WATER SPLASH : MERMAID ADVENTURE

QUEEN MARABELLA ISLAND(12)

CHAPTER TWELVE

The bar throbbed with laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint pulse of music. Zayan leaned back in his chair, drink in hand that no longer calmed him. His jaw tightened as he scrolled through his phone. Jace had brushed him off once already, but his pride wouldn’t let it go. He dialed again.

When the call connected, he snapped, “Jace, where are you? Come back to the bar.”

“I’m not coming back,” Jace replied flatly.

Zayan rolled his eyes, forcing a scoff. “Did you see Clara?”

A sigh echoed on the other end. “No. Neither she nor your speedboat is at the port.”

Zayan bolted upright, his drink nearly spilling. “I told you, Annalise probably came for her, or she swam back. She’s a pretender.” He tried to cover the edge in his voice with a laugh.

“What? That’s impossible…” His voice cracked before he caught himself, covering it with a sharp laugh. But the words sank in, crawling under his skin. His boat. Not there.

But Jace’s reply was like ice water. “If she’s a pretender, what does that make you?”

The line went dead.

For a moment, Zayan stood frozen, his knuckles white around the phone. The bar’s laughter and chatter suddenly grated against his ears, making him feel trapped. He shoved his chair back, drawing startled looks.

“Where are you going?” his girlfriend asked, a playful lilt in her voice, as if teasing him back into the fun.

“The port,” Zayan snapped, brushing past her.

“At this time?” she pressed, frowning. “What’s so urgent?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” His temper flared, but it was panic burning beneath it now. Without another word, he stormed out, the warm glow of string lights fading behind him as the night swallowed his figure.

By the time he reached the dock, the bar’s warmth was far behind him. Zayan’s footsteps echoed hollowly across the dock, each strike against the wood feeding his frustration. The night air was cool, heavy with salt, and the waves crashed distantly against the pilings. But no matter how hard he looked, the truth stayed the same.

The slip where his boat should’ve been was empty.

“Jace was right…” he muttered, pacing the planks. His fingers drummed anxiously against his thigh. “The speedboat’s gone.”

He stopped abruptly, patting his pocket. How could they even move it without my keys?

His chest tightened. His hands dove into his jacket, then his jeans, nothing.

“My keys…” he whispered.

The realization slammed into him.

“They actually took my boat.” His voice rose, breaking into a sharp edge. “Would Annalise seriously do that? Who does she think she is?”

He forced a bitter laugh. “If Annalise had come for her friend, she’d have texted me. No way she’d pass up a chance to rub it in my face.” His words quickened with his thoughts. “Unless… this was payback?”

Before his thoughts could spiral further, his phone buzzed violently. He snatched it up.

“Dad?”

His father’s voice was low, stern, laced with urgency. “Zayan listen. Your aunt just called. Annalise and her friends are missing. She managed to get through once. She said they’re stranded on Queen Marabella Island. The coast guard has already been alerted.”

The words knocked the breath from Zayan’s lungs. His grip tightened on the phone, but for once, no clever remark came. Just a dry whisper: “She’s… stranded?” Zayan’s chest tightened. “But how…”

“Doesn’t matter how,” his father interrupted, firm and final. “What matters is they’re in danger. Stay where you are. I’ll update you once I know more.”

And just like that, the line went dead.

Zayan stood motionless on the dock, the weight of the call pressing in from all sides. His boat. His missing keys. His petty game. All the pieces clicked into place with brutal clarity.

“They really did take my boat,” he muttered, his voice hollow now. “And they went to Queen Marabella…”

Panic tightened in his chest. He fumbled for his phone again, hands unsteady, and dialed Jace.

The line clicked.

Jace’s voice came cold and tired: “What now?”

On the island, the girls sat slumped along the sandy shoreline, the tide lapping gently at their feet as though the ocean itself sought to comfort them. Their clothes clung damply to their skin, and their breaths came shallow, uneven.

Clara hugged her knees to her chest, trembling, her wide eyes fixed on the restless Ocean. Beside her, Monica rubbed her arms, shivering though the night was warm. The others exchanged confused glances now and then, but mostly they sat in silence, leaning on one another for the little strength they had left.

Then, faint at first, came the low hum of engines. The sound carried over the waves, growing louder, sharper, until beams of white light sliced through the dark horizon. Searchlights swept across the water, scattering across the sand.

Miranda lifted her head, hope flickering in her tired eyes. With effort, she forced herself to her feet, swaying unsteadily. “Over here!” she croaked, her voice hoarse but urgent. She waved her arms weakly, each movement draining what little energy she had left.

The others stirred at her cry, relief flooding their weary faces as the beams of light finally landed on them. Two coast guard boats drew nearer, their engines rumbling against the stillness of the night.

Moments later, men in uniform splashed onto the shore, rushing toward the girls. They found them scattered and dazed, their bodies weak, their eyes unfocused, barely able to form words.

Whatever had happened in the cave was lost to them now, locked away in the depths of their subconscious, as unreachable as the shimmering symbols and the pull of the moonlight. All that remained was confusion… and the quiet terror of not knowing why.

Strong hands reached for them, lifting each girl with care. The guards exchanged quick, concerned glances as they took in the sight: pale faces, trembling bodies, lips pressed tight as though words had been stolen from them.

“Pulse is weak but steady,” one guard muttered, pressing fingers on Miranda’s wrist before moving on to check Annalise.

Another guard leaned closer to Clara, who had gone rigid at the stranger’s touch, her aquaphobia still gripping her. “Easy, you’re safe,” he said gently, wrapping a blanket around her trembling frame.

Radios crackled as messages flew between the shore and the command boat offshore. “We’ve found them. All six accounted for. Weak but responsive. Requesting immediate medical support at the dockside.”

Beyoncé stirred faintly in her blanket, her lips parting as if to speak, but nothing came, just a soft groan. Monica gripped her hand and squeezed, silently reassuring her.

One by one, the girls were guided toward the boats. Their legs barely carried them; more than once a guard had to hold a shoulder steady or lift them outright. The ocean’s black surface glistened as they stepped aboard, the waves slapping against the hull like a heartbeat echoing in the night.

As the engines roared back to life, carrying them away from the cursed stillness of Queen Marabella’s shores, Annalise raised her head weakly. Her eyes flicked toward the island, now shrinking in the distance under the full moon’s fading light. A shiver coursed through her, not from the cold, but from the gnawing, unshakable sense that the island wasn’t done with them yet.

She lowered her gaze, clutching the blanket tighter. The others sat huddled beside her, silent, each of them caught between relief and a hollow fear they could not explain.