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"Get your hands off my ship." The enforcer's shock baton cracked against Cassian Vance's ribs, and he hit the iron deck hard enough to bite his tongue.
"Your ship?" The enforcer laughed through his mask. "The cartel owns the dock. The cartel owns the ironclad. And right now, Captain, the cartel owns your neck."
A metal collar hugged Cassian's throat. Two red needles blinked beneath his jaw. Every breath made the device tighten by a fraction.
He pushed himself onto one knee. Three men had him boxed against the loading rail. All wore black oilskin armor, brass faceplates, and the white hook painted across their chests. Behind them, Dock Nine groaned over the black water. Chains swung above the gap where his ironclad waited, half-fueled and half-buried under cargo nets.
His ship was twenty yards away.
His freedom was farther.
"Take one more step," Cassian said, "and I'll make you swim for it."
The enforcer captain pressed a boot against his hand. "You don't have a ship. You don't have a crew. You don't have a pulse that belongs to you. The collar gets a signal from my glove. I close my fist, and your heart stops trying."
Cassian looked at the glove. Copper wires ran from the captain's wrist into a small black control box.
"Then close it," Cassian said. "Unless you're scared of what happens when I die."
The captain's eyes narrowed behind the brass plate. "You're not worth the trouble. The bounty is."
"What bounty?"
"The one on your head."
The baton came up again.
Cassian moved first.
He caught the enforcer's wrist, twisted until metal plates screeched, and drove his forehead into the man's faceplate. The impact rang through Cassian's skull. The enforcer staggered. Cassian ripped the shock baton free and swung it sideways.
Blue current snapped across the nearest guard's chest. He folded with a choked cry.
The third guard drew a hand cannon.
"Down!" someone shouted from the upper catwalk.
Cassian dropped as the shot punched through the railing behind him. Splinters of iron whipped across his cheek. He rolled under a suspended fuel crate, kicked the lower hinge, and sent the crate crashing into two more men rushing from the dock office.
"He's loose!" the captain yelled. "Lock the gantry!"
"You should've done that before touching me," Cassian called.
He sprinted.
The dock shook under his boots. Not from the gunfire. Something below had struck the support pylons.
A deep boom rolled up through the iron flooring.
Every enforcer stopped for half a second.
Cassian didn't.
He vaulted the broken rail, caught a hanging chain, and swung toward the waiting ironclad. The chain burned through his gloves. He hit the outer hull shoulder-first, bounced off the riveted plating, and grabbed the ladder bolted beneath the conning tower.
"Fire!" the captain screamed.
Bullets sparked against the hull.
Cassian pulled himself up. A round clipped his coat and spun him against the ladder. He glanced down through the gaps.
The black sea had opened beneath Dock Nine.
Not parted. Opened.
A pale row of curved teeth slid between the support pylons. Each tooth was as long as a man. Water poured around it, carrying broken lamps, cargo hooks, and one screaming guard who vanished before he hit the surface.
"Move!" Cassian shouted. "The dock's going down!"
"Get back here!" the captain roared. "The collar is armed!"
"So am I."
Cassian reached the hatch, spun the wheel, and dropped into the ironclad's cramped control room. The hatch slammed shut above him. Gunfire rattled over the glass canopy. Red emergency lights flickered across the gauges.
The ship smelled of hot brass, old oil, and salt trapped in the walls.
Cassian grabbed the starter lever.
Nothing happened.
"Come on," he muttered. "Don't make me beg."
He slammed the lever down again. The engine coughed once and died.
The deck lurched.
A support pylon snapped outside with a sound like a cannon blast. The ironclad rolled toward the dock edge. Loose tools skidded across the floor. A pressure gauge shattered against the bulkhead.
Cassian caught the console and looked at the collar's reflection in the glass.
The red needles under his jaw blinked faster.
A speaker mounted above the helm crackled.
"Cassian Vance," the cartel captain said. His voice filled the control room. "You have five seconds to open that hatch."
Cassian wiped blood from his mouth. "You still need me alive."
"Four."
"You need the ship alive too."
"Three."
Cassian pulled open the maintenance panel beneath the helm. Bundles of copper wire shook in their brackets. The ironclad had been built by someone who believed warning labels were a personal insult. He found the emergency bypass, yanked the cover away, and exposed two thick cables.
"Two."
Cassian bit down on the baton handle and jammed the cables against the collar's side contacts.
