Chapter 15
Everything happens in a blur. Stan’s face contorts with rage, his finger tightening on the trigger. Wake moves like a force of nature, his powerful legs propelling him forward with astonishing speed. I dive to the side, hitting the deck hard as the gun goes off, the shot echoing like thunder.
Wake slams into Stan with the force of a freight train, knocking the gun from his hand. It skitters across the deck, coming to rest against a pile of debris. Stan struggles, swinging wildly at Wake, but he’s no match for the merman’s raw power.
“Wake!” I shout, scrambling to my feet.
The three of us converge, grappling for control of the gun. The ship pitches and rolls beneath our feet, making it nearly impossible to keep our balance. Rain howls through broken windows, and the lashing wind carries the scent of salt and blood. Stan’s face is contorted with rage and desperation, his grip on the
gun iron–tight.
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I lunge for it, fingers brushing the cold metal, but Stan backhands me viciously, sending me sprawling to the floor. Pain explodes across my face, my lip splitting open.
I taste blood and feel a wave of dizziness, the room spinning around me. Through the haze, I see Wake roar, a sound so angry it sends chills down my spine. He grabs Stan by the neck as if the other man weighs nothing, and lifts Stan into the air, leaving his feet kicking uselessly, his hands clawing at Wake’s arm, his face turning a mottled red.
“Wake, don’t kill him!” I shout, struggling to my feet, my vision swimming from the blow.
But Wake is lost in his fury, slamming Stan into the ground with bone–jarring force. The deck shudders under the impact, loose objects skittering across the floor, and Stan lets out a strangled gasp.
Wake lifts Stan again, preparing to slam him down once more. His eyes are glowing with an otherworldly intensity, and his muscles ripple with raw power. “Wake, stop!” I plead, rushing forward and grabbing his arm. “Please, don’t kill him. We need him alive.”
Wake hesitates, his grip on Stan’s throat loosening slightly. “Why?” His voice is guttural, barely human as he forces his limited English vocabulary around a mouthful of fangs.
“We need him to explain himself,” I say, my voice shaking. “I know you did what you felt you needed to with the crew, and probably felt threatened, but you can’t kill anyone else. We need answers. We need to understand what’s going on.”
Wake stills, his eyes flickering with confusion and anger. He looks down at Stan, who’s barely conscious, gasping for breath. Then he drops Stan, who
collapses in a heap on the deck, coughing and wheezing.
I take a deep breath, the adrenaline coursing through my veins making my hands feel numb. I wipe at the blood on my lip, wincing at the sting. Wake’s eyes narrow as he notices my injury, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Pho–ebe…hurt,” he says, reaching out to touch my face.
“I’m okay,” I assure him, placing my hand over his. “Just a little banged up.”
But as he moves to lick the wound, I see Stan out of the corner of my eye, sneaking towards the gun. Time seems to slow as I realize his intention. “Wake, look out!” I scream, pushing him aside just as Stan fires.
The shot rings out, and pain blossoms in my side, sharp and searing. I stagger, clutching my wound, and Wake catches me, his expression morphing from concern to fury. A low, guttural snarl rumbles from his chest as he turns to face Stan.
Enraged, Wake begins to transform. His skin grows more translucent in the daylight, his teeth elongating into fangs. Claws extend from his fingertips, and black and red scales erupt from the skin on his legs. Razor–sharp fins sprout from his forearms, giving him a terrifying, yet magnificent appearance.
He’s magnificent.
Just before I lose consciousness, I hear three more shots fired. I fall to the deck below and a heavy weight crashes on top of me, crushing the remaining air from my lungs. I force my eyes open just enough to see Stan stride over and roll Wake’s unconscious form off me with the toe of his boot. He studies Wake for a moment, scowling.
“Ugly fucker,” he mutters, then rears back and kicks Wake square in the ribs scream and rage, but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper.
once,
twice…three savage blows to the unconscious man’s body. I want to
Stan bends down, his face inches from mine, the barrel of his gun pressed to my shoulder. “Don’t worry, sugar, it’s just a tranquilizer. I’m not finished with either of you just yet.”
He fires, and white–hot pain rushes through me before everything goes dark.
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