The growl came again. Louder. Close enough that he felt it vibrate through the floor beneath its boots. Whatever had been lurking had stopped hiding.
Archie moved. He stepped forward deliberately, drawing the threat out whether it wanted to be seen or not. Sitting still was surrender. Waiting was how you died. If they were here, he would force them into the light—no matter how many of them there were.
“Archie, please!” Murdock lurched, trying to push himself upright. His good arm buckled under his weight. He cried out and collapsed back down, clutching his shoulder as fresh blood soaked through his fingers.
Archie ignored him. He jerked his chin at Malachi to follow. Ina nodded once and peeled off to the right without a word, her shape swallowed almost instantly by debris and rot.
They edged along the wall, boots careful on slick stone. Archie’s heart hammered so hard in his chest it felt loud enough to give them away. The light buzzed overhead, casting more shadow than clarity. Ina had vanished into the maze of shadows and rotten wood, and with her went the last illusion of control.
Metal clanged somewhere across the boathouse. The sound ripped straight up Archie’s spine, cold and sharp. His instincts screamed numbers—how many, where are they, moving or circling—and came back empty.
He pulled Malachi closer without thinking, and edged further into the building.
Malachi’s fingers brushed his elbow. Not pulling, just there. A quiet steadying touch to let Archie know he was okay.
“Ina?” Archie’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass.
“I’m over here,” Ina replied. “That wasn’t me.”
Archie’s stomach dropped. He turned towards Malachi, already pulling in a breath to tell him to run—to get out, not stop or look back.
But Malachi wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was locked onto something over Archie’s shoulder, eyes blown wide and bright with terror.
“Look out!”
The warning barely left Malachi’s mouth before something slammed into Archie from behind.
The world tipped sideways. He was driven into the concrete, pain detonating across his back and shoulders. Stone cracked against bone. His vision burst white.
Malachi went flying. The rotten hull of an old boat splintered as he crashed through it, wood snapping and collapsing around him.
“No—” Archie rasped, clawing for his knife.
A brutal kick sent it skidding out of reach.
The Selkie straddled him. Weight crashed down on him. Knees pinned his arms. Cold slick hands locked onto his chest, pressing him flat. The smell hit him—salt, blood, wet scales—and something else underneath it. Something that made his stomach twist.
Archie froze. Recognition flickered, hot and sickening, as his eyes found her face. Seven years had hardened it. But the eyes were unmistakable—that same vivid blue, burning now with feral hatred.
“You killed my husband!” The words were spat straight into his face, thick with grief and fury. Her voice crackedthen rose, tearing through the boathouse like a wound ripped open again. “You killed my family!”
She lifted the knife. Sapphire gems glinted along the hilt, dulled by years of salt and blood. Once beautiful. Once held in trembling hands.
“You destroyed everything I had.”
“Thalassa?” Archie's voice broke around her name.
It dragged him back seven years in an instant. Her trembling body, eyes wide with terror. Children clinging to her legs. The baby sleeping in her arms. That fear was long gone.
What stared down at him now was something else entirely—grief sharpened into rage; revenge honed to a killing edge. He recognised it instantly. It lived in him too, desperate to escape.
She raised the blade. Time slowed. Archie couldn’t move; he could barely breathe. The world narrowed to the arc of her arm, the dull gleam of steel, the certainty settling cold in his gut. This is it.
Malachi slammed into her from the side. The impact knocked Thalassa off Archie’s chest. The knife came down—not where it meant to, but close enough.
Pain exploded through Archie’s right thigh. He cried out as fire tore up his leg, white and blinding. His jaw locked tight enough to crack teeth as he fought the scream back.
Malachi hit the ground with her. For half a second, Archie dared to hope. Then she threw Malachi aside like he weighed nothing. She caught him by the throat and hauled him upright, fingers digging in, lifting him clean off the floor. The knife never left her other hand.
