Freya's pov
The cool water lapped at our feet as we waded into the ocean. Logan wrapped an arm around my waist, his strong body pressed against mine.
"Freya," he murmured, his lips grazing my ear, "are you sure you're ready for this? We can always wait."
I shook my head, feeling bolder by the second. "No, Logan," I replied, a thrill running through me. "I want this."
He smiled, his gaze intense. "Then hold on tight, Piccola," he whispered, his voice low and commanding.
As we swam further into the ocean, I felt a surge of panic rise within me. Images of my stepmother's cruel face flashed in my mind, and I remembered the countless times she had used the water as her instrument of punishment.
My heart raced, and I clung tighter to Logan, my grip tightening on his arm. "Alp
