I tried to twist to meet Naia's gaze, but her grip was iron, and I was already dizzy from blood loss. When I heard my name in the distance, faint and muffled, I didn't dare open my mouth to respond.

Her voice was like steel when she spoke, her words calm and measured. "There are two ways this can end, Drew. One—you stay quiet so you don't share the same fate as your wife, or two—you try to stop me and watch your family die in front of you. You tried so hard to ensure that no one else suffered the same fate as Faye, yet you couldn't save the one who mattered most."

Deep down, I knew she was lying—but an almost indiscernible part of me whispered that she wasn't. I tried to grab the dagger at my waist, but she tightened her grip on my shoulder, and I could have sworn I felt the bones grinding against one another. When I attempted to break free, she struck me across the face with her free hand. My head snapped back a heartbeat before light exploded behind my eyes, and blood filled my mouth.

I heard Mom's voice in the distance, but—like before—I didn't dare call out. When I finally responded, weary defeat filled my voice. "Why are you doing this?"

I already knew the answer, but I desperately tried to keep her talking. Mom and Dad might have a chance to get away if she was here. Hurt flashed across her face a heartbeat before steely determination took its place. "Nerissa had her job at the Ocean Café, and Meribella had her sign language classes. They had reasons to get up in the morning—they had a purpose."

Stars flashed behind my eyes as I struggled to stay focused. When she suddenly let go, I crumpled, having no strength to stay upright. "Everywhere I go, mermaids and mermen still praise my sisters. Everyone has an anecdote of Nerissa doing this or Meribella doing that. Where did that leave me?

"I was forced to watch from the shadows for years as my sisters excelled. So, when Dathan came to me, saying he'd found a way to make Nerissa pay, I jumped at the chance. I told you, Drew, you have two choices: stay quiet and live, or try to save your family and watch as they die in front of you. What's it going to be?"

Spitting silt out of my mouth, I struggled to sit up, my body trembling with the effort. "Please, Naia. Don't kill them. I—I'm begging you." My voice broke on the last word.

My heart was beating so fast I couldn't catch my breath. I didn't look away as I heard Mom's voice, closer this time. "Drew!"

I groaned as my body gave out, and I collapsed into the silt. My face and collarbone ached simultaneously, and I couldn't find the breath to call out. I could hear Naia's words from moments before echoing in my head. You weren't fast enough to stop me from killing Ani, either.

I lay facedown on the ground, struggling to breathe through the pain radiating through my body. I tensed when I heard voices in the distance, getting closer with every moment that passed. "Drew! Drew, can you hear me?"

I didn't—couldn't—answer. A hollowness took root inside me when Naia had spoken, spreading until I felt nothing. Didn't want to feel anything. As hands gripped my arms and flipped me over, I didn't so much as wince. Eyes roved over my body, checking for visible signs of injury.

Aside from various bruises on my face, she wouldn't find any. The real damage was internal—a break running straight down the middle of my heart. I knew I should break the news to her; I just wasn't sure how. How did I tell her the mermaid she'd come to regard as a daughter was dead?

"She didn't hit anything vital. Thank the gods." The relief in Mom's voice was palpable, but so was the concern. Her face blurred above me, clearing a heartbeat later when I blinked.

I felt hands slide under my arms, lifting me to a sitting position. The movement left me sweating and dizzy, and I gripped Mom's hand as I swayed slightly. I blinked hard, forcing myself to focus. It was so hard to open my mouth, to remember how to speak.

"A-Ani." Her name was a broken rasp fueled by a hollowness I hadn't felt since Faye's death. The truth settled in then—a coldness taking root in the pit of my stomach. Ani is dead.

Mom hurriedly shook her head, face pale and eyes wide. "David is with her. Aside from a minor concussion and a broken wrist, she'll be back to normal in no time."

I swallowed before I opened my mouth, trying to find the strength to get the words out. "N-Naia... She said she'd killed—"

A barely audible voice cut off my words, sending tears to my eyes and stealing my breath. "D-Drew?"

It couldn't be. I found myself scrambling backward before I even registered the movement. When the mermaid appeared before me, silt-streaked, bloody, and weary, I couldn't stop myself from extending a hand in front of me. I blinked hard, but she didn't disappear.

Dad had slung her arm over his shoulder, which seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright. Pain and exhaustion clouded her gaze, but when she met my eyes, her own cleared momentarily. "Are you okay?" The words were out almost faster than I could form them, fueled by worry and desperation.

Dad led Ani toward me, her good hand outstretched as she reached for me. She'd tucked her left arm tight against her body, and if I looked hard, I could see her wrist bent at an unnatural angle. When her fingers brushed mine, I couldn't stop the sob that shuddered through me. She fell into my arms with a sob. The sudden movement jostled my shoulder, but I ignored the pain.

Pressing my face into her hair, I breathed her in, the scent I loved more than anything. Far too soon, we broke apart, and I squeezed her hand tightly. "We—we need to get—" Searing pain crashed into my body like a rogue wave on the surface, cutting off my words and eliciting a cry from my lips. I blinked hard again as my vision swam.

Mom spoke in a hurried rush, her words low and frantic. "There's a lot of blood, David. Both of them need to..." Her voice trailed off, her words becoming warped and muffled as I struggled to stay awake. I knew from experience that going to sleep with a concussion was harmful, but after everything I'd been through, my body was on the verge of shutting down.

I opened my eyes, realizing I had closed them only when I felt a cool hand on my cheek. "Stay with me, Drew. We're almost..." Dad's voice swam in my ears as he trailed off. I felt him tense a heartbeat before he spoke again, his voice low and menacing. "What are you doing here?"

