CHAPTER 60: [60] THREE VOICES ON A WET DECK

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Alyssa’s arm shot out, finger pointing toward the harbor’s surface. "There! She made it to the water!"

Pierre set down the small signal cannon, tendrils of smoke still curling from its barrel. The blank round had served its purpose perfectly—just as Alyssa predicted, every pirate within earshot was now frantically scanning the horizon for Navy ships that weren’t actually there.

"Quick thinking with the cannon," he admitted, giving credit where it was due. "Your Naval training’s proving more useful than I expected."

A faint blush spread across Alyssa’s cheeks, though her eyes remained fixed on Raven’s progress through the murky harbor. "Father always said a good officer uses every tool available. I never imagined I’d be applying those lessons to help pirates escape from other pirates."

They moved to the ship’s railing, both leaning over to track Raven’s movement. Below them stretched dark, uninviting water with an oily rainbow sheen that hinted at what the harbor contained beyond mere seawater.

"Can you see her?" Alyssa asked, anxiety tightening her voice.

Pierre squinted against the glare, searching the choppy surface. "There—about twenty yards out. She’s swimming toward the stern."

For a brief moment, Raven’s distinctive two-toned hair broke the surface before she dipped beneath again, clearly trying to remain hidden from the pirates swarming the docks. Her swimming was powerful but visibly strained—even someone as physically capable as Raven couldn’t easily navigate water while fully clothed.

"We need rope," Pierre said, already turning toward the ship’s supplies. "She’ll need help climbing the hull."

Before Pierre could finish, Alyssa was already at the stern. "I’ll lower it down. You keep watch for those pirates—if they spot us helping her, they’ll know exactly where she is."

Pierre positioned himself as a shield, his body partially blocking their activities from the dock-side view. He observed as Gideon and his men spread along the waterfront, systematically scanning the harbor.

That almost makes this worse, Pierre thought. At least common thugs are predictable.

"Got it," Alyssa whispered, feeding the rope over the rail in careful increments. "Raven! Over here!"

Raven surfaced near the ship’s hull, her breathing heavy but controlled. She grabbed the offered line and began pulling herself up, her soaked clothes making her climb awkward and strenuous. Pierre and Alyssa took hold of the rope, adding their strength to help haul her aboard.

She tumbled over the rail in a splash of harbor water and tangled limbs, landing hard on the deck with a pained grunt. The stolen cap was gone, leaving her red-and-white hair plastered against her skull like wet paint. The dockworker’s clothes hung from her frame like saturated rags, and she smelled of fish, tar, and other elements Pierre couldn’t—and frankly didn’t want to—identify.

"Welcome back," he said, extending his hand. "Enjoy your meeting with Moreau?"

Raven accepted his offered help, her grip icy and slippery yet surprisingly strong. "Oh, it was delightful. We discussed business opportunities, market expansion, and how much she’d enjoy slowly strangling me with my own intestines."

Alyssa handed her a towel from their supplies, concern evident on her face. "Are you hurt? Did they—"

"I’m fine," Raven cut in, though she accepted the towel with visible gratitude. "Moreau’s too smart for crude intimidation. She prefers psychological manipulation wrapped in polite conversation."

She began wringing water from her hair, her cat-like eyes already sweeping across the deck as if taking inventory. "We need to get out of here. Now. Every minute we stay gives her more time to tighten the noose."

Pierre felt something cold settle in his stomach that had nothing to do with the harbor breeze. "About that..."

Both women turned toward him, their expressions mirroring the unease that had crept into his voice.

"We can’t leave. Not yet."

Raven stopped mid-squeeze, water still dripping from her saturated clothing. "What do you mean we can’t leave? The ship’s seaworthy, we’ve got supplies, and half of Moreau’s crew is busy playing disaster relief. This is our chance."

Pierre’s fingers found the sea-blue stone at his throat, the smooth surface warm against his palm despite the harbor’s chill. The weight of unspoken knowledge pressed down on him like a physical thing—memories of a story he’d read in another life, of a timeline where events played out differently. Where Raven arrived at the Ember Sea one day too late, her sister’s body already cold in the nobleman’s mansion.

I can’t tell them I know what happens next. But I can’t let it happen again.

"The money," he said finally, his voice rougher than intended. "You said you need twenty-five million to free your sister. We only have six million from this deal."

Raven’s towel stopped moving against her hair. Water continued dripping from the saturated strands onto the deck, creating small dark spots on the weathered wood. Her cat-like blue eyes narrowed, studying Pierre with the same intensity she usually reserved for reading ocean currents and weather patterns.

"That’s my problem, not yours." The words came out sharp, defensive. "I told you both—we’re business partners. Once this deal’s done, we go our separate ways."

Alyssa shifted beside them, her pale green eyes moving between Pierre and Raven like she was watching a chess match where she couldn’t see all the pieces. Her posture remained straight despite her damp clothes, that ingrained naval discipline keeping her spine rigid even in civilian attire.

"But it is our problem," Alyssa said, her aristocratic accent making each word precise. "If you need more money, then this partnership isn’t really ending here, is it? You’ll have to find another way to earn the rest, which means more dangerous jobs, more risks."

Pierre caught the slight tremor in Alyssa’s voice on the last word. She was thinking about consequences, about what happened to people who took desperate chances for desperate reasons. Growing up as Captain Hardy’s daughter had given her a front-row seat to the results of such gambles.

Raven’s laugh held no humor, just bitter acknowledgment. "That’s very touching, Princess, but my problems aren’t your responsibility. You’ve got your own life to figure out."

"Don’t call me Princess." The snap in Alyssa’s voice surprised Pierre. Her hands clenched at her sides, the knuckles white against her pale skin. "I chose to leave that life behind. I chose to be here, with this crew."

This crew. Pierre noted how naturally the words came from Alyssa, how she’d claimed ownership of something she’d never really been part of before. The pampered Navy daughter was evolving into something else entirely.

Raven studied Alyssa for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Water still dripped steadily from her clothes, creating a rhythm against the deck like a countdown timer.

"Your choice," she said eventually. "But choices have prices. Are you ready to pay them?"