"One."
The control room filled with white light.
The collar locked.
Pain tore through his throat and down both arms. His fingers clawed at the console. Every muscle seized. For one sharp second, he smelled burned metal and tasted blood.
Outside, the cartel captain laughed.
"Good night, Captain."
Cassian forced his hand to move.
He wrapped his fingers around the collar's lower edge. The metal had heated against his skin. It should have been too hot to touch.
It wasn't.
The engine's dead pipes rattled beneath him. The vibration crawled up through the deck and into his palm. He felt each pressure line. Each stuck valve. Each clogged intake. The ironclad spoke in shudders and clicks, and Cassian understood every one.
"You're not dead yet," he whispered. "Neither am I."
He pulled.
The collar resisted. Its locking teeth dug deeper. Sparks sprayed across his knuckles.
The speaker crackled again. "Open the hatch!"
Cassian bared his teeth. "Come open it yourself."
He pulled harder.
A bolt snapped.
The collar's first band tore away from his throat.
The dock screamed beneath the hull. The sea jaws closed around another support. Iron twisted. The waiting ironclad slid three feet toward the gap.
Cassian braced one boot against the helm and wrenched the collar sideways.
"You don't get to put a leash on me," he growled.
The second bolt broke.
The collar came off in his hand.
The electrical surge died. Cassian dropped to one knee, coughing hard. His throat felt raw. A thin line of blood ran beneath his jaw, but the red needles had gone dark.
Then the engine roared.
Not because he had used the starter.
Because he had reached into the open panel and turned the right valve.
The sound shook the control room. Steam punched through the pipes. A pressure alarm began to howl.
Cassian staggered upright.
"All right," he said to the ironclad. "You and me. One bad decision at a time."
The speaker snapped on.
"Vance!" the cartel captain shouted. "I can still drop the dock gates!"
Cassian grabbed the throttle. "Then drop them."
"You'll crush your own ship."
"Not if I move first."
"You don't know what is under that water."
Cassian looked through the forward canopy.
The teeth below the dock rose higher. A wet black ridge slid past the glass. No eyes. No face. Just armored flesh and a mouth wide enough to swallow the dock office.
"I know enough," Cassian said. "You wanted me trapped between your guns and that thing."
"I wanted you useful."
"You should've tried paying me."
"Your warrant makes you property."
Cassian's grip tightened around the throttle. "Say that again."
"Death-row captains don't own anything. Not ships. Not names. Not their own lives."
Cassian shoved the throttle forward.
The ironclad launched from the dock.
Its rear turbines kicked black water into the air. The hull tore through the cargo nets, dragging chains behind it. A dozen metal hooks slammed against the canopy. Cassian ducked as one punched through the roof and swung over his head.
The ship cleared the first collapsing platform by inches.
Behind him, the dock folded into the sea jaws.
Enforcers fired from the remaining gantry. Bullets sparked across the stern. One struck a pressure line. Steam blasted into the control room from the port wall.
Cassian staggered away from the helm.
"Damn it!"
The speaker answered with Brant Thorne's rough voice. "That you talking to me or the boat?"
Cassian grabbed the intercom. "Where are you?"
"Below deck. Trying to keep your precious engine from becoming a bomb."
"How long?"
"Until it becomes a bomb? Thirty seconds."
"Make it forty."
"You want forty, stop driving like a drunk cannonball."
"The dock is eating us."
"Then don't let it."
Another impact slammed into the hull. Cassian hit the side rail and caught himself before falling. Through the canopy, a thick black limb curled over the dock. Its surface glistened with seawater and pale scars.
The creature dragged itself upward.
The cartel captain's voice came through the speaker again, thinner now. "Vance, cut your engines."
Cassian laughed once. "You sound nervous."
"Cut the engines!"
"You had a whole squad and a shock collar. What happened to all that confidence?"
A gunship emerged behind the collapsing dock, its armored prow fitted with three harpoon launchers. Cartel colors flashed across its side. The captain had made it aboard.
The gunship's search lamps swept across the ironclad.
Cassian reached for the weapon controls. The panel stayed dark.
"Brant."
"Busy."
"I need the cannons."
"You need a miracle."
"I asked for the cannons."
"Port battery's dead. Starboard's jammed. The forward gun has one shell and a cracked feed line."
