The first drop of rain hit the teak deck like a bullet, a heavy, singular thud that signaled the end of the calm. Then the sky tore open.
The storm didn't build; it crashed. The Leviathan, a massive fortress of steel and luxury, lurched violently as a massive swell hit the hull broadside. Inside the observation lounge, champagne glasses slid off tables, shattering against the marble floor. The crystal chandelier swayed dangerously, chiming a frantic warning.
Thunder cracked, deafeningly loud, vibrating through the reinforced glass walls like a physical blow. The lightning turned the night sky into a strobe light of purple and white.
"It's starting," Hazel said, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of a velvet sofa. She wasn't talking about the weather. Her eyes were locked on the exits.
The heavy, airtight doors at both ends of the lounge hissed and locked automatically, the electronic bolts slamming home with a final thud.
The warm, ambient lighting flickered and died, plunging them into darkness for a heartbeat before the spinning red emergency strobes kicked in, bathing the room in a bloody, pulsing glow.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound was distinct over the roar of the rain—the rhythmic, synchronized strike of tactical boots on the metal deck outside.
"They're not waiting for open water," Eiden said, drawing his pistol. He checked the magazine. Two bullets. It was a pathetic defense against what was coming. He holstered it and pulled Charlotte's combat knife, the black blade disappearing against his dark coat. "They're hitting us now. While we're disoriented."
"Who?" Harry squeaked, clutching his bag of electronics to his chest like a shield. "Who is hitting us?"
"Everyone," Emily whispered, stepping closer to the glass. She was looking through the rain-streaked door, her face pale in the red light.
Standing in the rain, indifferent to the gale, were Sasha and Luna. Her best friends. Her bridesmaids-to-be. The girls she had shared secrets and clothes with.
They were dressed in full tactical gear—black body armor, helmets with comms, and night-vision goggles resting on their foreheads.
They held submachine guns with practiced ease.
Luna raised a megaphone to her lips. Her voice was distorted by the wind and the electronics, robbing it of any humanity.
"Miss Cronus. Step away from the target. Step away from the Wolf. We have orders to secure you."
"Secure me?" Emily shouted back, her voice breaking, tears mixing with the condensation on the glass. "Luna! It's me! Open the door! What are you doing?!"
"Orders are absolute, Emily," Sasha's voice came through the speaker, cold, professional, and completely devoid of friendship. "Secure the asset. Terminate the threat. Open fire."
The glass wall of the lounge, designed to withstand hurricane-force winds, could not withstand concentrated automatic fire.
It shattered.
Thousands of shards rained down like diamonds as bullets tore through the room, shredding the velvet furniture and punching holes in the walls.
"DOWN!" Eiden roared.
He tackled Emily, covering her with his body as the sofa disintegrated under fire, stuffing flying out like snow.
"Move! To the bar!" Eiden yelled at the Pack. "Stay low! Crawl!"
They scrambled across the floor, glass cutting their hands and knees, diving behind the heavy marble bar counter just as a second wave of bullets chewed up the floor where they had been standing.
"We're trapped!" Harry cried, pressing his hands over his ears. "We're going to die on a boat! I hate boats!"
"Focus!" Hazel snapped, pulling Harry down. She pulled out a small compact mirror and angled it carefully to see over the bar without exposing her head. "Twelve hostiles. Two entry points. They're moving in a pincer formation. Standard breach and clear. They'll flank us in thirty seconds."
"We need an exit," Eiden said, wincing as he shifted his ribs. The pain was a dull roar in the background of his adrenaline.
"The service lift," Margot whispered. She was pressed flat against the floor, her eyes squeezed shut, but she was pointing a shaking finger at the back wall. "I... I heard the stewards talking earlier. There's a dumbwaiter behind the bar. It goes down to the galley."
"It's too small for people," Harry said, looking at the narrow metal door.
"Not for people," Eiden said, his eyes locking onto Harry's bag. "For a bomb."
The gunfire stopped. The silence was worse. The heavy boots were entering the lounge, crunching on the sea of broken glass.
"Wolf!" Sasha called out, her voice echoing in the ruined room. "Come out. Make it easy. Don't make us hurt the others."
"Harry," Eiden whispered, grabbing the boy's shoulder. "Can you overload that radio? The waterproof one?"
Harry looked at the device in Eiden's hand. His eyes widened behind his crooked glasses. "The battery... it's a high-density lithium cell. If I short the regulator... it'll create a thermal runaway. It won't shatter the ship, but it'll be a flashbang."
"Do it. Now."
Harry grabbed the radio. His hands, usually clumsy and nervous, were steady now with purpose. He popped the back casing, twisted two wires together, and jammed a silver fork from the bar into the casing to bridge the connection. The device started to hiss and smoke.
"Fire in the hole!" Harry yelled, his voice cracking, and threw the radio over the bar.
BANG-FLASH!
A blinding white light, brighter than the lightning outside, filled the room, accompanied by a deafening POP that sucked the air out of the lounge.
