I’ll kill them all. Anyone who scared her. Down to the last man.
The pain in my chest, near my heart, cuts off abruptly as the cold focus of battle settles in. I tighten my grip on Ashley’s chin. “Run right in front of me,” I tell her. “Don’t turn around. Don’t hesitate. I’m going to shoot over your head.”
“Okay,” she says, voice broken with how hard she’s shaking.
I pick her up, plant her in front of me, and push. “Go,” I shout at her back. “Go, go, go.”
Ashley runs.
Buddy runs after her, the hem of her sundress brushing his fur.
This is the most important moment of my life. I have to see everything.
And I do see everything. Nicholas in the hatch of the ship, tracking our movements. Caspian and Jason up on deck, firing and firing and firing. The crowd splitting off in front of us. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to shoot, that my warning would be overkill, but two men come hand over hand onto the dock by my ship. Their expressions are wrong. They want blood. Ours.
I swing to the side and put a bullet through the first one’s chest. He falls backward into the water, but his partner doesn’t give him a second glance. They’re not crew, then. Mercenaries. Who did this? The second has his rifle up and his finger on the trigger. My first shot hits him in the shoulder. My second in the gut while he’s going down. His rifle falls, and he’s clutching his stomach with both hands when he rolls off the dock and disappears.
Nicholas shoots someone I don’t see off to my right, and then we’re closing in fast. I feel every footstep, and every one of Ashley’s. A sea breeze presses its palm against my back, urging me toward the ship. That same breeze gets caught in Ashley’s sundress and it wraps around her legs, pulling her forward as she runs. Her feet do not tangle. The floor-length hem never gets in her way.
She runs as fast as she can for Nicholas, and this—this is what all her hiking was for. This moment. This second. I gave her such shit about it, and she was right. She needed it. For this. For survival.
I did things for survival at the farmhouse, too. Under my icy resolve to end the lives of everyone who’s involved with this travesty, hope pushes up like a weed in Demeter’s garden. Hope that I’m not the devil himself for wanting her with me always. Hope that she’s strong enough to withstand me.
The way she runs right now tells me she is.
Nicholas steps fully onto the dock as she approaches, giving her a clear path into the ship, and Ashley doesn’t falter. Three quick steps across the dock and she’s in. My first mate is bellowing something at someone behind me—the last of the crew.
Ashley didn’t stop, but Buddy did. Fuck if I’ll leave him behind now. He bit that asshole. I scoop him up in one arm and jump onto the ship, then press myself flat to the wall to let the last guys through. Nicholas is last.
He slams the hatch shut behind us, plunging us into a near-perfect darkness. I can feel her there. Ashley’s breathing hard, but she’s not shaking anymore.
The ship’s lights power on automatically and a knot in my gut releases. We have confirmation of the electrical system, at least. Once there’s enough light to see, the crew scatters. They’ll be going to their stations.
Being on board doesn’t solve all our problems.
“Caspian?” I ask Nicholas.
“On his own ship. Jumped off and swam for it. They’re getting out now.”
He goes up the stairs ahead of me, and I put Ashley between us and keep a hand on her back. Another series of turns, another flight of stairs, and we burst out onto the bridge.
Louis waits there, his hands on the helm, gaze locked out the starboard windows. My demand for a status report never makes it past my tongue.
The scaffolds across from us are on fire. An explosion, dulled by the reinforced glass of the bridge, takes out a ship at the dry dock. Then it’s impossible to tell which fires are from bombs and which are from building materials and gasoline igniting.
“Louis.”
His jaw works. He knows what this means. He knows he’s watching our sanctuary go up in flames. It hurts. “Captain.”
“Can she sail?”
“I—” Louis is a seasoned sailor. He’s been navigating for me for years. But it takes him quite a bit of effort to tear his eyes off the scene in the shipyard. Flames shoot into the sky, and I can’t let it sink in that my life has led to this. “I have her powered up. Engines are ready. Steering is online. Nav system is communicating.” His voice gets steadier as he goes down the list.
“I know she’s not finished,” I announced, mostly for his benefit. So he knows I won’t expect him to push her too hard, or too far. “But this is our only hope. Nicholas, do we have confirmation on the dock lines?”
He goes to the window. “Jason just cut the last one.”
Emergency protocol. We don’t untie them if there isn’t time. I put a hand on Louis’s shoulder. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
14
Ashley
This is not the first time Poseidon has sent me below decks while there’s trouble, and it could not be more different now.
I’m in his quarters. Brand-new, shining wood paneling everywhere. It’s like the Trident but not the Trident. This space hasn’t been lived in, and it’s weird. I thought being in the cliffside mansion with him was strange, but being in his room alone when it’s not really his yet...
I don’t love it. I want him to be here, with all his things, with his life still intact. An impossible wish, unless we can somehow build a new life together while we’re under attack.
Buddy curls up next to the bedframe. It’s the full frame now, with storage drawers underneath and all the steel covered in dark, warm wood, but there’s nowhere for him to hide underneath. He whines pitifully, his tail tucked in. My anxiety is seeping into the room. It’s hard not to be anxious when there are running footsteps everywhere around us. Poseidon didn’t have the full crew on the island. That means everyone here is doing extra work, extra jobs, and they don’t have time to walk casually.
My gut tightens. They could be following us from the island. And even if that man with his tattoo is not following us specifically, there’s more danger out on the open ocean.
The government is after us. The United States government. It was easier not to think about it in the cliffside mansion, where everything seemed far away except the crushing grief and the pieces of the past that showed up on my doorstep.
My gasp scares Buddy so much that he runs over to me, barking, and pushes against my legs. The box. The safe-deposit box. I don’t have it. Nicholas emailed me the photos and the coded file from the USB drive, but the jewelry—
I don’t care about the jewelry. It’s the letter I want. It’s the only piece of my mother’s handwriting I have left.
With tears balling up in my throat so hard the muscles ache, I rub between Buddy’s ears until he settles down. This is bad. This is all very bad. A jagged fear saws out of me with every breath. Poseidon has always been strong. Invincible. Losing the Trident hurt him, but he won against the Navy and bought us some time. But now he’s truly on the run. People he hired to help him rebuild his ship—people he hired when he’s never been more vulnerable—betrayed him. Sold him out.