CHAPTER 59: [59] NO SAFE HARBOR

Raven pressed herself against the weathered stone of a warehouse wall, her breathing shallow as she watched the last of the Black Serpent pirates disappear around the corner. The chaos in the merchant quarter had created the perfect cover—every available hand was either helping with disaster relief or maintaining crowd control around Jack’s spectacular failure of heroism.

Now or never.

She slipped from shadow to shadow, her bare feet silent against the cobblestones as she navigated the maze of back alleys leading to the harbor. The distinctive red and white of her hair remained hidden beneath a stolen dock worker’s cap she’d liberated from an abandoned cart. Her route took her past shuttered shops and empty storage yards, the normal bustle of commerce abandoned in favor of gawking at the destruction in the square.

The acrid smell of smoke and dust gradually gave way to the familiar tang of salt air and fish. Raven’s cat-like eyes adjusted to the dimmer light between buildings as she approached the waterfront, her mind already calculating the distance to the Crimson Sparrow’s berth and the best approach to avoid detection.

She rounded the final corner and stopped dead.

Gideon stood at the mouth of the pier like a mountain given human form, his massive frame blocking the only clear path to where the Sparrow waited. His left arm hung in a makeshift sling fashioned from torn sail cloth, the broken wrist Pierre had given him during their fight swollen and discolored. But his right hand rested comfortably on the pommel of his cavalry saber, and his dark eyes quartered the waterfront, dismantling the shadows piece by piece.

Three other Black Serpent pirates flanked him at strategic points along the dock, their green bandanas bright against the weathered wood. They weren’t searching frantically or calling out orders—they simply waited, confident in their ability to control this choke point.

Raven’s jaw clenched. They weren’t searching. They weren’t shouting. They were just... waiting. Like spiders. Moreau hadn’t sent a search party; she’d set a trap.

Gideon’s head turned, his gaze locking onto her position despite her attempt at concealment. The big man’s weathered face remained impassive, but she caught the slight tightening around his eyes that meant business.

"The Captain wants to speak with you, girl."

His voice carried easily across the distance between them, calm and professional. Not threatening, exactly, but carrying the weight of absolute certainty that his orders would be followed. Raven had heard that tone before from Navy officers and crime bosses—people who’d never learned the word ’no’ because they’d never needed to.

"Tell your Captain I’m washing my hair tonight," Raven called back, already calculating angles and escape routes.

Gideon took a single step forward, his movement deliberate and unhurried. "I’d rather not chase you around these docks, but I will if you make it necessary."

The other pirates shifted. A step here, a turned shoulder there. The gaps in her escape route silently vanished. It wasn’t aggression; it was geometry. A cage of bodies snapping shut. Raven’s eyes darted between them, noting their spacing and the way they moved—experienced fighters who knew how to work as a team.

She feinted left toward a stack of crated cargo, then spun right as Gideon moved to intercept. His broken wrist slowed him just enough for her to slip past his reaching hand, but she had to dodge around a coil of thick rope that left her momentarily off-balance.

Raven vaulted a barrier of fishing nets, the rough hemp digging into her palms. She landed, spun, and shoved off a wooden post, feeling splinters snag her skin as she used it to pivot. Behind her, Gideon’s heavy boots didn’t pound; they thudded, each step a promise.

The dock stretched ahead—a nightmare of tangled nets, cargo crates like canyon walls, and coils of rope waiting to snatch an ankle. Fifty yards to the Sparrow. A hundred ways to die before she got there.

"You’re only making this harder on yourself," Gideon called from behind her, his breathing barely labored despite the chase. "Captain’s not unreasonable. She just wants to talk."

Raven ducked under a low-hanging cargo net and emerged into a clearer section of the dock. The Sparrow was close now—maybe fifty yards—but Gideon and his men had herded her toward the outer edge of the pier. One wrong step and she’d be swimming in harbor water that probably contained more diseases than a plague ship’s bilge.

She risked a glance back. Gideon was gaining. The others weren’t chasing; they were flanking, moving in parallel to her down adjacent rows of cargo. They weren’t trying to catch her. They were herding her to the end of the pier, to a dead end.

I need a distraction. Something big enough to—

BOOM!

The thunderous roar of a cannon split the air, echoing off the warehouse walls and sending seabirds shrieking into the sky. Every pirate on the dock froze, their heads snapping toward the harbor as they searched for the source of the signal.

"Naval patrol!" one of them shouted, pointing toward the horizon where nothing but empty sea stretched to the skyline.

Gideon’s attention shifted for just a moment, his soldier’s instincts compelling him to assess this new potential threat. His dark eyes scanned the water, looking for the white sails that would mean trouble for every pirate in Orellia.

That moment was all Raven needed.

She sprinted the last twenty yards to the pier’s edge and dove, her body cutting through the air in a clean arc before plunging into the filthy harbor water. The shock was absolute—a slap of icy, foul-tasting cold that stole her breath and clogged her nose with the taste of salt and rot, but she forced herself to swim hard toward the Sparrow’s hull, her strokes strong despite the weight of her waterlogged clothes.

Behind her, she heard Gideon’s frustrated curse and the sound of boots running along the dock as he tried to track her movement through the water.