Eiden stood near the jagged edge of the open cargo bay doors, the storm raging outside like a living thing. The wind whipped his bloody, tattered shirt against his skin, stinging the raw burns on his hand, but he hardly felt it. Below him, fifty feet down, the black ocean churned, a cauldron of whitecaps and freezing spray, hungry and waiting.
He breathed heavily, his chest hitching with every inhale. The adrenaline that had fueled his "Devil" state was fading, leaving behind the crushing, leaden weight of his injuries. His ribs felt like a cage of broken glass; his vision blurred at the edges.
He looked down at the spot where Kane had been thrown.
Eiden let out a long, shuddering breath. It was over. He had won. Against the odds, against the pain, he had protected her. He had kept his promise.
He turned slowly, a tired, genuine smile touching his lips for the first time in weeks. He looked for Emily. He wanted to tell her they were safe. He wanted to tell her that the monster was down, that the nightmare was finished.
"Emily," he started, his voice rough but warm. "We need to—"
CRACK.
The sound wasn't loud over the roaring of the storm. It was a sharp, dry pop, like a green branch snapping in a winter frost.
Eiden jerked forward violently. A sudden, white-hot line of agony exploded in his back, right between his shoulder blades. It felt like being punched by a sledgehammer.
He stumbled, his legs giving way, catching himself on a heavy wooden crate to keep from falling face-first onto the deck.
His mind reeled, trying to process the sensory input. A bullet?
He couldn't comprehend it. The Bear Claw Clan didn't use guns; they viewed them as weak. They fought with iron, chain, and bone. Was it a sniper? Had Sasha fired from the bridge? Had the Syndicate boarded?
He looked down at Kane, who was still lying on the steel deck, his body broken and twisted. Blood bubbled from the giant's lips, running down his chin. But he wasn't grimacing in pain.
He was laughing.
It was a wet, gurgling, horrible sound, bubbling up from a crushed chest. Kane wasn't looking at Eiden. He was looking past him, his eyes filled with a twisted, dark delight.
Eiden turned around, fighting the gravity that wanted to pull him down.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. A massive bolt of lightning flashed, illuminating the cargo hold in a stark, blue-white glare that froze everything in a single, horrific tableau.
Emily stood ten feet away.
She wasn't cowering in fear. She wasn't crying in relief.
She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, her posture perfect, her weight balanced. In her hand, held steady with a two-handed combat grip, was the black pistol Akuma had given her.
Smoke curled lazily from the barrel, drifting up to join the storm.
Her face was not the face of the girl he knew. It wasn't the girl who ate pie on the train with grease on her chin. It wasn't the girl who hesitated in the locker room, her hand shaking.
It was the face of Akuma Cronus. Cold. Beautiful. Dead.
"Emily?" Eiden whispered, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. "Why...?"
Emily didn't blink. Her eyes were voids, absorbing the light. There was no conflict in them anymore. The "crack in the ice" had frozen over, harder than before.
"You trust way too soon, Eiden," she said softly. Her voice wasn't sad. It was disappointed, like a teacher correcting a slow student. "You thought you could save me. You thought you were the hero of this story. But you can't save someone who doesn't want to be found."
Eiden took a step toward her, his hand reaching out, trembling. "He lied to you... the dagger... I saw it..."
"The dagger is a trophy," Emily interrupted, her voice hardening into steel. "My father keeps trophies of his victories. And so will I."
She adjusted her aim.
"Checkmate."
CRACK.
The second bullet hit him above the chest, close to his shoulder.
The force of it lifted Eiden off his feet. He flew backward, over the edge of the open cargo bay.
For a split second, he hung in the air, suspended between the ship and the sea, weightless.
In that final moment, he saw everything.
He saw Hazel scream, her hands flying to her mouth, her stoic mask shattered.
He saw Harry fall to his knees, sobbing.
He saw Margot frozen in horror; her eyes wide.
And he saw Emily, lowering the gun, watching him fall with the indifference of a statue watching a leaf drop.
Then, the dark swallowed him.
Eiden Killian hit the freezing, churning water and vanished beneath the waves.
Silence returned to the cargo hold, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the howl of the wind outside.
Kane, still lying on the floor, laughed harder. It was a hacking, coughing sound that sprayed blood onto the deck.
"I told him," Kane wheezed, grinning at the ceiling with broken teeth. "I told him the Princess had a bite. Good shot, girl. Vorian will be pleased. The Wolf is—"
BANG.
Kane's head had a bullet hole right in the middle. The laughter cut off instantly.
Emily stood over him, the smoking gun pointed at the center of his forehead.
"I hate that laugh of yours," she whispered.
She looked at the dead Bear with disgusted eyes. It wasn't the look of a warrior; it was the look of someone stepping on a cockroach. "You touched me. You hurt me. Did you really think I'd let you live?"
She holstered the gun with a smooth, practiced motion. She didn't look sick. She didn't look remorseful. She looked... clean. Purified.
The heavy blast doors to the engine room hissed open.
Sasha and Luna walked in, flanked by four armed guards. They moved with military precision, sweeping the room with their weapon lights. They surveyed the scene. The dead Bears. The open bay doors. The terrified Pack huddled in the corner.
Sasha walked up to Emily. She didn't hug her. She didn't ask if she was okay. She saluted.
"Status, Ma'am?"
Emily pulled a radio from her pocket—the one she had used to signal the trap. She pressed the button.
"Father," she said. Her voice was steady, clear, and strong. "It is done. The Wolf is down. The Bear is dead."
"Excellent," Akuma's voice crackled back through the static, warm with pride. "Bring the ship home, my daughter. Your throne is waiting."
Emily turned to the corner of the room.
Harry, Hazel, and Margot were huddled together, shaking violently. They looked at Emily as if she were a monster worse than Kane, worse than the assassin. They had seen everything. They knew what she was. They knew she had murdered the boy who saved them.
Sasha raised her submachine gun, leveling it at the group. "Directives for the witnesses, Ma'am?"
Emily looked at them.
They were Eiden's family. They were the Pack.
"Do we liquidate?" Sasha asked casually, her finger on the trigger.
Emily walked over to them. The sound of her heels on the deck was the only sound in the world. She loomed over Harry, who flinched as if she were about to strike him.
She reached out and, with a gentle, terrifying touch, adjusted his crooked glasses.
"No," Emily said.
She stepped back, her silhouette framed by the storm raging outside the bay doors. The wind whipped her hair around her face, but she stood immovable. A queen on her chessboard.
"They are useful," Emily said coldly. "And they are smart. Waste is a sin."
She looked at the Pack, her eyes flashing with a terrifying threat.
"Eiden is gone. He abandoned you. He was weak. He died because he was soft. But I am not."
She leaned in close to Hazel, invading her space.
"If you want to live... if you want to finish school... if you want your families to remain safe... you work for me now."
She straightened up, turning her back on them, dismissing them as if they were servants.
"Do exactly what I tell you to do," Emily commanded as she walked toward the exit, flanked by her guards. "Or you can join the Wolf in the ocean."
She walked out, her head held high, leaving the broken Pack alone in the bloodstained hold.
The Cold Princess had won.
And the war was over?
[End of Volume 3]