CHAPTER 137: [KILL HIM]

’Why do I keep suffocating?’

Eli’s chest burned.

How many times had his chest burned and seized like this? How many times had he felt the air ripped from his lungs, his body dragged to the brink of collapse?

The water pressed from every direction—heavy, cold, merciless. It wasn’t just filling the cavern, it was crushing it, swallowing every trace of light and sound.

The roar in his ears wasn’t noise anymore; it was pressure, a relentless weight grinding into his skull until every thought rattled like glass about to shatter.

His lungs convulsed, spasming violently, begging—screaming—for air.

He forced his eyes open.

The world was nothing but black and blue, warped and distorted. The faint scarlet shimmer of Kairo’s aura bled into the water like diluted ink, their only light in the abyss.

Debris churned past them—splinters of rock, shards of stone slicing through the current like knives, each one close enough to graze.

And then—movement.

Shadows.

Shapes flickering through the murk.

Phantoms.

The same distorted horrors that had crawled from the walls earlier. Their forms twisted and stretched as they slid past, flickering like broken film reels.

But they weren’t coming closer.

They were fleeing.

Eli’s pulse spiked so hard it hurt. His danger sense exploded.

Not in sharp arcs. Not in pulses. But like a detonation. A wildfire.

No direction. No pattern. No focus.

Just danger. Immediate. Unstoppable. Everywhere.

His body jolted in Kairo’s hold, muscles seizing with the force of it.

The hunter’s arms stayed locked around him—one anchoring Eli tight against his chest, the other cutting powerful strokes through the flood, dragging them upward, forward, anywhere not buried under the crushing tide.

But Eli could feel it.

Every nerve in his body screamed. His skull throbbed with white-hot agony, like something was trying to claw its way out from inside his brain.

’Where—where is it coming from?!’ His mind howled against the silence, throat convulsing as he fought not to breathe in water. ’I can’t—see it—I can’t—tell—’

Panic overtook the suffocation. His vision blurred, the edges burning black, stars exploding across his sight with every heartbeat.

His hands clawed weakly at Kairo’s soaked sleeve, nails dragging down the fabric. He wasn’t even aware he was clinging anymore—just desperate not to be ripped away, not to drown alone.

He knew it was the octopus. It had to be. But how? From where? His danger sense wasn’t mapping anymore—it was screaming.

Too loud.

It wasn’t warning him anymore, it was tearing him apart.

Kairo’s grip never loosened. Not once. Even through the chaos, through the torrent, through Eli’s flailing, the captain’s hold was steady, unyielding.

But that didn’t stop the danger.

It only grew louder. Stronger.

Until Eli swore his skull would split open under the sheer force of it.

’We’re going to die down here—’

And then—

A thought slashed through his panic, jagged and alien, like a knife dragged across his mind.

’And it’s all Kairo’s fault.’

His heart lurched. His pupils contracted violently.

What?

Did he really just think that?

’No—why would it be Kairo’s fault?’ His own voice echoed inside his head, weak and confused. ’That’s not... that’s not me—’

But the ache in his skull sharpened, pulsing like a second heartbeat.

And then the danger he was feeling wasn’t just pressure anymore. It was words.

Words.

They slid into his mind like whispers through cracked doors. Too quiet to block out. Too heavy to ignore.

’It’s Kairo’s fault.’

’If Kairo hadn’t brought me here.’

’All I wanted was to save my mom.’

The whispers layered over one another, growing louder with every heartbeat.

That’s right.

All he wanted was to save his mom.

If he had stayed behind. If he’d stayed at the hospital. If he had helped Lucas instead.

If Kairo hadn’t taken him—

His chest seized. The thought stabbed so deep it knocked the air from his lungs.

He couldn’t breathe anymore. His throat convulsed. His body trembled as bubbles erupted from between his lips, spiraling upward through the black water.

The world blurred around him. Cold pressing harder. Darkness thicker.

Kairo’s face broke through the haze for a moment—sharp black eyes flicking toward him as the hunter cut through the current with raw force.

His arms were still locked tight around Eli, pulling him forward like a living anchor against the current.

Eli blinked sluggishly. Through the dark, Kairo’s mouth was a grim line, his movements steady, relentless.

He wasn’t gasping. He wasn’t choking.

He was breathing easily.

’He... he seems to be breathing easily,’ Eli thought faintly, the words slurring in his own head. ’Unlike me...’

His chest screamed. His nails dug weakly into Kairo’s sleeve. The whispers pressed harder, like claws at the edges of his skull, louder than the roar of the water.

’Why is this happening? What’s wrong with me?’

Why were these thoughts surfacing?

This—this wasn’t him.

Was it?

No. No, it couldn’t be. He would never—how could he even think that—

Then air.

Kairo broke the water first, shredding the pressure around them, and they both clawed in for breath.

It hit like fire: lungs seizing, throat burning, and then relief as oxygen slammed into his chest. Kairo inhaled faster, steadier, and shouted into the ragged, echoing cavern.

"Mio! Zaira! Where are you?!" his voice ripped through the spray. "MIO, ZAIRA—!"

Eli flinched.

It was too loud.

Everything was too loud.

The world was a pinwheel of sound—water roaring, stone cracking, Kairo’s voice a jagged edge cutting straight through him.

And beneath that noise, a stupid, furious calculus started up in his head: he was here because of Kairo; he was bleeding because of Kairo; Mel had nearly killed Eli because of Kairo. The anger coiled hot and irrational.

A single, violent thought flashed—bright, shameful, immediate: maybe if Kairo weren’t here—

’Maybe if I kill Kairo.’

Then his pain could all be over.

Kairo stares at Eli for a long beat when there’s still no answer from Mio or Zaira. He tightens his grip on Eli’s arm.

"Eli, are you okay?"

The word slides into Eli before he knows he’s listening — a foreign rhythm under his skin, a drumbeat in a head already full of static.

KILL HIM.KILL HIM.KILL HIM.

The voice sounds like him and not him at once: less language than mandate, a single ugly command growing roots.

It repeats, a needle in the same groove, each echo clawing at his temples until thinking narrows to one thing.

Eli fights it down. He tells himself it’s not real.

But the chorus keeps rising, drowning everything.

KILL HIM.KILL HIM.KILL HIM.

Kairo’s voice cuts through the fog, precise and near.

"Eli—hey. Hey, look at me." The hand on his cheek is sudden, warm and callused, thumb pressing under his eye to lift his face. Kairo’s dark gaze doesn’t waver; it’s a blade of focus. "How are you? Can you hear me?"

Eli’s lips part. He wanted to tell Kairo what he’s currently hearing, but what came out was:

"I—I’m fine."