as Bastian nodded, causing her entire body to relax with relief.
'I see you! I'll be here to meet you. Is everyone safe?' Bastian sent the thought to Billy, his anxiety still gnawing at him.
'You could say that,' Billy responded, his tone cryptic. 'I'll explain when we see you.'
Bastian didn't waste another second. He rushed from the bridge, barking orders to the crew to stand down and prepare to dock the incoming yacht. The rangers, Bastian, Anastasia, and Wyatt's crew all gathered at the pier, their eyes locked on the yacht as it finally pulled in.
One by one, the family members started stepping off the yacht, but as Bastian and Anastasia stood there, watching, they quickly realized that something was off. A strange uneasiness filled the atmosphere, an unspoken feeling of fear that loomed over the situation like an ominous shadow.
As everyone approached them from the yacht, Bastian felt his stomach drop. He held his breath when he made eye contact with Anastasia. Her eyes grew wider, her face turning paler as a cold sense of understanding washed over her.
Something had gone horribly wrong.