Chapter 25 #2
The Selkie he spared back then died anyway. The future, now lost to her. Heather would’ve done the same. She’d have burned the world down to protect her own if she had to. The thought cut deeper than the wound in his leg.
Malachi scrambled to his feet and rushed to him. “Dad, are you okay?” He hooked an arm around Archie’s shoulders and hauled him upright. The bruised imprint of Thalassa’s fingers was already fading on his neck.
Archie groaned and leaned into him, relief making him weak. He clutched his bleeding thigh, the pain pulsing hot and insistent now that the adrenaline was draining away.
“I’ve got you.” Malachi held him steady.
“Are you both okay?” Ina splashed through a puddle of seawater and crouched beside them. Her gaze flicked once to Thalassa—assessing, already knowing the outcome—then dropped to Archie’s leg.
“Superficial.” She said briskly. “I’ll put a couple of paper-stiches on it when we get back to Riverside.”
Archie tested his weight and hissed as fire lanced up his thigh. It didn’t feel superficial.
They moved back towards Thalassa together. She was still breathing. Barely.
Each rasp sounded like it might be her last, blood slipping from the corners of her mouth and darkening the stone beneath her head. Her eyes tracked Archie as he approached.
Ina reached for a bolt on Archie’s belt.
“Wait.” Archie’s voice was rough but steady. Seven years ago, he’d chosen mercy. Tonight, he wasn’t sure what it even looked like anymore.
“Save your bolt.” Thalassa’s words fell out of her in broken pieces. Each breath rattled. Blood bubbled on her lips, spilling down her chin. “There’s n—no need. I—I’m done.”
Ina ignored her. She slid another bolt into the crossbow with a sharp, practiced click—but didn’t raise it.
Thalassa coughed hard. Her body jolted as a thick pool of dark red blood spilled from her mouth and soaked into the stone beneath her cheek. She lay still for a moment, chest shuddering, as though gathering what little strength she had left.
“It’s over.” Her eyes found Archie again. “Things should’ve been so d—different.”
Archie nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak.
She wasn’t wrong. If the Wolfendens hadn’t stood back for so long, if they’d stepped in to help when the Selkie were desperate and starving, everything might have turned out differently.
Rhys would still be alive. Caspian, too.
And Thalassa wouldn’t be bleeding out on the floor at his feet.
“My knife?” Thalassa whispered.
Ina didn’t move. Malachi knelt. He picked up the blade carefully, wiping blood and grime from the handle with the hem of his hoodie.
Archie watched him—his son, who had watched his brother dragged into the river, who had nearly died himself—showing more forgiveness and humanity than Archie ever could.
Malachi leaned forward to pass it to her, as Ina’s hand closed gently around his arm.
“For my daughter.” Thalassa’s gaze drifted towards the broken opening in the back wall. “For… my daughter.”
Her breathing sped up, shallow and uneven. Panic flickered across her face, then vanished. Her chest rose once. She exhaled. And didn’t draw another breath.
The Wolfendens stood in silence.
Blood spread slowly from beneath Thalassa’s body, darkening the shallow puddles around her. Malachi knelt again and closed her eyes, his touch careful.
Archie couldn’t move. The relief he’d imagined for seven years never came. Just bone-deep exhaustion and a regret that settled heavy in his chest.
“Now what?” Malachi whispered as he stood, as though anything louder might disturb the dead Selkie at their feet.
Ina raised her crossbow and headed towards the back of the boathouse without answering.
“We finish this for good.” Archie’s voice was steady, even as he limped after her, blood seeping through his jeans. He motioned for Malachi to follow. “Stay close.”
Ina reached the opening in the wall just as the lights overhead flickered.
Archie’s gut tightened.
Darkness here wouldn’t just be inconvenient. It would tip the balance out of their favour should any more Selkie attack.
He grumbled as he tried to keep pace. Sweat slicked his spine, his shirt clinging to him as his injured leg threatened to buckle with every step—even with Malachi braced tight at his side. Each movement sent fire flaring up his thigh. He ground his teeth and kept going. Stopping wasn’t an option.
“Archie!” Murdock’s voice rang out from behind them, echoing sharp and frantic off the stone walls. “Don’t you hurt that child! Remember, children are innocent.” There was a dull grunt, like he was trying and failing to stand.
Malachi faltered, half-turning back. Archie tightened his grip and hauled him forward. He couldn’t afford to look back.
“Now?” Ina aimed the crossbow at the water. “Archie?”
He heard it in her voice—not a flicker of doubt, only readiness. Waiting for the word.
“Wait.” Archie reached out and placed his hand on the crossbow, forcing it down.
Ina’s jaw clenched. Her nostrils flared, breath sharp and controlled, but she didn’t resist.
Faint footsteps caught Archie’s attention. Two Selkie emerged from the shadows. They were old. Their hair thinned to wisps of silvery grey, skin weathered and pale. Their movements were slow and deliberate.
The larger male stepped forward first. He was still tall, broad across the shoulders, but the bulk had wasted away. Muscles stretched tight over bone. The strength left in him wasn’t for fighting anymore. It was for endurance.
He raised his hands, palms open and empty. Behind him stood a smaller Selkie, her fingers knotted tight with those of a child.
Ina’s crossbow snapped back up.
“Wait.” Archie repeated, sharper this time.
Ina didn’t lower it.
Archie stared at the young Selkie. She stared back at him with wide, unblinking eyes, as blue and sharp as her mothers. Her body was rigid, fingers digging hard into the elder’s hand. She didn’t cry or move.
And in that stillness it hit him. This was Rhys.
Not the boy he’d raised, but the boy he’d lost. The boy who looked up at something too big and powerful to fight or flee.
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 to know 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.
The male turned back and held his gaze. “We won’t return to Latharna.
My granddaughter will grow old with another shoal.
” He paused, watching as his family slipped into the water.
“I can’t imagine you’ll ever find that kind of freedom here.
Or live long enough to grow old.” Then he slipped into the water, barely disturbing the surface.
The words cut deeper than Archie expected. The quiet truth of the Wolfendens, written in early graves and unfinished lives—his wife, his parents and the rest of his family. Latharna didn’t let its protectors rest gently.
“You let them go?” Ina demanded. “After all this time, you just let them go?”
“After all this time.” Archie echoed, tiredness crept deep into his bones.
The lights flickered overhead.
Archie swayed, dizziness rolled through him as blood soaked heavier into his jeans. He eased his grip from Malachi’s shoulder and limped towards the door before darkness swallowed them whole. It was time to go home.
As they moved through the boathouse, Ina clicked on the safety of the crossbow. Only then did Archie breathe.