The boat cut through black water.
Scarlett stood at the bow, wind tearing at her hair, salt stinging her eyes. The dress was gone. Black pants. Black jacket. The knife strapped to her thigh. Vincent's knife. Her knife now.
Dom piloted.
Mechanical arm on the wheel.
Human hand on the throttle.
Pushing the engine past safety.
Past limits.
Jules worked the radar.
Tracking.
Hunting.
"They're twenty miles ahead," he said.
"Speed?"
"Faster than us."
"Course?"
"International waters. Beyond jurisdiction. Beyond reach."
"Nothing's beyond reach."
Scarlett didn't turn.
Didn't blink.
Watched the darkness where Margaret waited.
Where Asher schemed.
Where the final ghost would be laid to rest.
Or rise again.
---
The radar beeped.
Jules stiffened.
"Contact. Port side. Three miles. Not Margaret."
"Who?"
"Multiple vessels. Small. Fast." He adjusted the screen.
Zoomed.
Enhanced.
"Kai's people. Blood Circuit enforcers."
"Here to help?"
"Here to watch." Jules looked up.
Green eyes worried.
"He's betting on the outcome. Whatever it is."
Scarlett smiled.
Cold.
Calculated.
"Then let's give him a show."
She walked to the stern.
Found the flare gun.
Loaded it.
Aimed at the sky.
Fired.
Red light.
Burning.
Visible for miles.
A declaration.
A challenge.
A target.
"What are you doing?" Dom shouted.
Over the engine.
Over the wind.
"Inviting them."
"Inviting who?"
"Everyone."
The flare died.
Darkness returned.
But not silence.
Engines in the distance.
Multiple.
Closing fast.
---
The first boat arrived in twelve minutes.
Cutter class.
Armed.
Flag of the new federal authority.
The authority Scarlett had created.
Agent Reyes stood at the bow.
Megaphone in hand.
"Ms. Vance. Stand down. This is beyond your jurisdiction."
"I have no jurisdiction," Scarlett called back.
"I have purpose."
"You're pursuing private citizens into international waters. That's piracy."
"That's justice."
"That's vengeance."
"Same thing?"
"Different laws." Reyes lowered the megaphone.
Stepped closer.
Close enough to speak.
Close enough to see the exhaustion.
The doubt.
The respect.
"Margaret Blackwood has diplomatic immunity. Negotiated last night. While you were burning the Opera House. She's untouchable."
"Nobody's untouchable."
"She is. Asher too. They have hostages. Insurance. People you'll kill if you pursue."
"Who?"
Reyes was silent.
Looked away.
Looked back.
"Rosa Voss. Elena Voss. Everyone who helped you. Everyone you love."
The words hit.
Hard.
Precise.
Calculated.
Margaret's move.
Asher's strategy.
Take what Scarlett cared about.
Make her choose.
Make her fail.
"When?" Scarlett asked.
"Six hours ago. While you were at the theater. While you were winning." Reyes reached out.
Hand on the rail.
Between them.
"Let them go, Scarlett. Live to fight another day."
"There is no other day."
"There's always—"
"No."
Scarlett's voice didn't rise.
Didn't need to.
The word carried.
Final.
Absolute.
"Margaret dies tonight. Asher dies tonight. Or I die trying. Those are the only outcomes."
Reyes studied her.
Long.
Hard.
Seeing something.
Or refusing to see.
"You're not the villain," she said finally.
"Not yet."
"But you will be. If you do this. If you kill them. If you become what they are."
Scarlett smiled.
The cold one.
The honest one.
"I was always what they are. I just chose different targets."
She turned.
Walked to Dom.
"Full speed. Ignore them."
"Scar—"
"Full speed."
He obeyed.
The engine screamed.
The boat leaped forward.
Leaving Reyes behind.
Leaving jurisdiction behind.
Leaving everything behind.
---
The second boat was Kai's.
No flag.
No identification.
Just black hull.
Black sails.
Black intent.
He stood at the rail.
Silver hair streaming.
Amber eyes amused.
Drinking champagne.
At midnight.
In a chase.
"You're predictable," he called.
"You're here," Scarlett answered.
"Here to offer odds."
"Not interested."