Cassian looked at the gunship closing fast. "One shell is enough."
"For what? A warning?"
"For the ship."
"You mean them or us?"
"The one behind us."
Brant swore. Metal clanged over the intercom. "Give me a minute."
"You have ten seconds."
"Then pray faster."
The first harpoon fired.
Cassian threw the throttle hard to starboard. The ironclad rolled. The harpoon missed the stern and tore across the upper canopy, dragging a chain that smashed through the glass in a shower of white fragments.
Pressure alarms screamed.
Black water slapped against the broken section.
Cassian seized the release lever and yanked it. A steel shield snapped over the damaged canopy. It stopped the flooding, but the ironclad lost visibility on the right side.
The gunship turned to follow.
"You can't outrun us," the cartel captain said over the speaker. "Your engines are old, your hull is damaged, and you're alone."
Cassian leaned toward the microphone. "You keep listing my advantages like they're problems."
"You think this is a game?"
"No. Games have rules."
The second harpoon fired.
Cassian slammed the ship into reverse.
The harpoon screamed past the bow. Its chain scraped the hull and caught on a forward cleat. The gunship kept moving, pulling the ironclad sideways.
The deck tilted.
Cassian went down on one hand. The broken collar slid across the floor and struck the bulkhead.
The gunship's winch began to reel.
"Brant! Cut the chain!"
"Can't reach the forward controls!"
"Then reach them faster!"
"I'm in the engine room, Cassian! Unless you want me to grow another set of legs—"
Cassian was already moving.
He climbed the narrow ladder toward the bow compartment. Steam burned through his coat. The ship shuddered under every pull of the winch. A seam in the forward wall began to leak.
He kicked the emergency hatch open and crawled into the weapon bay.
The forward cannon sat beneath the canopy, its brass barrel aimed at nothing. A single shell rested in the feed cradle. The chain outside had wrapped around the barrel mount.
Cassian grabbed the manual release wheel.
It refused to turn.
"Of course," he said. "Why would anything work?"
The ship lurched again. Cassian slammed against the cannon housing. Heat from the barrel pressed through his shirt. The vibration ran up his arms, sharp and steady.
There it was again.
The ironclad's hidden language.
The cannon wasn't jammed. The safety pin had dropped halfway. The feed line had bent. The mount had locked because the ship believed it was sinking.
Cassian pressed his palm against the housing.
"You're not sinking," he said. "You're being dragged. Big difference."
The metal trembled under his hand.
"You hear me? Open."
The mount clicked.
Cassian spun the wheel. The chain tore free from the cannon and snapped across the bow window.
The gunship's winch jerked uselessly. Its own speed carried it ahead.
Cassian shoved the shell into the feed cradle and pulled the firing lever.
The cannon boomed.
The shell struck the gunship's rear turbine. Flame burst across its deck. Men scattered behind the rail as the vessel yawed toward the creature climbing from the sea.
The cartel captain screamed through the speaker. "You just killed your only chance to live!"
Cassian climbed back toward the helm. "You were never my chance."
The gunship vanished beneath the creature's rising body.
For one second, the black sea went quiet.
Then the thing opened its mouth.
The sound hit the ironclad through the hull. Every gauge needle jumped. The forward lamps went dark. Somewhere below, Brant shouted a string of words that would have made a priest faint.
Cassian dropped into the control seat and pulled the throttle back.
The engine answered with a violent cough.
"Don't quit on me now," he said.
The ship slowed.
A second horror rolled beneath the water, bigger than the first. Its back broke the surface in a long ridge of bone. A third shape circled farther out, marked only by rings of pale foam.
Cassian checked the depth gauge.
The ironclad was over a trench.
The gauge needle dropped past the safe mark.
"Brant," he said into the intercom. "How deep are we?"
A pause.
"Deep enough that I don't like the answer."
"Give me a number."
"Two hundred fathoms and dropping."
Cassian looked through the forward canopy. The dock lights were disappearing behind them. The black water pressed close on every side.
"Can we surface?"
"Not with the port ballast torn open."
"Can we dive?"
"Not with the starboard ballast stuck."
"So we can do nothing."
"We can explode. The engine's still offering that option."
A hard knock struck the hull.
Cassian froze.
Another knock answered from below.
Not the engine.
Something had touched the ironclad.
The speaker hissed. Brant's breathing turned rough. "Cassian."
"I heard it."