I felt someone lower me onto a soft surface, my body sinking into plump pillows. I cracked open my eyes when I heard Dr. Murphy's low and worried voice. Her anxious face stared down at me, her eyes filled with fear and concern. "Don't worry, Drew. You're going to be okay."

I could tell by her voice that she was lying. I tried to open my mouth to ask about Ani, but I could barely blink, let alone move the rest of my body. Heaviness and pain tugged at me, urging me to close my eyes and embrace the darkness that awaited. I didn't want to—I needed to make sure Ani was okay—but I was so tired.

The next few hours passed in a blur of movement, voices, and pain. When I opened my eyes again, I saw a large bandage wrapped around my shoulder. Using my uninjured arm, I pushed myself up to a sitting position, biting back a cry as lightning bolts of pain sliced through my head. Closing my eyes again, I took several deep breaths.

A low, deep voice spoke nearby, its tone filled with relief. "Drew? Bella! I think he's waking up!"

Opening my eyes, I blinked several times as a blurry face materialized in front of me. Dad? I mouthed the word, every part of my body aching in pain with the movement. I lifted a shaking hand and pressed it to my temple, flashes of the past few hours flooding through my head.

Falling to the ground when someone jostled my shoulder, calling out for Mom, Dad, and Ani but getting no response, feeling a hand clamp down on my shoulder and hearing a familiar, menacing voice in my ear—it all came flooding back. As did the fear when I recalled the menace in Dad's voice when he'd spoken.

"'What are you doing here?'" Only one mermaid could provoke that much menace in Dad—the same mermaid capable enough of committing such a heinous act. The same mermaid who'd confessed her darkest, most intimate secrets as I floated helplessly before her.

"Naia." Her name was barely audible, yet it elicited a reaction from everyone in the room. Mom's face went ashen a heartbeat before Dad stiffened.

Mom opened her mouth to respond, but a frantic voice, faint yet growing louder with each breath, sounded from outside. "Bella! David! Is Drew okay?" The ragged breath that followed the words made me swallow hard.

Dad excused himself to answer the door while Mom swam to my side, gently taking my hand. I'd never heard Uncle Jay's voice sound so frantic. When the latter appeared in the doorway, followed immediately by Aunt Nerissa, I couldn't stop the shudder that rippled down my spine.

As I glimpsed the hollowness in her gaze, my heart sank. Uncle Jay wrapped an arm around his wife as they swam into the room. When Dad gently took her hand, Aunt Nerissa didn't flinch at the contact or react. She was in shock.

Even though neither sister had had contact with the other in quite some time, I knew the wounds from decades ago had never fully healed—for either mermaid. As I glimpsed her pale face and tear-stained cheeks, my heart clenched. Uncle Jay cleared his throat before speaking, his voice strained. "What did Naia say to you?"

None of them had been present during our heated confrontation, but I dreaded ripping that wound open again. I took a deep breath before I spoke, blowing it out slowly. "'You weren't fast enough to stop me from killing Irvetta. You weren't fast enough to stop me from killing Ani, either.'"

Everyone flinched at my words. "Naia had me by the shoulder, her nails digging into my flesh. 'There are two ways this can end, Drew. One—you stay quiet, so you don't share the same fate as your wife, or two—try to stop me and watch your family die in front of you.'"

I let out a tired breath, dragging a trembling hand down my face as I continued. "'You tried so hard to ensure that no one suffered the same fate as Faye, yet you couldn't save the one who mattered most.'" I dared a glance at Dad, biting back a shiver at the unchecked malice in his gaze.

I tried to block the images of our conversation from my mind as I forced myself to continue. "Deep down, I knew Naia was lying—but an almost discernable part whispered that she wasn't. I tried to grab the dagger at my waist, but she tightened her grip on my shoulder. I tried to break free, but she struck me across the face with her free hand.

"Desperate to keep her talking, I asked the one question to which I already knew the answer: why are you doing this? Hurt flashed across her face a heartbeat before steely determination took its place. 'Nerissa had her job at the Ocean Café, and Meribella had her sign language classes. They had a reason to get up in the morning—they had a purpose.'"

I swallowed hard as I locked eyes with Aunt Nerissa, forcing myself to hold her gaze. The arm Uncle Jay had wrapped around her shoulder was the only thing keeping her upright. She hadn't moved a muscle since they had swum inside, nor had she reacted to what I'd said. "'Everywhere I go, mermaids and mermen still praise my sisters. Everyone has an anecdote of Nerissa doing this or Meribella doing that.

"'Where did that leave me? For years, my sisters excelled, leaving me to watch from the shadows. So when Dathan came to me saying he'd found a way to make Nerissa pay, I jumped at the chance.'"

I exhaled as the last word left my mouth, scanning the latter's face, expecting any spark of a reaction—shock, anger, grief, sadness. Learning about the devastation wrought by a sister with whom she used to be close had to be overwhelming. But she didn't so much as meet my gaze. "I'm so sorry," I said hoarsely.

My eyelids fluttered as a wave of exhaustion crashed over me. I wanted to stay awake for Ani, but my body had other plans. Dad placed a hand on my arm, his face lined with worry. "Get some rest, Drew. Dr. Murphy promised to let us know when Ani woke up. Everything's going to be okay."

As I met his gaze, I saw that he'd tried to infuse as much optimism into his expression and words as possible, but he hadn't succeeded. I wasn't sure what scared me more: seeing Dad—the most optimistic merman I knew—become so bleak and lost or knowing I was the cause. How could we possibly move forward after such devastation?

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