"EYES! CONTACT FRONT!" Luna screamed, blinded.
"NOW!" Eiden roared.
The team moved as one, a desperate, improvised unit.
Eiden vaulted the bar. He didn't have a machine gun, but he had momentum and rage. He landed on the first guard, a Shadow in black armor. Eiden didn't punch; he used the knife, jamming it into the gap in the armor at the shoulder, severing the nerve. The man dropped his weapon, screaming.
Emily was right beside him. She had grabbed a bottle of expensive vodka from the shelf. She smashed it over Sasha's helmeted head. The glass shattered, and the alcohol blinded her friend, seeping into the visor.
"Sorry, Sasha," Emily hissed, and kicked her square in the chest plate, sending her flying back out onto the rain-slicked deck.
"Left flank!" Hazel shouted, spotting a guard aiming at Eiden's exposed back.
Before the guard could fire, a heavy silver serving tray slammed into his face with a metallic CLANG.
Margot stood there, panting, holding the dented tray like a shield. "I... I helped!"
"Nice throw!" Eiden yelled. He grabbed the fallen guard's rifle, trying to bring it up, but the biometric lock flashed red. Useless. He reversed his grip and used it as a heavy club, swinging the stock into another attacker's helmet, cracking the visor.
"The door!" Emily shouted, pointing to the forward bulkhead. "The bridge door is open! It's the only way down!"
They ran. Eiden took point, clearing the path with brutal efficiency. Emily covered the rear with a pistol she'd managed to wrestle from a stunned guard, firing warning shots to keep heads down.
They burst out onto the forward deck. The storm hit them like a physical wall. The wind was howling, the ship pitching violently in the swells. Rain lashed at their faces, stinging like needles.
"They're tracking us!" Hazel yelled over the storm, pointing up. "They have thermal cameras on the mast! They can see us through the rain!"
"Harry!" Eiden shouted, grabbing the boy to keep him from sliding across the wet deck. "Kill the eyes!"
Harry spotted a junction box near the lifeboats, sparking in the rain. "Cover me!"
He ran to the box, completely exposed. Bullets pinged off the metal railing around him, sparking in the dark.
Eiden stood in the open, waving his arms to draw fire. "Hey! Over here!"
Emily fired three shots at the upper deck, forcing the shooters to duck.
Harry ripped the panel open. He didn't have time to hack it; he grabbed the main bundle of cables and ripped them out with his bare hands, screaming as the current shocked him.
Sparks showered him. The cameras on the mast powered down, their red eyes fading. The floodlights died.
The ship plunged into absolute darkness.
"Go! Go! Go!" Eiden ordered.
They scrambled down a maintenance ladder, slipping on the wet metal, dropping into the bowels of the ship. They slid down chutes, clambered over pipes, moving deeper and deeper away from the kill zone.
They landed in the engine room corridor. It was loud, hot, and smelled of burning oil and ozone. The roar of the massive engines drowned out the storm outside.
They leaned against the walls, gasping for air, sliding down to the metal grating floor.
Harry was shaking, his hands blackened by soot and minor electrical burns. "I... I did it. I killed the power to the sensors."
"You blinded them, Harry," Eiden said, clapping him on the shoulder, leaving a bloody handprint. "You saved us."
Margot was holding a heavy wrench she'd picked up on the way down. Her eyes were wide. "I hit a guy. With a tray. Does that count?"
"It counts," Hazel said, adjusting her glasses, a rare, fierce smile on her face. "Asset confirmed. Effective combat utility."
Emily slid down the wall to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. She looked at her hands. They were trembling. She had fought her friends. She had hurt them. She had seen the look in Sasha's eyes—not recognition, but target acquisition.
"They really tried to kill us," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the engines. "Sasha... she didn't even hesitate. We grew up together. She taught me how to braid my hair."
Eiden knelt beside her. "You, okay?"
Emily looked up. She looked at Harry, rubbing his burnt fingers. She looked at Hazel, scanning the corridor for threats, calculating angles. She looked at Margot, gripping her wrench like Excalibur.
They were terrified. They were students who should have been worrying about exams. But they had fought for her. They had bled for her.
"I'm fine," Emily said, her voice hardening, the steel returning to her spine.
She stood up. She looked at the Pack.
"Thank you," she said. "I... I trust you."
Hazel adjusted her glasses. "Trust is a variable. But survival is a constant. We're not safe yet. We're trapped in a metal box in the middle of the ocean."
"No," Eiden agreed, looking down the corridor toward the heavy blast doors of the main engine room. "We're in the engine room. That means we control the power. And the steering."
He looked at Emily, a dangerous glint in his eye.
"We're hijacking this ship."
Emily smirked. It was a weak, tired smirk, but it was real.
"My father is going to be so mad," she said. "He hates it when people touch his things."
"Let him be mad," Eiden said, checking his knife. "Let's go steal a boat."