And Cort. The sailor who'd discovered her secret before she could come fully to us. Who'd threatened to expose her, to drag her back to the life she'd escaped. Who'd cornered her and let his hands wander where they had no right to be. Who'd made her afraid on what should have been her journey to freedom.
Every word she'd spoken was seared into my memory. Every tremor in her voice, every flash of old fear in her eyes. I'd catalogued it all, saved it, let it fuel the fire burning in my chest.
Tonight, Cort would pay for every single moment. The ship appeared above us, a dark shadow against the star-scattered surface. We circled it once, twice, reading the patterns of movement on deck. A skeleton night crew—three men on watch, the rest asleep below. Easy.
We surfaced in silence, water streaming from our scales as we gripped the hull. The transformation came easily—tails splitting into legs, gills sealing shut, our bodies adapting to the air. We'd done this countless times over the centuries, boarding ships in the dead of night, taking what we wanted.
Tonight, we wanted blood.
Kaelan dealt with the watch. I didn't see exactly what he did—just heard three soft thuds as bodies hit the deck, unconscious but alive. They weren't our targets. They were simply obstacles, and my pack leader removed them with cold efficiency.
"The crew quarters are below," Kaelan murmured, falling into step beside me. His bare feet were as silent as mine on the worn planks, centuries of hunting having honed us both into perfect predators. "Find him."
I didn't need to be told twice.
The ship creaked around us as I descended into its depths, my bare feet silent on the worn wood. I could smell them—the unwashed bodies of sailors, the stale sweat and cheap alcohol.But beneath it all, I caught a scent I recognized from Lily's memories. From the fear that had clung to her skin when she first came to us.
Cort.
I found him in a small cabin near the bow, snoring in a hammock that swayed with the ship's gentle rocking. He looked so ordinary. So human. Thinning hair, weathered face, calloused hands that had dared to touch what was mine.
For a moment, I simply watched him sleep. Memorized the peace on his face—the last peace he would ever know.
Then I moved.
My hand closed around his throat before his eyes even opened. I dragged him from the hammock, my claws pricking the soft flesh of his neck as I slammed him against the wall. His eyes went wide—wide with terror as he took in my face, my scarred features, my teeth bared in a savage grin.
"Scream," I whispered, letting my breath wash hot over his face, "and I'll rip out your tongue before you finish the sound."
He didn't scream. Smart, for a dead man. I hauled him through the ship's corridors, ignoring his struggles, his whimpered pleas. Kaelan fell into step behind us, a silent shadow, his dark eyes gleaming with anticipation. We found what we needed in the cargo hold—a space large enough for our purposes, far enough from the sleeping crew that no one would hear.
I threw Cort to the floor and watched him scramble backward until his back hit a stack of crates. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Just him, and the two monsters he'd made the mistake of crossing.
"Please," he gasped, his voice cracking, hands raised in useless supplication. "I don't—I don't know what you want?—"
"Yes, you do." I crouched in front of him, letting him see the full horror of what I was. My scales caught the dim light, myclaws gleamed, and my eyes—I knew what my eyes looked like. Like death itself, come to collect a debt. "You know exactly why we're here."
"The girl." His face went pale, then gray. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cool night air. "The omega. I didn't—I never?—"
"Don't." The word came out as a snarl, my lips peeling back from teeth that were far too sharp to be human. "Don't lie to me. I can smell the guilt on you."
Kaelan circled behind him, slow and deliberate, cutting off any hope of escape. His footsteps were measured, patient—the steady approach of inevitable death. "Do you know what she is to us?" His voice was calm, controlled—somehow more terrifying than my rage. "Do you understand what you touched?"
Cort's eyes darted between us, wild with fear. "I didn't know—I swear I didn't know she was yours?—"
"She was always ours." I grabbed his face, my claws dimpling the soft flesh of his cheeks, forcing him to look at me. "Before we ever met her, before she ever fell into our waters, she was ours. And you dared to put your hands on her. You dared to frighten her. To threaten her."
"I'm sorry—" Tears were streaming down his face now, snot bubbling from his nose. Pathetic.
"You will be." I released his face and straightened, rolling my shoulders as I prepared for the work ahead. "We have all night. And I intend to use every moment of it."
I started with his hands. I took my time, savoring each moment. First, I gripped his right hand, spreading his fingers wide despite his struggles. He tried to pull away, but my strength was inhuman—he might as well have been fighting the tide.
"These hands," I said, almost conversationally, examining them like a craftsman inspecting flawed materials. "These hands touched her without her permission."
I took his smallest finger and bent it backward. Slowly. Letting him feel the strain on the joint, the building pressure, the inevitable?—
Snap.
