9. Sasha

Chapter 9

Sasha

I woke up with a craving to go for a swim.

Not just any urge—all-consuming, unlike anything I've experienced before. Sure, I've longed for ice cream and chocolate, especially brownies. Thinking of my favorite thing in the world—fudge brownies—makes me drool. But this desire to swim is intense, and I know it's the need to be in salt water… just as I'd been in the fjord waters.

However, to avoid being charged by Asbesta again, I'm settling for fresh water this morning, splashing in the pool behind my cabin. I dip under, my tail propelling me the length of the pool, then come up less than a foot from Chowder. He's on his back, smacking a rock into a large clam he has balanced on his chest. I had to buy him a bunch on the way home yesterday because I know he loves them.

He makes that adorable chirping sound, almost sounding like he's chuckling. "Who wants clam?"

"It's all yours," I answer, rubbing his head. I don't eat seafood, but growing up with a wolf shifter for a father, I enjoy all kinds of land-based meat.

The sun is rising, flooding the skies with a blood-orange streak, the light breeze rustling the trees behind my cabin. Floating in the water, the earlier anxiety fades from my body. I didn't sleep well again, contemplating yesterday's events, and most prominent was Kaden and his comment about me moving into his mansion.

He was kidding, right?

I barely know him, and as we get to know each other better, we should live apart. Plus, look at my place. I glance around the cozy wooden cabin in the woods, neighbors not close, and the main road out of sight. It's perfect for me. And Chowder loves it.

Just then, I spot two uniformed guards—those who work for the city, who are responsible for maintaining some level of peace. Except why are they at my place?

Having seen me, they make their way toward us in the backyard. I swim quickly to the edge of the pool, mostly to avoid flashing them since I'm in my mermaid form. I'm sure they've seen my kind before, but that doesn't mean I'm comfortable with having them leering at me.

With scowls and darkness under their eyes, they don't look pleased. Something in my stomach unsettles.

"How can I help you, Officers?" I ask, keeping my voice light, feeling slightly awkward seeing as my breasts are bare, but I use the side of the pool to cover myself.

"Sasha Snow?" the tall one asks.

"Yes, that's me," I answer.

"We need to bring you into the station for questioning."

My heart drops into my stomach. "Excuse me?" I splutter, glancing at Chowder, who seems as confused as me. He's no longer on his back but swimming closer to the guards, eyeing them suspiciously.

"There's a case that requires your cooperation."

"What case?" My thoughts are on fast-forward, thinking if this has anything to do with the fjord trespassing and Asbesta's guard, who lost two of his fingers to Chowder.

"For what?" I continue incredulously.

"We'll explain everything once we get to the station," the officer replies. "Now, you can come of your own accord or by force." He touches the cuffs on his hip.

I swallow hard, stunned, my pulse thumping under my skin, that things keep going from bad to worse for me.

"I've done nothing wrong," I mutter, shaken up. "Look, I need to get out of the pool and get dressed. I'll come with you, no trouble. Just… can you look away?"

They both shake their heads in unison. I heave a sigh, wanting to argue but not in the mood to be manhandled while naked. Already pulling back my mermaid form, I frown and swim to the steps. At least, I manage to give them a side profile of me naked as I climb out, feeling their leering gazes all over me. My skin crawls as I hastily grab my towel and wrap it around myself.

"I guess you're coming inside with me while I put on some clothes."

They nod; of course they do. Assholes.

Grinding my teeth, I call, "Chowder, let's head indoors."

He swims over rapidly, his gaze narrowing at the men. I pick him up, holding him close under my arm. The last thing I need is a repeat of what happened with the last guard who came to my house.

Ten minutes later, after the most awkward dressing session of my life, trying to keep the towel around me while pulling on clothes, I head into the kitchen. I give Chowder extra food and close him indoors before being guided to their car by the officers.

The whole trip, they don't say a word, and I don't bombard them with questions, knowing they're just the messengers. But I have no idea what the hell is going on.

Finally arriving at the station, the silence continues as they lead me inside. They guide me along a narrow hallway to a small, dimly lit room with a table and a couple of chairs. One of the guards motions for me to sit.

"Wait here," he says curtly before they both leave me alone.

I flop down on a seat, the metal chair cold, even through my clothes. My thoughts are still spinning out of control with confusion. What could they possibly want from me?

The door opens, and a curvy woman walks in. She's wearing a crisp burgundy dress with buttons running down the front, her hair is pulled off her face in a ponytail, and her expression is serious. She takes a seat across the table from me, folding her hands on the table.

"Do you know why you're here?" she asks, her thin eyebrows arching on her round face.

"Not a clue," I answer, leaning back in my chair. "What's going on?"

"Where were you last Wednesday morning, before midday?" she asks, jumping right into it.

I think back to almost a week ago, barely remembering what I had for dinner last night. Then it hits me—it was the day I went on my first mission in Norway, when I went into the fjord. The beginning of all my troubles.

"I was on a work mission, investigating a location by the fjords. Did something happen?" Part of me wonders if this is all related to my time in the fjord and Asbesta.

"Do you have anyone who can corroborate your whereabouts?" the officer asks. "We spoke with your boss, and she said you were in the office after midday, but before that, she hadn't heard from you."

"You spoke with my boss?" I stammer, feeling a bit of panic rising that I'll get fired for drawing the authorities to my workplace, for appearing like I'm causing trouble.

The woman in front of me just stares with huge brown eyes, her expression stern.

"Okay, look, you're asking questions that don't make sense," I mutter.

