Chapter 5: The Sun-Fire Depths

The sanatorium was a haven of sterile calm, a world away from the suffocating drama of the pack house. Emilia sat by her mother’s bedside, holding a frail hand. Her mother, though weakened by the degenerative illness that even the best pack healers could only manage, still possessed a sharp intuition. “My little star,” her mother whispered, her voice a soft rustle. “Your light is dim. The bond… it feels frayed.” Emilia forced a smile, the lie tasting bitter. “It’s nothing, Mother. Wesley is just… busy with pack affairs.” She couldn’t tell her the truth. The stress would be detrimental to her health, and Wesley held that health in his hands. Leaving the sanatorium felt like stepping back into a warzone. Her phone buzzed as she drove—a text from Wesley’s assistant. ‘The Alpha requests your presence at the pool house. Immediately.’ A cold dread trickled down her spine. The pool house. It was never a good sign. She found them there, the air thick with chlorine and the cloying scent of Sarah’s tropical sunscreen. Wesley lounged on a sunbed, a picture of indolent power, while Sarah splashed playfully in the water. Spread out on a small table beside him, gleaming like captured fire, was the Sun-Fire ruby set. “You’re late,” Wesley stated, not looking at her. Before Emilia could speak, Sarah gave a theatrical gasp, clutching her throat. “Wesley! The necklace… it slipped! It’s at the bottom of the deep end!” Emilia’s heart stopped. The deep end was over twelve feet. And Sarah was pointing directly at the center. Wesley’s gaze, cold and expectant, settled on Emilia. “Well? Retrieve it.” He knew. He knew the water was her deepest fear. The scar on her wrist wasn't the only reminder of the rogue attack. The memory of being held under the icy, churning water of a river, her lungs burning, her world narrowing to nothing but panic and the scent of mud and blood, was a phantom pain that never left her. “Wesley, I…” Her voice trembled, the fear a living thing clawing its way up her throat. “It’s your family’s heirloom, isn’t it?” he asked, his tone deceptively mild. “A true daughter of her bloodline would not hesitate to reclaim it. Or do you value your comfort over your own heritage?” The taunt was expertly aimed. He was questioning her very identity, using her love for her mother against her. Sarah paddled to the edge, her eyes wide with feigned concern. “Oh, Emilia, I’m so sorry! If only I were a stronger swimmer…” The sight of her mockery snapped something inside Emilia. The fear was still there, a cold stone in her gut, but it was now encased in a layer of white-hot rage. One month, she reminded herself. For Mother. Without another word, she walked to the pool’s edge. The water looked like a blue abyss. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and jumped. The shock of the water was instantaneous. It wasn't just cold; it was a sensory assault that triggered a full-blown panic attack. Her lungs seized. The old memories flooded her—the roar of the river, the crushing weight, the certainty of death. Her limbs flailed, uncoordinated. She was sinking, not swimming. Her chest burned, screaming for air. Through the distorted, shimmering water, she could see two blurred figures standing at the edge, watching. One was rigid, the other was smiling. She fought her way back to the surface, gasping and choking, only a few feet from where she’d jumped in. A low growl rumbled from the poolside. “Stop fooling around and get it,” Wesley commanded, his patience clearly gone. “Or I will have the pool drained, and the set will be melted down for scrap.” The finality in his voice broke her. He would destroy her mother’s legacy out of sheer spite. Desperation lent her a shred of strength. She forced her body under, kicking downwards, fighting the terror every inch of the way. Her fingers brushed the smooth tile of the bottom. Her vision was spotting, her lungs screaming. There! A glint of red. She grabbed the necklace, her fist closing around the precious stones, and pushed off with the last of her strength. She broke the surface, heaving in great, ragged gulps of air. She swam to the side, her body trembling violently from the cold and the aftermath of panic. She hauled herself out, dripping and pathetic, and held out the necklace, the rubies gleaming in her palm. Wesley took it from her, his fingers brushing against her ice-cold skin without a flicker of concern. He examined the necklace, then turned to Sarah. “It’s undamaged. See? Nothing to worry about.” He placed the Sun-Fire ruby necklace around Sarah’s neck. The vibrant red stones looked obscene against her sun-kissed skin, a trophy of a conquest she hadn't even had to fight for. Sarah preened, touching the jewels with a possessive delight. “It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.” Wesley’s attention finally returned to Emilia, shivering on the cold tile. “You’re dripping on the deck. Clean it up before you leave.” He then put an arm around Sarah and led her away, back toward the main house, leaving Emilia alone on the wet tiles, the scent of chlorine and her own humiliation clinging to her like a second skin. The water dripping from her hair felt like tears her pride would no longer allow her to shed.