"And you're the only one who can defend it properly." The words cost me pride, but they're true. "Which means Carrick will be back. And next time he won't be coming for the ancient magic."
She's quiet for a moment, processing. Then her hand finds mine under the water, cold fingers squeezing tight. "Then we defend it together. You hold the surface, I hold the depths. That's what being guardian means, right? Protecting these waters no matter the cost."
My father's words echo in my mind. What every Hale guardian has believed since the first seal was created. But hearing it from Isla, understanding that she's already bound to these waters, that she's accepted the duty as fully as I have?—
The claiming ritual feels inevitable now. Not just because my bear recognizes her as mate, but because she's already committed to the guardianship that defines my existence. Partners in this duty before anything else.
"Together," I agree. "Right now though, you're freezing and we're too exposed out here. Shore first, then we figure out what that bastard left behind."
"He'll be back." Her voice carries certainty despite the exhaustion. "And next time he won't be trying to wake the old evil."
"No." I pull her closer as we swim, feeling how cold she's gotten. "Next time he'll be coming for you."
The shore draws nearer with each stroke. Dawn paints the cliffs gold and rose, beautiful and indifferent to the blood spilled on its rocks tonight. Smoke still rises from the northern caves.Bodies float in the surf, both human and enhanced. The battle left its mark on these waters.
Isla's weight grows heavier against my side. Her breathing has gone shallow, movements sluggish. Hypothermia setting in despite the pendant's protection. I swim harder, ignoring the burn in my own muscles.
Almost there. Almost safe.
Then I feel it. A vibration in the water that doesn't match the natural rhythm of waves. Too regular. Too mechanical.
I scan the horizon and my blood runs cold.
A boat. Large, sleek, cutting through the dawn light from the direction of the mainland. Not fishing vessel or coast guard. Something else entirely. And it's heading straight for us.
Carrick didn't leave. He just regrouped.
And now we're exposed in open water, with Isla barely conscious and me exhausted from battle and the dive. No backup. No cover. Just two targets floating helpless while an enemy vessel closes in.
I hold Isla tighter, measuring distances with a guardian's eye. The shore is still too far. The boat will reach us first.
My bear stirs beneath my skin, ready to shift and fight. But even a bear can't take on a boat full of enhanced soldiers in open water. Not while protecting an unconscious mate.
The vessel's engine grows louder. Closer.
And I realize with sickening certainty that Carrick planned this all along. The attacks on shore weren't just about reaching the ward. They were about driving Isla into the depths, exhausting her, forcing her to surface far from safety.
He's been hunting her this whole time.
And now he's got us exactly where he wants us.
CHAPTER 18
GRAYSON
The boat cuts across our path close enough to see individual figures on deck. Large enough to hold a crew, sleek enough to move fast. Purpose-built. The engine throttles down as it positions itself between us and safety.
I adjust my grip on Isla, supporting more of her weight as her movements become sluggish. Hypothermia is taking hold despite the pendant's protection. She's shivering violently now, teeth chattering so hard I hear them click together.
Men appear at the railing. Automatic weapons swing toward us, red laser sights cutting through the dawn mist. Enhanced soldiers like the ones who attacked the sacred sites, but these move with deadly precision—barrels tracking our movement in the water.
"Grayson Hale." The voice carries across the water, amplified by magic. Carrick stands at the bow, looking fresh and composed despite his forces' defeat in the depths. "I was hoping you'd make this easy. Surrender the selkie, and you can swim away. Live to guard another day."
I tread water, keeping Isla's head above the surface. "You lost, Carrick. Your equipment is destroyed. Your ritual failed. Take whatever boats you have left and get out of my waters."
"Lost?" He laughs, and the sound carries genuine amusement. "I found exactly what I was looking for. A living selkie with blood magic in her veins. Worth infinitely more than anything sleeping in those trenches."
Movement in my peripheral vision. Splashes as men enter the water from both sides of the vessel. They're surrounding us, cutting off any escape route. Too many in the water, with more waiting on the boat.
