Chapter 173 Seri

Chapter 173 Seri

Seri

The trip back to the research vessel felt infinitely longer than the frantic sprint away from the camp, perhaps because the adrenaline that had carried us through the rescue was finally beginning to fade, leaving exhaustion and pain in its wake.

The dinghy bounced over the dark swells, slamming hard enough against the water that every impact sent fresh aches through my body, and yet none of us complained. There was simply no energy left for it. We had spent the better part of a week searching, planning, infiltrating, fighting, and escaping, and now every person aboard looked as though they had been dragged through a storm.

Finn sat at the tiller, steering the small boat through the darkness with a stubborn determination that would have been admirable if it weren't so incredibly concerning. The gunshot wound in his leg was clearly bothering him far more than he wanted anyone to know.  At least it looked like a clean shot the whole way through his muscle.

His jaw remained clenched tight enough that I thought he might crack a tooth, and every time the dinghy struck a wave I could see him flinch despite his efforts to hide it.

Still, he never once loosened his grip on the controls.

Never once suggested that someone else take over.

Never once slowed down.

The research vessel gradually emerged from the darkness ahead of us, its familiar silhouette outlined against the silver water, and the sight brought a rush of relief so powerful that I nearly cried.

We had made it.

The prisoners were alive.

The camp was behind us.

We were free.

Almost.

The moment the dinghy bumped alongside the larger vessel, Iona climbed out first with the effortless grace. She immediately turned back toward Finn just as he attempted to stand.

The attempt lasted approximately two seconds.

His injured leg buckled beneath him.

Iona caught him before he could pitch face-first into the side of the boat.

"Easy," she said.

"I'm fine."

"You were shot. Let me help.”

Finn opened his mouth as though preparing an argument.

Then wisely thought better of it.

Together they made their way onto the research vessel while the rest of us focused on transferring the prisoners.

Ronan came first.

Even unconscious, the older selkie looked exhausted beyond words, his face pale beneath the bruises and injuries he'd suffered during captivity.

Nali followed.

The sight of her made my chest ache.

Whatever those men had done to her, whatever experiments they had performed, they had taken far too much.

But she was alive, and they hadn’t gotten her cloak.

That mattered.

Then came Caiden.

The moment Nymora pulled him onto the larger boat, I found myself staring despite every effort not to.

He looked terrible.

There was no softer way to put it.

His face was swollen and bruised.

His hair hung tangled and limp around his shoulders.

His body looked thinner than it should have.

And yet somehow, impossibly, he was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

The realization hurt almost as much as my arm.

Soon, I promised silently.

Soon you'll wake up.

Soon this will be over.

When Nymora finally turned toward me, offering a hand, I waved her off.

"I can climb."

One eyebrow lifted.

"You were shot."

"I've been shot before."

That earned a smile from both Nymora and Iona.

Still, I managed to haul myself aboard, though by the time my feet landed on the deck I was breathing hard enough to admit that perhaps accepting help would not have been the worst idea.

Every muscle in my body felt spent.

The wolf form had demanded more than I realized.

My thoughts felt slow.

Heavy.

Fog seemed to linger around the edges of my mind.

Even standing required effort.

And yet none of that mattered.

Because we had them.

We had Caiden.

We had Ronan.

We had Nali.

The mission had worked.

Then Nymora and Iona began hauling the dinghy aboard.

And everything changed.

The shift happened so quickly that at first I wasn't entirely sure why the atmosphere around me had altered.

Then I followed Nymora's gaze.

The horizon.

The silhouette grew clearer with every passing second.

The expensive vessel.

The poachers.

They had found us.

"Shit."

The word escaped before I could stop it.

Apparently everyone else had the same reaction because I heard similar curses from multiple directions.

Finn looked up from the helm.

His expression darkened.

Iona checked the remaining ammunition.

Not much.

A few rounds at most.

Nowhere near enough.

All they had were their swords.

The reality settled over the deck like a storm cloud.

Their vessel was larger.

Faster.

Built for open water.

If they wanted to chase us, they would catch us.

Nymora stared toward the approaching ship before turning back to us.

"We need a new plan."

Nobody argued.

Because she was right.

Running wasn't going to save us.

Not this time.

I stared at the distant vessel while my thoughts raced.

What could stop a ship?

Not a sword.

Not three exhausted fighters.

Not a handful of bullets.

A ship.

Something capable of damaging a ship.

Something powerful enough to level the playing field.

The answer arrived so suddenly from my old marine bio days that I nearly laughed.

Of course.

My mind jumped backward years, returning to old lectures, field reports, and historical accounts I'd read.

Stories from whaling days.

Accounts from sailors.

Descriptions of sperm whales attacking ships with enough force to shatter hulls.

Entire pods responding when one of their own was threatened.

Massive animals capable of changing the course of a battle against vessels far larger than anything approaching us now.

My heart began to race.

Not with fear.

With possibility.

I sat up straighter despite the pain immediately protesting.

"Nymora."

She looked over.

"I have an idea."

Every head turned toward me.

I stared out at the approaching vessel.

Then at the endless ocean surrounding us.

Then back toward them.

"What takes down a ship?"

Nobody answered immediately.

Which was fair.

It was a strange question.

But my excitement was already building.

The pieces were fitting together.

The possibilities unfolding.

Finally I smiled.

A slow smile that made Finn look nervous.

Which was probably justified.

"Sperm whales."

The silence that followed was immediate.

Then Finn blinked.

"What?"

"Sperm whales."

His confusion only deepened.

I could hardly blame him.

Meanwhile, the idea continued growing inside my head.

Becoming a gull had seemed impossible.

Then a rat.

Then a wolf.

Each transformation had pushed the boundaries of what I believed I could do.

So why stop now?

The poaching vessel continued cutting toward us across the water.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

I looked toward Nymora.

"Don't run."

"What?"

"Cut the engines."

They all stared at me.

Even Nymora.

Especially Nymora.

"What exactly are you planning?" she asked.

I turned my gaze toward the vast ocean stretching endlessly around us and thought of every whale I had ever studied, every migration map, every research paper, every hour spent watching them move through the sea.

Then I smiled.

"I think it's time I tried becoming something bigger."