"No, you didn't. I felt it in the engine room."
"What did you feel?"
"Fingers."
Cassian stared at the deck.
The third knock came from the port side, followed by a long scrape beneath the hull.
The ironclad's metal groaned.
"We're not alone," Brant said.
"Keep the engine hot."
"Why?"
"Because we're leaving."
"The ship can't dive or surface."
"Then we'll make it choose."
Cassian rose from the seat and reached for the ballast controls. The levers were stiff. He pulled one. Nothing.
He pulled again.
The control box sparked.
"You want to tell me what you're doing?" Brant asked.
"Making the ship angry."
"Try making it functional."
Cassian kicked open the ballast panel. A maze of pipes filled the compartment. Water hissed through a cracked valve. He could hear the pressure building inside the hull.
The ironclad trembled beneath his boots.
"Cassian," Brant said, "that sound is not good."
"You say that about everything."
"Because everything you touch turns into a funeral."
A metal claw punched through the port plating.
Cassian jumped back as three hooked digits scraped across the inner wall. The claws were black, slick, and jointed like bent armor. They searched blindly through the torn seam.
"Brant, seal the port section."
"Working on it!"
"Work faster!"
"Stop yelling at me!"
Cassian grabbed the emergency breaker and drove his elbow into it.
The ballast pumps kicked on.
The ironclad dropped.
The claw slid away as the ship plunged into deeper water. Pressure slammed against the canopy. The forward glass flexed inward with a low, ugly creak.
Cassian caught the helm and forced the nose level.
The horror above thrashed. Its body struck the surface, sending a wall of black water over the canopy. For three seconds, the ship became a dark metal box sinking through the sea.
Then the lamps came back.
A shape drifted beyond the glass.
It had too many limbs and no clear head. Pale plates covered its sides. A row of small lights opened and closed along its body, each one focused on the ironclad.
Cassian held the helm steady.
"You see that?" Brant asked.
"I see it."
"Is it following us?"
"No."
The creature moved closer.
Cassian's jaw tightened. "It's waiting."
The pale lights blinked together.
The ironclad's engine coughed.
The creature lunged.
Cassian shoved the throttle wide. The engine exploded into motion. Steam surged through every pipe. The ship shot forward, missing the creature's claws by a few feet.
The sudden acceleration threw Cassian into the seat. His shoulder struck the helm. He grunted and kept both hands on the controls.
"That was not a safe maneuver!" Brant shouted.
"We're alive."
"For now!"
The creature slammed into the stern.
The entire ironclad bucked. The lights cut out again. A warning bell rang from below.
Cassian turned the helm toward the trench wall. The depth gauge kept dropping. Eight hundred feet. Nine hundred. A thousand.
"Brant, what's below us?"
"Rock."
"How much?"
"Enough to stop a ship."
"Good."
"Good?"
Cassian aimed the bow at the dark slope. "I need the creature to hit it."
"You want to use the trench wall as a weapon?"
"I want to use anything that isn't us."
The horror came around the stern again.
Cassian waited until its pale lights appeared beside the canopy. He could see the hooked limbs folding inward, ready to strike.
"Now," he whispered.
He cut the engine.
The ironclad slowed.
The creature surged forward, jaws opening.
Cassian waited one more second.
Then he kicked the throttle back open and threw the helm hard.
The ship spun across the trench. The creature overshot, crashing into the rock wall with enough force to shake loose a cloud of stone.
Cassian drove the ironclad through the cloud.
The hull scraped the trench slope. Metal screamed against rock. The depth gauge snapped off its mount and hit the floor.
Brant's voice rose over the intercom. "You just scraped half the paint off!"
"We still have half."
"That isn't how paint works!"
The creature vanished behind them.
Cassian let the ship climb. His throat burned where the collar had cut him. His hands shook from the electrical surge, but the ironclad kept responding to every command.
He reached for the damaged intercom. "Brant."
"What?"
"How much fuel?"
"Enough for an hour if we stop doing insane things."
"Then we have an hour."
"That wasn't what I meant."
A soft click came from the rear compartment.
Cassian turned.
The inner hatch had unlocked.
No one should have been there.
The cartel had never boarded. Brant was below deck. The crew had been taken three weeks ago, one by one, after the warrant was issued.
Cassian drew the short pistol from beneath the helm.
"Brant," he said quietly, "did you open the rear hatch?"
