POV: Zara
I was drowning. Cold water filled my lungs, pulled me down into darkness. I tried to swim toward the surface, toward the light, but something heavy wrapped around my ankles, dragging me deeper.
"Zara."
A voice. Familiar. Distant.
"Baby girl, you have to fight."
I opened my eyes, or thought I did, and saw my mother standing in the water beside me. She looked exactly as I remembered. Dark hair, kind eyes, the small scar on her chin from a childhood accident.
"Mom?" My voice sounded strange, muffled by the water. "You're dead."
"I know." She smiled sadly. "But you're not. Not yet. So you have to fight."
"I'm tired."
"I know you are. But you're carrying a life inside you. A baby who needs you to be strong." She reached out, touching my face. "The Hartley men are cursed, Zara. Violence and obsession run in their blood. But you have a choice. You can break the cycle."
"How?"
"By surviving. By being stronger than their darkness."
