Archie’s chest cracked open as the truth slid into place, cold and merciless. They’d both been afraid of the same thing. Only now, standing here with weapons raised, Archie understood what the child was seeing when she looked at him. The monster.
Seven years ago, he’d stormed into this boathouse convinced he was saving lives. He’d never stopped to think about the eyes watching him from the dark. Never wondered whose fear filled the space after he left.
He couldn’t breathe past the thought that, in her story, he was the thing she would remember for the rest of her life. The monster her nightmares would shape themselves around.
“Please,” the male Selkie’s voice cracked. He stepped forward, placing himself between Archie and his family. “You can kill me. But let my mate and our grandchild go.”
“Archie?” Ina held the crossbow steady in her hands. Her finger hovered over the trigger. “We need to end this. Now.”
She’d already made her peace with what came next, and that frightened Archie more than the weapon ever could.
Malachi’s hand closed around Archie’s arm, tight enough to hurt. “Dad—” his breath caught. His face had gone pale, eyes bright and panicked as they flicked between Ina and the Selkie child. “You can’t. She's just a baby.”
Archie closed his eyes and willed himself to be anywhere else when they opened—away from the boathouse, from Latharna and every road that led to this moment. When he opened them again, nothing had changed. The young Selkie still shook, clinging to the older female—her grandmother.
His knees gave. He caught himself on Malachi’s shoulder, grip tightening as the ground tiled beneath him. Grief hit him in a slow crushing wave. Rhys, the promises he’d broken, and choices he’d made that had been too late to matter. He held on tighter to Malachi’s shoulder to stay upright.
Ina was right. It had to end. But not with bloodshed. Not with another child carrying the weight of their terror. Not with blood spilled simply because it was easier than stopping.
“It’s over.” Archie swallowed hard. His throat burned as he took the knife from Malachi and held it out, arm steady by force alone. Malachi’s shoulders loosened, a breath slipping free of him like he’d been holding it for hours.
Ina’s stare cut into Archie’s back but he didn’t look at her.
“For the little one.” He nodded to the child and offered her a small smile. The child shrank into her grandmother’s side, but the shaking eased just a fraction.
The elder Selkie hesitated, then took the knife. He turned it in his hands, thumb brushing the worn grip as if committing its weight to memory, before passing it to his mate.
She recoiled instinctively, one arm curving around the child’s shoulders, blade held awkwardly between them.
Archie recognised the posture—the way her body angled, how every instinct was bent towards shielding what mattered. He’d stood like that himself, more than once. Only this time, he wasn’t alone.
If she so much as shifted her footing wrong, if the blade twitched, Ina would have her on the ground before the knife cleared her palm. Archie didn’t need to look at Ina toknow it. He felt her readiness like pressure in the air—coiled and terrifyingly calm.
“Archie?” Ina’s eyes were wide now. Not anger or fear. Disbelief. As if this ending had never existed in her version of events.
“Lower your weapon.”
She didn’t move. “Are you sure?” Ina’s gaze flicked between Archie and the Selkie, sharp and calculating, already figuring out how fast she could end this her way if she had to.
“Lower it.” Malachi’s voice cut in, steady and unshaken.
Archie turned, completely caught off guard. Pride hit him, low and sudden, as he took in the set of Malachi’s jaw, the certainty in his eyes. Not borrowed courage, but his own.
Ina flinched. The crossbow dipped. She didn’t switch the safety on, but the tension shifted. One wrong move and she’d fire anyway, whether Archie gave the order or not.
The elder Selkie inclined his head. “We’re old. We won’t make it back to Latharna for the next cycle.” He drew the child closer; her fingers tangled around his. “But we’ll try to find a new shoal for her before our time is done.”
Archie nodded. His leg throbbed, heat pulsing with every heartbeat, and more of his weight leaned onto Malachi than he liked. If this was a lie, if this was all a trick, he wouldn’t be fast enough to stop it.
“You’ve given our future a chance.” The elder ruffled the child’s matted hair.
“If you do decide to come back to Latharna.” Malachi stepped forward before Archie could stop him. “I’ll help you.” Malachi sounded older than an eighteen year old who had nearly died twice in as many days.
Watching him, Archie felt something settle—a quiet,aching pride threaded through with grief for the boy Malachi had been and for the one he’d already lost.
The female Selkie’s mouth twisted. Her grip stayed tight on the knife until her mate’s hand rested on her shoulder. At once, her fingers loosened. She stepped back. Then another step, the little Selkie followed her, tight by her side. The three Selkie retreated towards the broken wall together, never turning their backs.
“It’s over,” Archie said again, more to himself than anyone else.