"No. Why?"
"Because someone else did."
The hatch wheel turned another inch.
Brant swore. "I'm coming up."
"Stay below."
"You want to face whoever that is alone?"
"I want you keeping the engine alive."
"Cassian—"
"That's an order."
The hatch opened.
A woman stepped through with one hand gripping the frame and a short black pistol in the other.
She wore a soaked gray coat buttoned to the throat. A strip of dark cloth covered her eyes. Her pale hair clung to her cheeks. Water ran from her sleeves and tapped against the metal floor.
She looked directly at Cassian despite the blindfold.
His pistol came up.
Her weapon was already aimed at his chest.
"Put it down," she said.
Her voice was low, sharp, and steady. Not frightened. Not even breathing hard.
Cassian kept the pistol trained on her. "You first."
"You don't have the leverage."
"You're standing in my ship."
"And you're standing between me and the only thing keeping this hull from becoming food."
The ironclad shook. Something scraped along the outer plating.
Cassian's eyes dropped to her boots. No cartel insignia. No blood. A brass ring hung from her belt, carved with a symbol he didn't recognize.
"How did you get aboard?" he asked.
"You left the lower intake open."
"That intake is twenty feet below the surface."
"Then you should fix it."
Cassian stepped closer. The control room was too narrow for both of them to stand comfortably. His shoulder brushed her wet coat as he moved past the helm. Heat from his body met the cold water on her sleeve.
She didn't flinch.
Her pistol tracked him.
"Take one more step," she said, "and I shoot."
"You can shoot me."
"I can."
"But then you die with me."
"Maybe."
"You don't sound worried."
The corner of her mouth lifted. "You sound disappointed."
Cassian stopped an arm's length away. He could smell salt, iron, and something faintly sweet beneath it, like heated glass. Her blindfold hid her eyes, but her face stayed turned toward him with unsettling accuracy.
"You know who I am," he said.
"Everyone knows who you are."
"Most people run when they see me."
"Most people haven't been chased into an abyss by three hungry leviathans."
Another impact hit the stern. The control room lights flickered.
She kept the pistol steady, but her fingers tightened around the grip.
Cassian noticed.
"You're scared," he said.
"I'm busy."
"Same thing with better manners."
"You talk too much for a man with a damaged throat."
His hand closed around the broken skin beneath his jaw. "You know about the collar."
"I heard it."
"You heard it from underwater?"
She tilted her head. "I hear a lot of things."
The engine coughed again.
Brant shouted from below, "Cassian! We're losing pressure!"
The woman turned toward the voice.
Cassian used the moment. He knocked her pistol hand upward and caught her wrist. She twisted fast, driving her elbow toward his ribs.
He blocked it with his forearm.
Her coat sleeve slid against his knuckles. Her skin was cold. His hand was still hot from the collar's power surge.
She hissed and struck again.
"Let go," she snapped.
"Lower the gun."
"You lower yours."
"Mine is aimed at the floor."
"It won't stay there if you keep touching me."
Cassian tightened his grip just enough to hold her without hurting her. She was close now, shoulder pressed to his chest, the barrel of her pistol trapped between them. Her breath brushed his throat.
The smell of salt and heated glass grew stronger.
"Name," he said.
"Ask nicely."
"No."
"Then guess."
She hooked her boot behind his ankle and pulled.
Cassian lost balance. They hit the side of the helm together. His pistol clattered across the floor. Her back struck the console, but she kept hold of the black weapon.
He caught himself with one hand beside her head.
For half a second, neither moved.
Her chest rose against his coat. His breath touched the edge of her blindfold. The muzzle of her pistol rested under his ribs.
"You're in my way," she whispered.
"You're in my ship."
"Your ship is sinking."
"Not yet."
"Your engine is choking."
"Not yet."
"Your monsters are circling."
Cassian leaned closer. "Not yet."
Her mouth tightened. "You really like that answer."
"It keeps people alive."
"It keeps them stupid."
"And you?"
"I don't need your permission to survive."
The floor bucked beneath them.
A heavy claw scraped across the canopy overhead.
The woman raised her chin. "Move."
Cassian's eyes stayed on her face. "Tell me why you're here."
"Because the cartel wants me dead."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
"Then you'll stay right there."
Her pistol pressed harder into his side. "You think holding my wrist makes you the one in control?"
"At the moment, yes."
