I was released from the hospital early the following day with strict orders from Dr. Murphy to rest for at least a week until I felt like I could use my arm without significant discomfort. I took her words to heart—I didn't get out of bed the next day. Or the next.

Alternating between tears and anger, I kept flashing back to a particular nightmare from years ago—something I hadn't thought of since I'd stopped singing. My hands trembled at my sides, my body crying out for rest as I swam. Every time I'd started to slow, a hand roughly shoved me forward.

When we'd finally stopped, I was tense, as if I'd been expecting someone to ambush us. My captor eventually turned around to face me, eyes glinting in and out of focus. "'Hello, Faye,'" Wyatt had said, a smug grin on his face. My heart had stopped dead in my chest as he'd smirked at me.

It was only then that I'd been able to get my bearings—we'd been in an abandoned house, and every room (or what I could see of them) was in ruins. "'W-What do you want with me?'" I'd asked, hating the way my voice had trembled.

"'I told you, Faye,'" he'd said, voice filled with malice. "'You didn't listen. Now your family is paying the price.'"

It had been years, but somehow, I still remembered each moment. I saw Mom covered in silt, her beautiful dress torn and spotted with blood. Dad floated beside her, covered in silt, his suit also torn.

Panic and fear slammed into me, so intense they stole the water from my lungs. The nightmare from the previous night and this one—they were mirror images of each other in one aspect: everyone I loved was dead, and I hadn't been able to save them.

I loosed a trembling breath, exhaling as tears streamed down my face. Silent sobs shuddered through my body, chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. After lying there for several minutes, it was clear I wouldn't be sleeping again soon. A glance out the nearest window revealed pitch-black water, the only light provided by the full moon above the surface.

Jonah never stirred as I quietly swam out of bed and into the bathing room, closing the door silently behind me. With a trembling hand, I splashed cold water onto my pale face. I looked up at my reflection—the dark circles emphasizing the exhaustion in my eyes, the unusual whiteness of my ordinarily pale skin, the dazed look in my eyes—and cringed.

Taking several slow, deep breaths, I looked down at the hand braced on the sink as I waited for my heartbeat to return to normal and my breathing to settle. When I looked back in the mirror—despite some deep, intrinsic part of me knowing that it was indeed a stress-induced hallucination—I screamed as Zander appeared behind my reflection, that knowing grin on his face. I whirled around, eyes frantically searching the empty bathing room. I was alone, yet I couldn't stop shaking.

Jonah was at my side in a heartbeat, eyes wide and frantically scanning my body. "Hey, it's not real. It's not real. You're safe. I'm right here. You're safe." Despite having been woken from a deep sleep by my scream, his eyes were clear and alert, any trace of tiredness gone from his expression. He braced his hands on my forearms, his grip gentle and reassuring.

Before the words even finished echoing, a knock sounded on the suite door, followed by a low, frantic voice. "Faye? What happened? Are you okay?" My mouth was open, yet no words came out.

Jonah glanced at me again—that calm, assessing gaze—then looked back towards the suite door. "Come on in, Drew," he called out, his voice steady. When the latter appeared in the doorway, face pale and eyes wide, I stared at nothing, held upright only by Jonah's gentle grip on my forearms.

Despite the late hour, my brother's gaze was alert and attentive. Several minutes passed, then I met Jonah's gaze and tried to speak. When I finally responded, my voice shook as much as my body. "I—I saw him i—in the m—mirror." I knew how foolish it sounded, but Jonah's eyes softened as they scanned my pale face, then met my haunted gaze again.

At my words, he let go and disappeared back into the bedroom. I swam backward until my back hit the counter, my hands clutching the smooth surface. A minute passed, then I heard the door to the sitting room open. Another minute, then he reappeared in the bathing room doorway, shaking his head. "There's no one here. It's just us." He swam to me and braced his hands on my arms again, kissing my forehead.

When Drew spoke, I sucked in a sharp breath. "Does this have anything to do with what you told us about yesterday?"

My voice was emotionless when I responded. "Zander's not going to stop until both Waverly and I die. He's already come after both of us once—with near-fatal results. Who's to say his next move won't be permanent?" A shiver raced down my spine as the words left my mouth.

I wiped tears off my pale cheeks, trying to calm my frantic breathing and racing heartbeat. Drew wordlessly swam to me and wrapped his arms around me. It wasn't until his arms came around me—warm and gentle, just as Jonah's had been—that I realized I'd started crying again.

My brother's voice was muffled by my hair when he spoke, his words barely audible. "Do you want me to get Mom and Dad?" The question wasn't demanding, merely curious. I knew that if I said no—despite his worry and concern—he'd respect my wishes, no questions asked. He pulled back to meet my gaze, his eyes full of worry.

I sniffled, then shook my head. "I don't want them to worry. They've got enough to deal with right now." My voice broke on the last word, the sound full of exhaustion. All I wanted was to sleep, yet I was terrified of what awaited me in unconsciousness.

Drew nodded as he brushed a sweaty strand of hair off my forehead, assessing the dazed look in my eyes. "When was the last time you ate something?" He glanced at Jonah, but I didn't see his response. It was only when the words left his mouth that I realized I couldn't recall the last time I had eaten.

