CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

The entire pack froze when Joy Ateara burst into Emily and Sam's home, her face flushed and her chest heaving as though she'd run the entire way. The atmosphere, already tense from days of uncertainty, now brimmed with palpable dread. Every eye turned to her, and the unspoken question lingered heavily in the air: Was Zahra gone?

Quil, who had been seated near the window with his head in his hands, felt the blood drain from his face. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a brief, paralyzing moment, he feared the worst. His legs felt as though they'd give out beneath him.

Joy's words, when they finally came, struck like a lightning bolt through the suffocating silence.

"Zahra needs the ocean."

The declaration hung in the air, confusing yet undeniably urgent. Quil and Embry exchanged glances, their expressions mirroring each other's bewilderment and unease.

"But..." Embry began hesitantly, his voice trailing off.

He didn't need to finish his thought; everyone in the room knew what he was implying. The ocean—Zahra's one true sanctuary—was also the very thing that had once caused her unimaginable pain. The last time she'd come into contact with it, her screams had echoed through the night, searing themselves into Quil's memory.

The group shifted uncomfortably, their worry intensifying. The idea of returning Zahra to the water, the same element that had harmed her so deeply, seemed unthinkable.

Emily, however, was the first to break the silence, her calm and steady demeanour a sharp contrast to the chaos around her. She stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over the room as if to collect their scattered thoughts.

"We know what the water did to her before," Emily acknowledged, her voice measured and firm. "But this might be different. It might not just be what she wants—it might be what she needs."

"I can't do that," Quil cut in, his voice thick with emotion. He stood abruptly, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "I won't do that. I watched what the water did to her, Em. I heard her scream. It... it still haunts me."

His voice cracked on the last word, and his normally steady composure wavered. The room grew quiet, each person grappling with their own uncertainty and fear.

Emily placed a thoughtful hand under her chin, her brow furrowing. "What if it's temporary?" she suggested. "What if the water only hurts until she's fully submerged? Maybe... maybe the initial pain is just part of the process."

Paul raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as he processed her words. "You're saying it's like a reset? That it could heal her once she gets through the worst of it?"

Emily nodded slowly. "It's possible."

"But it's just a theory," Sam interjected, his voice low but heavy with the weight of responsibility. "We don't know for sure. And if we're wrong..."

Quil's jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. The room seemed to shrink around him as the enormity of the decision loomed. The thought of putting Zahra through that pain again was unbearable, but so was the idea of losing her entirely.

Joy stepped forward, placing a gentle but firm hand on her son's shoulder. Her voice was quiet, yet filled with conviction. "When she asked for it, Quil," she said, "it wasn't a whim. It wasn't a guess. She knew. She felt it. The ocean isn't just a desire for her—it's part of who she is."

Quil looked up at his mother, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. For a moment, he simply stared, wrestling with the inner turmoil threatening to consume him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll give Zahra what she wants," he said, the words heavy with both resolve and despair. "Even if it tears me apart, I won't be the wall standing between her and what she needs."

As the pack nodded in solidarity, the focus shifted to planning the journey to the ocean. But back at the Ateara residence, Zahra lay alone in her bed, her breaths shallow and her mind a whirlwind of fear and unease. She felt the faint prickle of dread on her skin, a sensation that grew stronger with each passing moment.

Her eyes darted around the dimly lit room, the shadows playing tricks on her. Then, she heard it—a voice, low and mocking, slithering into her ears like poison.

"Zahra..."

The tone was sardonic, dripping with malice, and it sent a chill down her spine. Her heart raced, her body burning with fear as the sound grew closer.

She wasn't alone.

Her throat tightened as she struggled to breathe, her body refusing to obey her desperate plea to move. Slowly, the shadows coalesced, forming into a figure she recognized all too well. Her visitor wasn't Quil or Joy. It wasn't anyone human.

It was a figure from her past—a cruel spectre that had haunted her since the night she had been cast away from her kind. Memories flooded back, sharp and unrelenting, of the night she learned the truth and her world shattered.

"Did you think you could escape your fate?" the voice sneered, its presence filling the room like a suffocating fog. "Did you think they could save you?"

Tears welled in Zahra's eyes, her body trembling as she clung to the fragile hope that Quil and Joy would return soon. But even as fear threatened to consume her, a spark of defiance flickered in her chest. She wasn't the same fragile girl who had been cast away. She had found love, family, and purpose.

And she would fight to hold on to it.