"You have a gun on the floor, a ship that barely moves, and three beasts outside."
"And you have one working hand trapped against my ribs."
Her lips parted. The pause lasted less than a breath, but Cassian felt it.
Then she smiled without warmth.
"You noticed."
"I notice everything on my deck."
"Liar."
She slammed her forehead into his mouth.
Pain burst across Cassian's lip. His grip loosened. She tore free, kicked his pistol beneath the helm, and backed toward the rear hatch.
Cassian wiped blood from his lip with his thumb.
"That was rude."
"You were crowding me."
"You broke into my ship."
"You keep repeating that like it changes the fact that I'm still here."
She raised her pistol again.
The ship's forward lamps died.
Something massive moved beyond the canopy.
The woman turned toward the sound before Cassian heard it. Her head angled slightly, blindfold facing the glass.
"They're coming back," she said.
"How many?"
"Three."
Cassian reached for the throttle. "Can you see them?"
"No."
"Then how do you know?"
"Because the light just moved."
He looked at her blindfold. "There is no light down here."
"You don't know what you're looking at."
"I know when someone is making things up."
"Then keep calling me a liar. It won't stop them from tearing open your hull."
A claw punched through the forward canopy.
The woman fired.
The shot struck the limb. Pale sparks burst across the glass. The claw withdrew with a shriek that made every bolt in the control room vibrate.
Cassian stared at her weapon. "That wasn't a normal round."
"No."
"What was it?"
"The last one I had."
"You wasted it."
"You're welcome."
The creature struck again, harder. The canopy bent inward. Cracks spread across the glass.
Brant shouted, "Cassian! If that window goes, we all drown!"
Cassian grabbed the throttle and forced it forward. The engine coughed, then caught. The ironclad surged into the trench darkness.
The woman moved with him, one hand braced against the console. Her shoulder struck his. He caught her by the waist before she fell.
She stiffened under his hand.
"Let go," she said.
"When the floor stops trying to kill you."
"I can stand."
"Then stand."
He released her.
She stayed close anyway, her fingers gripping the back of his coat as the ship climbed. The contact lasted only a second before she pulled away.
Cassian noticed that too.
"You know the trench," he said. "You know the creatures. You know my ship."
"I know enough."
"That's my line."
"Find your own."
The ironclad rose past the trench shelf. The depth gauge needle trembled, then steadied. A narrow channel opened ahead, framed by black rock.
Cassian angled toward it.
The blindfolded woman caught his wrist.
Her fingers were cold around his skin.
"Not there."
Cassian stopped the helm from turning. "Why?"
"The rock is hollow."
"So?"
"Something is inside."
"Everything is inside something down here."
"That one is awake."
The ship passed close to the channel mouth. A faint golden flicker pulsed behind the rock.
Cassian saw it through the dark water.
One flash.
Then nothing.
The woman released his wrist.
"You saw that," she said.
"Saw what?"
Her face turned toward him. "Don't lie to me."
"You started it."
"That was not a lie."
"You still haven't told me your name."
The glass canopy cracked again.
One of the horrors dragged its claws across the roof. Another shape slammed into the stern. The engine screamed as Cassian pushed the throttle higher.
The woman stepped in front of him, blocking the helm.
"Turn left," she said.
"Move."
"Turn left."
"You're not giving orders on my ship."
"Then keep going straight and let the trench open your hull."
Cassian glanced at the forward instruments. The depth markers flickered. The channel ahead looked clear.
He looked back at her blindfold.
"Prove it."
"You don't have time."
"Prove it."
She lifted her free hand and pressed two fingers against the metal wall beside the helm.
The control room fell quiet except for the engine and their breathing.
Her head tilted.
"Left," she said. "Now."
Cassian turned the helm.
The ironclad swung away from the channel.
A second later, the rock ahead split open.
A pale, circular mouth unfolded from the stone, lined with layers of thin teeth. The creature had been hiding inside the trench wall, waiting for the ship to enter.
Cassian stared at it as they passed.
The woman lowered her hand. "Still think I'm lying?"
"I think you're dangerous."
"Good."
"I think you broke into my ship, stole a weapon, and knew exactly where to stand so I couldn't shoot you."
"You lost your pistol before I did."
"I let you take it."
"You let me break your lip too?"
Cassian touched the blood again. "I haven't decided."
She stepped closer. "Decide quickly."