As I shrugged, he exchanged another glance with Jonah, a wordless conversation passing between them before slipping out of the suite. Jonah took my hands, his eyes sweeping from my head to my tail. He inclined his head to the sitting room, and I nodded.

The silence was thick in the water between us, and I swallowed hard, breathing deeply. When Jonah spoke, I released a shuddering breath. "What's bothering you? Is it Zander himself or the fact that he's biding his time and waiting to attack again?"

Like Drew, his tone wasn't accusatory—it was merely curious. My voice was barely a whisper when I responded. "He killed all of you. He could have killed me and Waverly. For all I know, he's plotting our deaths as we speak. It's not about eventually seeing him face-to-face for the first time since... it happened. It's the fact that he could decide to kill me the second he lays eyes on me, and we'd be powerless to stop him. 

"That's what jerked me from sleep in a cold sweat earlier. It was a repeat of a nightmare from years ago, nearly identical to the previous night in one aspect: everyone I loved was dead, and I hadn't been able to save them. That fear is so deeply ingrained inside me that I can't shake it. He got inside my head," I whispered, voice breaking as tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.

Jonah pulled me into his arms, holding me as I cried. "I can't lose anyone else," I wept, my voice muffled by tears. "I can't go through that again."

I bit my tongue hard enough to draw blood as a memory from years ago surfaced in my mind—one I hadn't thought about in a very long time. Both Carla and Ella had been there, and I'd told them that we had the Lost Soul Pendant and that we could bring them both back—that all of us could be a family again. But Carla had said no, that she and Ella were happy being together and where she could watch over Drew and me.

I loved Mom and Dad and wouldn't trade them for anything. But sometimes, I missed Carla and Ella so badly it hurt. Of course, that nagging question would surface occasionally: how can you miss someone you never really knew? Because they'd both died when I was barely a year old, I didn't really know them. Yet, when I'd seen them in that dream or hallucination or whatever it had been, it felt like they'd been there with me.

I'd never told Jonah about what happened to Carla and Ella, but I realized now that I should have. I took a deep breath, fighting against the memories that surged through me. Drew had told me the stories of their deaths countless times, yet it never got any easier to stomach. He'd never explicitly said it, but I was almost positive that Carla's murder was due to her Siren lineage. It stood to reason that Ella's death would have been under similar or identical circumstances.

I blinked several times, swallowing hard as a lump appeared in my throat. "Our biological mother's murder occurred when I was a year old, while Drew was a few years older. Our uncle's brother was a very lonely and jealous merman. For reasons I still don't understand, he snapped one day.

"He killed Ella right in front of Drew and then Carla soon after that. Drew told me he didn't witness Carla's death, but he knew she was gone minutes after Ella died. He's had many years to process and heal from the trauma, but I know he still has invisible scars and wounds from that day."

I released a shuddering breath, surprised to find tears leaking down my cheeks. When the knock came, neither of us flinched. Mom's voice, muffled and concerned, came from outside the suite. "Faye? Honey, can we come in?"

The moment I heard the concern—not worry—in her voice, I understood that Drew hadn't gone against my wishes; I knew that he'd simply bumped into Mom and Dad while returning to the suite. I took another deep breath, then exhaled slowly before responding. "Yeah, Mom. Come on in."

When the former stuck his head in, I could see the unspoken words in his eyes. I nodded, silently accepting his apology. Mom and Dad swam in first, worry and concern in their eyes. Dad opened his mouth as he glimpsed the tears in my eyes and on my cheeks. "What happened, honey?"

I opened my mouth but froze as Drew set the tray of bubble tea and shrimp on our bedside table, carefully handing me the mug of tea. I accepted it gratefully, taking a long sip. "I couldn't sleep last night, so after tossing and turning for several hours, I swam into the bathing room to splash water on my face. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and cringed. Taking several slow, deep breaths, I looked down at the hand braced on the sink as I waited for my heartbeat to return to normal and my breathing to settle.

"When I looked back in the mirror—despite some deep, intrinsic part of me knowing that it was indeed a stress-induced hallucination—I screamed as Zander appeared behind my reflection, a knowing grin on his face. As I whirled around—eyes frantically searching the empty bathing room—I knew I was alone, yet I couldn't stop shaking. Jonah appeared at my side, eyes wide and frantically scanning my body. Drew knocked on the door seconds later."

I rubbed my face with trembling hands, blowing out a breath. When I looked at Mom and Dad, fresh tears spilled down my cheeks, my voice breaking as I spoke. "Zander's not going to stop until both Waverly and I die. He's already come after both of us once—who's to say his next move won't be permanent?" My words were identical to what I'd said to Drew two days ago.

Mom and Dad exchanged glances, then the latter spoke, his voice gentle as he swam up to me. "He hasn't been seen in months. There's no reason to assume he'll turn up out of nowhere. If he appears again, we'll know." His voice hardened as malice filled his eyes. "If he decides to come after you again, I promise he won't come out of it alive."

The untapped rage and determination in Dad's words—coupled with the lingering fear from moments ago—stole the water from my lungs, leaving me gasping. As much as I wanted to believe his words, a voice in my head warned me that, despite the force that would go up against Zander, both sides would suffer devastating losses. If we'd be able to survive those losses remained to be seen. I knew one thing with heartbreaking clarity: the mermaid I was now would not be the same mermaid that emerged from the impending confrontation.

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