Ch. 36
“Another siren’s been found?” I ask, my voice barely steady as I try to process what that means.
Dr. St. Cloud nods, her expression as unreadable as ever. “A few nautical miles off the Mediterranean coast in the Adriatic Sea.”
Stan, sitting across from her, slams his hand on the desk. “Why wasn’t I told about another mer?” His tone is sharp, accusatory.
Dr. St. Cloud blinks slowly at him, completely unfazed by his outburst. “You have been told. This was me telling you.”
Stan's face flushes with anger, his lips pulling back into a sneer. “And I’m supposed to accept this is the first you’ve heard of a third siren fucking around in the wild?”
“I don’t care what you do or don’t accept, Stan,” she replies, her voice cool as ice. “You’re being pulled in now, or would you rather I send someone else?”
He chews the inside of his cheek, visibly searching for another reason to argue. Then his gaze flicks to me, and his eyes narrow. “What about her?” he asks, nodding in my direction.
I stiffen, bracing myself. “What about me?”
Stan’s sneer deepens. “You can’t be trusted alone with that thing in the Marble. You’ve already let it—”
Dr. St. Cloud clears her throat pointedly, cutting him off before he can finish that sentence. The warning in her eyes is unmistakable, and Stan, for all his bravado, has the sense not to push her any further.
“She doesn’t think straight around that thing,” he mutters instead, his voice laced with bitterness.
“Let that be my concern,” Dr. St. Cloud replies, her tone leaving no room for debate.
Stan looks like he’s just swallowed a jar of nails, his expression an odd mix of triumph and defeat. He knows he’s been benched, no matter how high-profile this mission is.
He sits there for a moment, staring at the desk in front of him, likely trying to piece together his pride after it’s been unceremoniously stripped from him.
Eventually, he stands, his movements jerky and robotic, muttering something under his breath as he stumbles out of the office. The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone with Dr. St. Cloud.
I stand there, still reeling from everything that’s just happened. The idea of a third siren appearing so soon after we captured Wake—it’s almost too much to process. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?
“Dr. St. Cloud,” I begin, but she interrupts me.
“Lily,” she corrects, her voice softening just a touch. “It seems a bit silly to stand on formality at this point.”
“Lily,” I say, trying the name out, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” she replies sharply, her eyes narrowing. “It was always my intention to assign Dr. Wilcox to this investigation.”
I let out a stunned laugh, the tension in my chest loosening just a fraction. “I still can’t believe it’s real!”
“Oh, it’s real, alright,” Lily says, but there’s no trace of my enthusiasm in her voice. “It’s real, and its existence is a problem.”
“Why?” I ask, frowning. “This is fantastic news!”
Lily whirls on me, her expression suddenly fierce. “Why don’t you put your starry-eyed daydreams aside for a moment and try thinking critically. Right now, we have the only two sirens known to man, and that makes Enigma Labs a commodity.”
“More sirens means more potential for competition,” I surmise, feeling a pit open up in my stomach as the implications start to sink in. “I’m not an idiot. I get it. I just don’t see why that’s a problem.”
Lily scoffs, the sound harsh and derisive. “So bright, but still so naïve.”
My temper flares, and I glare at her. “Don’t patronize me, not when I’ve only got your promises to go by. You said you weren’t going to exploit the sirens.”
Lily levels me with a grim stare, her eyes cold and calculating. “And if I’m not the one in control, what then? Phoebe, if anyone other than Enigma gets their hands on Wake’s people, my promises won’t matter.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, the weight of them pressing down on my chest. “Then what are we supposed to do?”
“We get ahead of the narrative,” she says, her voice firm with resolve. “And right now, that means figuring out how the sirens are made and how to make more.”
“I don’t know if I can do that in the timeframe you want,” I confess, the uncertainty gnawing at me. “Wake doesn’t like or trust anyone here. I’m starting to think I’m no exception.”
A muscle in Lily’s jaw ticks, but she doesn’t argue. “Well, fortunately, you won’t be alone in this.”
I give her a questioning look, and before I can ask what she means, the office door opens, and someone steps inside.
My breath catches in my throat, my heart skipping a beat as I recognize the figure standing in the doorway. “Peter!” I gasp in delight, unable to hide the rush of emotions that flood through me.
Peter steps forward, his familiar smile warming the cold, prim room. “Hey, Phoebe. Long time, no see.”
I jump up and wrap my arms around Peter, holding him tight. It’s been too long since I’ve seen a friendly face—too long since I’ve felt like I’m not alone on this damn island. “I was worried to death about you,” I murmur, pulling back just enough to look at him.
Peter chuckles, though it’s a bit forced, and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, getting your brain fried by a merman is no joke.”
I notice the shadows in his eyes, and my worry deepens. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, searching his face for any signs that he’s just putting on a brave front.
His gaze softens, and I see those shadows start to recede a little. “I am. Promise. Honestly, it was more like a hard reboot than anything else,” he says, though he frowns as if remembering something unpleasant. “I had some really funky dreams, though.”
That piques my interest, considering my own experience with siren songs and the strange dreams that followed. “What about?”
Before Peter can respond, Lily clears her throat behind us, snapping both of us back to the reality of the situation. “Sorry to interrupt your touching reunion, but we have work to do.”
Peter straightens up immediately, his demeanor shifting to something more professional. “Of course, Director.”
“Good,” Lily says, her tone crisp. She turns to me, eyes sharp. “Phoebe, you’re heading this initiative, and you have the strongest relationship with Wake. Have you given any thought to how best to approach studying Wake’s behavioral patterns?”
The question hangs in the air, and I feel a pang of guilt. I have been thinking about it, and I feel horrible.
Wake has made it clear, painfully clear, that he doesn’t appreciate being treated like a lab rat. And yet, here I am, just as guilty as everyone else, no matter my intentions. He’s only playing along to appease me, and I'm only sticking around to…
Why am I staying here? Why am I helping these people? At first, it had been all about learning more about Wake, about exploring the strange connection between us. But now that we can communicate, why am I so terrified to leave?
The many things Wake still won’t tell me. The threat of Enigma Labs chasing us to the ends of the earth if we run.
The memory of that behemoth at the bottom of the sea, the whisper of fear I’d felt echoing through the ocean, through Wake.
There are too many questions that still need answers, too much left unresolved. And I know, deep down, that some of those answers are still buried on this island. Wake might not believe me, but I know it in the same way he insists I’m his mate. We’re not finished here, not yet. And that means playing the game a little longer.
“Actually, yes, I have,” I finally answer, trying to push the guilt aside. “I need to study Wake in his natural habitat. I’m going diving today.”
“Where?” Lily and Peter both ask at the same time, their eyes narrowing in unison.
My reply is simple, “Into the Marble.”
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