She leans forward, lips tight. "I'm going to be straight with you, Sasha. We know you're a bounty hunter, a mermaid, but you could be in a lot of trouble. Last Wednesday, a ship close to shore washed into the docks with seven crew members butchered."

"And?" I blink at her, confused. "What's that got to do with me?"

The woman releases a heavy breath. "Two sailors on the boat place you at the scene as the mermaid who attacked the men and pulled their throats out."

I laugh almost hysterically. "You've got to be joking."

"The thing is, no one can place you for several hours from the morning until lunch, and that's enough time to reach a boat that was attacked not far from shore."

"Wait, why would I even do that?" My gut is churning with a sick feeling.

"That's what I'm here to discover." She tilts her head, studying me.

"Well, I didn't do it," I state, feeling like I'm in a crazy town.

"Two crew members who survived both swear they saw you in town the other day and reported you as their attacker."

"I don't understand." I shift in my seat, stunned and confused. "This has to be a mistake. I was doing my job, investigating a case by the fjord, and I sure as hell wasn't out at sea. I mean, I went for a swim in the fjord, and if that's a crime, I'll accept my punishment. But I didn't attack any ship or its crew."

My knees are bouncing under the table as perspiration rolls down my back. I shouldn't be nervous when I'm innocent, yet she's staring at me like I'm under a microscope.

The woman's gaze doesn't soften. "I need you to come with me, because right now, you're a prime suspect."

"There has to be some mistake. I would never?—"

"We'll get to the bottom of it," she says, cutting me off. "For now, please come with me."

"Fine." I swallow hard, my pulse speeding. "But I'm telling you, this is all a huge misunderstanding."

The officer takes me into a stark, cold room where three other guards stand watch. Two men are seated across the room, and they look rough, dressed casually. One has tattoos snaking up his arms, and the other has a scar running down his cheek. Their eyes lock on to me with a mix of fear and hatred, glaring my way as though I'm some kind of monster.

"That's her!" one of them yells, his face turning pale as he points a trembling finger at me. He reels back, hitting the wall behind him, his eyes wide with terror.

I feel a rush of confusion and fear. "I didn't attack any damn ship!" My words shake, but I try to keep my composure.

The second guy's hands are shaking, too. "It's definitely her. I'll never forget that face."

Before I can react, one of the guards steps forward and wrenches my hands behind my back before slapping cuffs on my wrists. "You're under arrest, Sasha Snow." It happens so fast I barely have time to register it. The metal bites into my skin, the cold sting sending a shock wave of panic through my body.

"You can't do this!" I shout, trying to twist free. "I'm innocent!"

They don't listen. They drag me out of the room, and I fight against their grip, my heart pounding in my chest.

"You're making a mistake, please!" My voice is desperate, pleading.

The officer in front of me pauses outside a closed door to what appears to be a cell, holding up a photo for me.

"The men's identification of you confirms our other evidence," she states, her response cold. She thrusts the photo farther into my face. "One of the sailors on the ship took this while you attacked his colleagues as proof. Otherwise, no one would believe him."

I stare at the photo, my breath catching in my throat. The image is slightly shaky and slanted, but it clearly shows a horrific scene. One of the crew members is about to fall over, his throat ripped out by a woman with aquamarine hair standing almost facing the direction of the camera, holding the bloody throat in her grasp. She's completely naked, blood sprayed across her chest.

But it's her face that grabs my attention.

She looks so much like me—same almond-shaped eyes, same facial structure. It's uncanny, but as I look closer, I realize it isn't me.

The icy, hard truth strikes me hard.

"Fuck, wait!" Is that my mom? She's a siren, not a mermaid! And she appears like she hasn't aged at all. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes at the past rearing its ugly head, but I blink them away.

Flashes of images of her stealing my dad's life, the look on her face, her transformation into a siren… it's right there, fresh on my mind, still coiled like barbed wire around my heart. She's in this photo, appearing as though she's miles away in her thoughts, yet she just killed a sailor… seven, apparently.

My whole body trembles with anger and confusion. My mind aches with dread, swallowing me, as I try to piece together some explanation, some way to prove my innocence. I can't let this happen. I can't let them think I did this.

"You asked me if someone can corroborate my whereabouts for last Wednesday," I blurt out. My words are breaking, heat churning in my gut. "I wasn't alone when I went to investigate the fjord. I have proof that it's not me in the photo." Even as I speak, I can't get my mom's image from that photo out of my head. "You can contact them for my alibi."

"I will need their details," she states.

My thoughts are consumed with why my mom is attacking a boat, killing sailors. That's not normal siren behavior. Sure, she might kill one or two, drowning a sailor, but it's rare. Seven is beyond unusual, especially doing it openly on a ship.

"The person in the photo isn't me. It's my mom," I state.

The female officer pauses, glancing at the other guards before looking back at me. The stern woman narrows her gaze. "I'm listening."

My thoughts spin with disbelief, and it takes me a moment to track my voice.

My mom… A wave of nausea washes over me, my insides twisting in knots.

"She's a siren," I whisper. "I considered her dead for years, but that's definitely her, not me."

The officer's expression softens a fraction. "That's something we will investigate, too, but until I speak with someone about your alibi, you're not going anywhere," she explains firmly.

It feels like the ground has been ripped out from under me, being blamed for something Mom did.

The cuffs dig into my wrists, and tears are stinging my eyes from everything she took from me and what she's about to destroy now. I try to stay calm, but the panic is overwhelming. I glance around, trying to find something, anything, that makes sense, but there's nothing. Only cold walls and stern faces.

And the stabbing ache of seeing my mom after so many years…