"Even if they're in your favor?" Kai stepped onto their deck.
Uninvited.
Unwelcome.
Expected.
"Margaret's boat is a decoy. She's not on it. Never was."
Scarlett stilled.
Calculated.
"Where?"
"Submarine. Russian made. Old but functional. Docked beneath the abandoned oil rig. Ten miles north."
"And Asher?"
"With her. Along with your hostages." Kai sipped his champagne.
Casual.
Deadly.
"Rosa's alive. For now. Elena's injured. Not critical. The others..." He shrugged.
"Collateral."
"Why tell me?"
"Because the odds just shifted." Kai set down his glass.
Serious now.
Focused.
"Margaret's making a deal. With the old powers. The ones you didn't expose. The ones who stayed hidden. She's selling them the location of your broadcast source. The real Red Ace. Vincent's basement."
"Impossible. Only we know—"
"Jules told her."
The words hung.
Heavy.
Poisonous.
Scarlett turned.
Found Jules.
Pale.
Shaking.
Denial on his lips.
"I didn't— I wouldn't—"
"Under interrogation," Kai continued.
"At the Blackwood Tower. Before you rescued him. They used drugs. Truth serums. Pain." He looked at the hacker.
Sympathy?
Mockery?
"Not his fault. Not anyone's fault. Just information. Currency. The game."
Scarlett looked at Jules.
Saw the truth.
Saw the guilt.
Saw the love he couldn't hide.
And made her choice.
"We move the servers," she said.
"Already done." Kai smiled.
"Rosa moved them. Before she was captured. To a new location. One even Jules doesn't know."
"Where?"
"That," Kai said, "is my final bet. My ultimate price." He stepped closer.
Close enough to touch.
He did.
One hand on her shoulder.
Intimate.
Possessive.
"I tell you. I save your revolution. And you spend one night with me. Not as payment. As choice. As... possibility."
Dom's mechanical arm whirred.
Angry.
Loud.
Scarlett didn't look at him.
Didn't look at Jules.
Looked only at Kai.
At the devil offering salvation.
"One night," she said.
"One night."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you find the submarine yourself. Before Margaret sells your secrets. Before your revolution dies. Before everyone you love burns." Kai's smile widened.
"Your odds aren't good. But they're yours to play."
Silence.
The boat rocked.
Engines hummed.
Three men.
Three choices.
Three versions of her future.
Scarlett reached up.
Removed Kai's hand from her shoulder.
Gently.
Firmly.
"Tell me where," she said.
"And I'll consider your price."
"After?"
"After we win."
Kai laughed.
Real.
Surprised.
Delighted.
"You drive a hard bargain."
"I drive the only bargain."
"Fine." He stepped back.
Pulled out his phone.
Sent coordinates.
"The oil rig. Platform Seven. Submarine docked beneath. Margaret's negotiating in two hours. You have until then."
"Or?"
"Or she sells your location. And the federal authorities—your authorities—descend on the real Red Ace. And everything Vincent built. Everything you built. Burns."
Scarlett turned to Dom.
"Course?"
"Platform Seven. Twenty minutes."
"Make it ten."
He pushed the throttle.
The boat screamed.
Kai's vessel fell behind.
His laughter carrying.
Always carrying.
Always betting.
Always winning.
Even when he lost.
---
The oil rig rose from the water.
Rust and shadow.
Dead industry.
Living danger.
Scarlett checked her weapons.
Knife.
Gun.
The crystal key.
The broken crown.
Jules caught her arm.
"Scar. About what Kai said. About me telling them—"
"I know."
"You don't— I never meant— I would die before—"
"I know."
She turned.
Looked at him.
Really looked.
The bruises.
The guilt.
The love.
"Margaret used what she had. You survived. That's what matters."
"I betrayed you."
"You were broken. You healed. You're here." She touched his face.
Brief.
Final.
"That's loyalty. That's enough."
Jules closed his eyes.
Leaned into her touch.
Just for a second.
Just for himself.
Then stepped back.
"Let me come. To the platform. I can hack their systems. Disable security. Help."
"No."
"Scar—"
"You're injured. Slow. Target." She turned away.
Cold.
Necessary.
"Stay with the boat. With Dom. If I'm not back in forty minutes, leave."
