Lily flinched, and I felt her shame pulse through the bond. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to?—"
"Don't," Kaelan's voice cut through her apology like a blade. "Don't apologize for being hurt. Don't apologize for having scars." His dark eyes burned with cold fury. "The only ones who should be sorry are the ones who gave them to you. And tonight, they will be."
"My voice is the strongest," I explained, drifting closer to brush my fingers through her hair. The familiar motion soothed us both. "One siren song will be enough to call them to their doom. And Riven..." I glanced at my packmate, at the savage anticipation in his scarred face. "Riven has been waiting for this. We all have."
"Decker," Lily whispered, and something dark flickered across her features. "And the captain. And Brennan, and all the others who watched and did nothing. Who made every day a nightmare."
"All of them," Riven growled. His claws flexed, already extended, catching the bioluminescent light. "Every single soul on that ship. Every beta who treated you like nothing. Every alpha who looked at you like prey. Every hand that made your work harder, every voice that called you cursed."
"The whole ship," I added softly, my voice carrying that particular resonance that made my words feel like music even when I wasn't singing. "We're going to erase it from the world,Lily. When we're done, there won't even be wreckage left to find."
She was quiet for a moment, her dark eyes searching each of our faces in turn. I could feel the complex tangle of emotions through our bond—relief and guilt and gratitude and something darker, something that might have been hunger for vengeance.
"I should feel bad about this," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "They're going to die—all of them—and I should feel... something. Horror. Guilt." Her hands curled into fists. "But I don't. I just want them gone. I want to stop seeing their faces every time I close my eyes. At the time when I was on the ship…it didn’t feel as bad…but now…"
"Then let us give you that," Thane said fiercely, pressing his forehead to hers. "Let us take those faces away forever."
I knelt before her, taking her hands in mine. Her fingers were warm, her pulse steady beneath her skin. "You survived them, little songbird. You escaped your home…and on that ship you tried to put up with them just so you could stay safe from your parents and the man who bought you. Then you found us and you became ours. Now let us do what we were born to do." I pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Let us sing them to their graves."
She nodded slowly, and I felt her acceptance settle through the bond like a weight lifting. "Be careful," she said, even though we both knew the warning was unnecessary. "Come back to me."
"Always." I leaned forward to kiss her, soft and sweet and full of promise. Riven did the same, his kiss fiercer, more possessive, leaving her breathless and flushed.
Then we were gone, sliding through the water with the speed that came naturally to our kind. The ocean embraced us, dark and vast and full of secrets. Above, somewhere in the endless miles between here and there, a ship sailed on, its crew unaware that death was rising from the depths to meet them.
We swam in silence for hours, following currents I'd memorized months ago when we'd first tracked Lily's vessel. TheWindchaserhad a route, a pattern, a predictable path through these waters. We'd learned it well in those early days of watching and waiting, and we'd kept track of it since—just in case.
Just in case we changed our minds about mercy.
"There." Riven's voice was a low growl, barely audible even to my ears. He pointed upward, and I saw it—the dark shadow of a hull cutting through the water above us, familiar in its weathered shape.
TheWindchaser. Lily's prison. The place where she'd hidden and suffered and survived.
Not for much longer. We circled beneath the ship like sharks scenting blood, taking our time, savoring the anticipation. Through the water, I could hear the muffled sounds of human activity—voices, footsteps, the creak of wood and rope. Somewhere up there, Decker was probably tormenting whoever had replaced Lily as his favorite target. The captain was probably counting coins in his quarters, indifferent to whatever cruelty festered below his deck. Brennan was probably grunting disapproval at some new worker who would never measure up to his impossible standards.
I wondered if any of them ever thought about the quiet girl with the copper hair. The one who had vanished one night and never returned. Did they assume she'd fallen overboard? Did they care?
It didn't matter. They'd have plenty of time to think about her tonight.
"Ready?" Riven asked, and his voice was tight with barely contained violence.
I smiled, letting my sharp teeth show. "Born ready."
I rose toward the surface, Riven fell back to circle below. We'd done this before—countless times, countless ships,countless crews lured to their deaths by the sound of my voice. It was what I was made for, what I'd spent centuries perfecting. The magic of a siren's call, the irresistible pull that made humans forget their fear and walk willingly into oblivion.
I'd never wanted to use it more than I did now.
My head broke the surface, silver hair streaming around me like moonlight on water. The night was dark, the moon hidden behind clouds, the only light coming from the lanterns on the ship's deck. Perfect conditions. No one would see me until it was too late.
I opened my mouth and began to sing.
The melody poured out, weaving through the night air, reaching for the ship with invisible fingers. It was an ancient song, older than human memory, the kind of tune that bypassed thought entirely and spoke directly to something primal and helpless in the human brain. I poured everything into it—seduction and promise, sweetness and longing, the irresistible suggestion that something wonderful waited just beyond the railing.
Come to me, the song whispered.Come to the water. Come and find what you've been searching for your whole empty life.
On the ship, activity stuttered to a halt. I could see them through the darkness—shapes moving toward the railing, drawn by something they couldn't name, couldn't resist, couldn't understand. Their faces were slack with wonder, their eyes glazed with enchantment. I sang louder, letting the magic build, letting it wrap around each of them like chains made of honey and desire. One by one, they climbed onto the railing. One by one, they stepped off into the waiting dark.
The first splash was music to my ears.