The words landed harder than they should have.
Her body was only inches from his. The ship's engine vibration traveled through the floor into both of them. Cassian could feel the warmth of her breath near his collarbone, even through the wet fabric of his coat.
He wanted to push her back.
He wanted to know why she smelled like burning glass.
He did neither.
"Name," he said again.
Her pistol rose between them.
"Lyra Sterling."
Cassian's hand went still on the helm.
The name hit the room like another gunshot.
"You're the heretic navigator," he said.
"And you're the condemned captain."
"The cartel put a bounty on you."
"The cartel put a bounty on anyone who can find what they want."
"What do they want?"
Lyra's face changed. The faint smile disappeared.
"You don't get that answer for free."
"You're standing on my deck. That's not free enough?"
"No."
The canopy gave a sharp crack.
A black claw pressed through the fractured glass.
Lyra's pistol shifted toward the sound.
Cassian caught her wrist before she could fire. "Save the round."
"Let go."
"I need the creature close."
"That's your plan?"
"You have a better one?"
"Yes."
"Say it."
"Stop holding me."
The claw tore farther through the canopy. Water sprayed across the control room. The creature's pale lights opened outside the glass.
Cassian pulled Lyra behind the helm and locked one arm across her shoulders. Her back pressed against his chest. He felt her stiffen, then settle when the ship rolled.
"Don't touch me," she warned.
"Then don't fall."
"I wasn't going to fall."
"You were leaning."
"I was listening."
"Listen while I drive."
The claw hooked around the canopy frame.
Cassian reached for the emergency ballast lever with his free hand.
Lyra grabbed his sleeve. "Not yet."
"You said the thing was close."
"Closer."
"How close?"
Her fingers tightened against his arm. "Wait."
The creature pulled.
The canopy groaned. Cracks raced across the glass above their heads.
Cassian's shoulder pressed against Lyra's. Her breathing stayed controlled, but her pulse beat fast beneath the hand he had braced near her collar.
"You can feel the light," he said.
"I can feel where it hurts."
"That makes no sense."
"Neither does surviving you."
The creature pulled again.
Lyra's head snapped toward the starboard side.
"Now," she said.
Cassian yanked the ballast lever.
The ironclad dropped like a stone.
The claw tore through the canopy frame, missing Cassian's head by inches. Lyra fired into the joint. The creature recoiled. The ship plunged beneath it and shot into the deep channel below.
Cassian held the helm steady with one hand and Lyra with the other.
"You could've warned me," he said.
"You would've argued."
"I always argue."
"Exactly."
The engine roared louder.
The ironclad broke through the lower current and entered a wide black cavern. Its lamps swept across walls covered in old metal wreckage. Ships. Dozens of them. Some were cartel vessels. Some were older than the dock itself.
Cassian slowed.
Lyra's pistol touched his side again.
"Don't stop," she said.
"You know this place?"
"No."
"Then why are you afraid of it?"
"I'm not afraid."
"Your hand says otherwise."
Her grip tightened on his coat. "Your engine is too loud."
"The monsters followed us."
"Not the monsters."
Something moved at the far end of the cavern.
Not a creature.
A light.
A single gold pulse behind the wreckage.
Lyra drew in a sharp breath.
Cassian felt the sound against his neck.
"What is that?" he asked.
She lifted the pistol until the muzzle rested beneath his jaw.
"Turn the ship around."
Cassian didn't move.
"You heard me," Lyra said.
"You just saved my life."
"And now I'm telling you to turn around."
"Why?"
"Because if you go farther, the thing in this cavern will wake up."
The gold pulse came again.
The engine shuddered.
The wrecked ships around them began to move.
Cassian looked at the pistol under his throat, then at Lyra's covered eyes.
"You said you needed my ship," he said.
"I need it to leave."
"You said the cartel wanted you dead."
"They do."
"You said you knew enough to keep us alive."
"I do."
"Then tell me the truth."
Lyra stepped closer until the muzzle pressed firmly beneath his jaw. Her wet sleeve brushed his hand. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"The truth is, Captain, I didn't come aboard to escape the deep. I came aboard because you are the only man alive who can open—"
The gold light pulsed a third time.
Every dead wreck in the cavern turned toward them.
Lyra's finger tightened against the trigger, and she said, "Now choose, Cassian. Do you turn this ship around, or do I—"