He broke the surface fully shifted, at home in the water in a way Archie would never be. His torso rose above thewaterline, every line of him streamlined and lethal. He flicked his tail once and shot sideways with frightening speed, then stilled. He watched Archie with a cool, patient focus, as if this were a game he’d already won.
Archie’s childhood had been full of stories about people flocking to the cliffs to catch a glimpse of a Selkie—a blessing, a sign of luck, a promise of love for those seeking a spouse. Seeing one now, it was clear what the tales left out: the raw power in that tail, the ease with which he moved in the water, the cold calculation in those bright eyes. Any glamour they might have once had was gone. This wasn’t a legend. It was a predator from the Otherworld.
“You’re the one who made it personal,” The Selkie’s voice cracked. “You slaughtered us while we slept.”
“A Selkie had just killed my son,” Archie hissed, voice venomous and low. “What did you think would happen?”
“We take a few people into the sea because we need to survive.” The Selkie crossed his arms, lean muscles flexing as he shrugged, as if he were discussing the weather. “You should’ve been like everyone else on Latharna—going about your life oblivious to the world around you.”
“You came inland.” Archie pointed the knife at him, arm steady now. “You came for him.”
“He was easy picking.” The Selkie dipped his head for a moment, an odd parody of respect. “There were no fish and too many people on the coast to risk raiding a farm for chickens or catching a stray dog. We needed to eat. My father had no choice.”
“You don’t need to take people. You didn’t need to take him!” Archie yelled so loudly, a dog barked in the distance. Rage pulsed through him with such force, he feared it would tear him apart from the inside.
“The people of Latharna took from us for centuries.”The Selkie’s voice dropped to a low growl. “We’ve been hunted for pleasure, and for superstition. Skins stolen. Families broken. We’re no longer legendary—we’re dying.” His eyes darkened, the bright blue deepening to something almost black. “And now we’re taking what we’re owed.”
“You know, I won’t let that happen.”
“That night, I watched you kill my aunts, my uncles, and my cousins. You killed my father right in front of me.” The Selkie’s jaw clenched, voice flattening into something cold and hard. “My mother was destroyed. Our shoal will never recover from what you did. From what youchoseto do.”
“You…” Archie’s grip on the knife loosened. Memories flooded in—the reek of blood and salt, the weight of the axe as he wielded it in fury, the way each Selkie tried to defend themselves in vain. Heather’s voice in his head begging him to ignore all signs of the Otherworld. Rhys’ empty bed. Malachi’s hollow eyes.
He swallowed hard, throat burning. “You killed my son.”
“That was survival. And deep down you know that.” The Selkie’s mouth curled. “But now?” His whole body shifted, tail cutting the water with a single, deadly flick. “Now it’s personal.”
The hairs on Archie’s arms rose. The air changed, pressure tightening, the same feeling he’d had on the river just before everything went wrong. His gut lurched, as if someone had reached in and twisted.
Without another word, the Selkie turned and shot towards the base of the waterfall. When he reached the falling water, his upper body melted into it, the line between creature and current blurring. By the time Archie registered the movement on the rocks above, the tail wasgone, and long legs were hauling the Selkie up the wet stone with impossible ease. The force of the waterfall glanced off him as though it were nothing more than a heavy shower.
“I’m just a distraction.”
The words detonated in Archie’s head. His stomach dropped.
He spun and ran, shoes skidding on wet stone, then hammering the wooden bridge and the path beyond. All he could see was Riverside. Malachi. The river that ran behind their house…
He had to get home. Fast.
Chapter 15
Seven Years Ago
“Caspian,” a female voice rasped from the dark, “what were you thinking, going inland?” A trembling hand settled on his shoulder. “Don’t you realise what you’ve done?”
“We needed to eat, Thalassa.” The words pushed out of Caspian, worn thin from being rehearsed too many times in his head. “I brought food—food you fed to our children.”
Thalassa shuddered. Her slender fingers curled around a strand of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder. She always twisted it when she was nervous. “We don’t go inland,” her voice cracked. “You could’ve exposed us… and our babies.”
“The Islanders are weaklings.” Caspian uncurled the hair from between her fingers. “They wouldn’t know how to fight us even if they knew we existed. They’re blind to creatures of the Otherworld.”
“You’re sure we’re…” Her breath faltered; she swallowed hard. “Safe?”
“Yes.” Caspian ran his fingers down her back to soothe her, the same long, steady strokes he used when she birthedtheir young. “I had to feed them. The fish are gone, and there were too many people on the shore to take someone without being seen.”
He stroked the face of their newborn daughter, fast asleep against Thalassa’s chest. Her tiny features scrunched as she stirred. Pride surged through him, warm against the cool air of the night. He’d done what needed to be done. Providing for his family was his duty—at sea or on land.
“I had no choice. We need to be strong before we return to the sea.” He nodded towards their young sons, curled together on a nest of fishing nets, chests rising and falling in perfect tandem. “We leave at dawn. Just one more night, then home to the sea.”