"Leave?"
"Leave." She walked to the rail.
Looked up at the rig.
The climb.
The fight.
The end.
"Save the servers. Save the revolution. Save yourself."
"And you?"
Scarlett smiled.
Over her shoulder.
Cold.
Calculated.
Ready.
"I save myself. I always do."
She jumped.
Caught the ladder.
Climbed.
Into the dark.
Into the war.
Into the final game.
---
The platform was silent.
Too silent.
Scarlett moved through corridors of rust and shadow.
Knife out.
Gun ready.
Every sense alert.
Margaret was here.
Asher was here.
The hostages were here.
And something else.
Something wrong.
The smell hit first.
Copper.
Sweet.
Recent.
She turned a corner.
Found the first body.
Security.
Throat cut.
Professional.
Not her work.
Not Margaret's style.
Asher's?
Or someone else?
Deeper she went.
Deeper into the trap.
Into the mystery.
Into the end.
The control room was circular.
Glass walls.
Screens showing the submarine below.
And in the center.
Margaret Blackwood.
Alone.
Unarmed.
Smiling.
"Finally," she said.
"I was beginning to think you'd never arrive."
"Where are they?"
"Who?"
"Rosa. Elena. Asher. The hostages."
"Gone." Margaret spread her hands.
Empty.
Innocent.
Deadly.
"Asher took them. Twenty minutes ago. Submarine launched. Destination unknown."
"Lie."
"Truth." Margaret stepped closer.
Close enough to strike.
She didn't.
"Your lover betrayed me. As he betrayed you. As he betrays everyone." She laughed.
Cold.
Broken.
Beautiful.
"He's not taking them to safety. He's taking them to market. New buyers. New auction. New life for his debts."
"Why tell me?"
"Because you can stop him. Because you want to stop him. Because—" Margaret's smile cracked.
Grief showing.
Rage showing.
Human showing.
"Because I loved him too. Once. Before he burned my niece. Before he burned everything."
Scarlett calculated.
Odds.
Angles.
Truths.
Lies.
"You're not here to negotiate."
"No."
"You're here to die."
"Yes." Margaret reached into her jacket.
Slow.
Obvious.
Gave Scarlett time to react.
Time to shoot.
Time to kill.
She didn't.
Margaret withdrew a photo.
Old.
Faded.
A young woman.
Red hair.
Green eyes.
Scarlett's face.
Not Scarlett.
"Claire," Margaret said.
"My daughter. My heir. My mistake." She looked up.
Tears streaming.
Real.
Useless.
"I burned her because she was going to expose us. Because she chose you. The new student. The better daughter." She laughed.
Ugly.
Broken.
"I created you, Scarlett Vance. I made the ghost who would destroy me. My final masterpiece."
Scarlett raised her gun.
Aimed.
Steady.
"Where's the submarine?"
"Gone."
"Where?"
"Everywhere. Nowhere." Margaret stepped closer.
Pressed her forehead to the gun barrel.
Smiling.
Welcoming.
"Kill me. End it. Or let me help you find him. One final choice. One final game."
Scarlett's finger tightened.
One pound of pressure.
Three ounces of metal.
Infinite endings.
She lowered the gun.
"Help me."
Margaret's smile widened.
Victorious.
Doomed.
"North. The old shipping lanes. Asher's meeting a buyer. Russian oligarch. Human merchandise. Your friends. Your family. Your revolution. All for sale."
"How fast can we get there?"
"We can't." Margaret turned to the screens.
Touched one.
Showing the submarine.
Distant.
Escaping.
"But you can. If you're willing to pay the price."
"What price?"
Margaret turned.
Looked at her.
Really looked.
"The same price I paid. The same price Claire paid." She held out her hand.
Waiting.
Offering.
"Everything."
Scarlett looked at the hand.
At the devil who made her.
At the mother who burned daughters.
At the only way forward.
She took it.
The deal was struck.
The chase continued.
And somewhere in the dark.
On a submarine.
Asher Blackwood waited.
With hostages.
With secrets.
With the final move that would end everything.
Or begin it.
Scarlett Vance ran.
Not away.
Toward.
Always toward.
The crown was broken.
The game was endless.
And she was finally ready to play.