Chapter 76: Salt and Oil

Chapter 76: Salt and Oil
\- SERAPHINE
The docks were a labyrinth of rusted shipping containers and thick, freezing fog that tasted like old pennies. My lungs were still burning from the sprint through the industrial fringe, but there was no time to stop. Every shadow that moved behind a stack of crates felt like a Raven closing in.
"Selene, over here!" Rowan’s voice was a low rasp, cutting through the rhythmic slop-slop of the harbor water.
He pulled me behind a stack of weathered timber. I leaned against the wood, my chest heaving. I knew Rowan had his reasons for staying in the saddle earlier instead of shifting, but now, in the cramped, grimy alleys of the docks, he looked like he was vibrating with the need to let the wolf out. His eyes were dark, scanning the mist with a predatory focus that made my skin prickle.
"Where’s the boat, Galen?" I hissed, looking at the older tracker.
"Pier 14. A trawler named The Iron Maiden," Galen muttered, wiping a smudge of engine grease off his forehead. "The captain owes me a favor from back in the day. He won't ask questions about the 'baggage' we're carrying."
He jerked his chin toward Vireya. She looked like she was about to faint. The high-heeled boots we’d stolen from the manor were long gone, replaced by a pair of oversized, mud-caked work boots Galen had scrounged. She looked less like a mistress and more like a ghost.
"I can't... I can't smell anything but fish and rot," Vireya whispered, her voice trembling. "How can you tell if they're close?"
"We don't smell them, Princess. We hear them," I said, my voice flat. "And right now, the only thing I hear is the sound of your teeth chattering. Shut it."
The masks were finally in the dirt. I didn't have the energy to play the supportive "big sister" or the graceful Luna anymore. I was tired, I was filthy, and I was about three seconds away from losing my mind.
"Movement at the end of the pier," Rowan whispered, his hand going to the small of his back where he’d tucked his sidearm.
We all froze. Through the shifting veil of fog, a silhouette emerged. It wasn't the man from the diner. This one was broader, moving with a heavy, deliberate stride.
"Varick," I breathed.
"Impossible," Galen hissed. "You hit him with the Bane. He should be coughing up his lungs in a cave somewhere."
"Kaelen must have sent a healer with the second wave," Rowan said, his jaw locked tight. "Or Varick is just too stubborn to stay down. Either way, he's here."
Varick wasn't alone. Three other Ravens stepped out of the mist behind him, their tactical gear making a faint, metallic clink with every step. They weren't hiding anymore. They knew we were cornered.
"Selene!" Varick’s voice boomed across the water, distorted by the fog. "Give it up! You're at the edge of the world. There’s nowhere left to run!"
"Go to the boat," Rowan said, his voice dropping into that terrifying, calm register he used right before things turned bloody. "Galen, get them on deck. Now."
"Rowan—" I started.
"Go, Selene! I’ll hold the pier."
I looked at him, the man who had walked into hell to pull me out. For a heartbeat, I wanted to stay. I wanted to stand beside him and fight until the last Raven was in the harbor. But I looked at Vireya and Liora. If we didn't get the mistress to the Council, everything we’d done—the escape, the Spires, the Bane—it would all be for nothing.
"Don't you dare die," I whispered, grabbing the front of his jacket and pulling him down for a hard, desperate kiss. It tasted like salt and woodsmoke.
"Not tonight," he promised.
I turned and ran. Galen grabbed Vireya by the arm, dragging her toward the rusted hull of the trawler. Liora and Betsy followed, their faces masks of pure terror. We scrambled up the narrow, slick gangplank just as the first shots rang out behind us.
The pop-pop-pop of Rowan’s sidearm was followed by the heavy, booming return fire of the Ravens' rifles.
"Start the engine!" Galen screamed, jumping into the wheelhouse.
The trawler groaned, a deep, vibrating thrum that shook my teeth. Black smoke belched from the exhaust, adding to the thick fog. I ran to the railing, my fingers gripping the cold iron until they went white.
Through the haze, I saw Rowan. He was a blur of motion, using the shipping containers for cover as he picked off the Ravens one by one. But Varick was relentless. He was closing in, his rifle leveled at Rowan’s position.
"Rowan! Jump!" I screamed.
He didn't look back. He fired one last round, then turned and sprinted toward the end of the pier. He hit the edge of the wood at a full gallop and launched himself into the air.
For a second, he seemed to hang there, a dark silhouette against the gray sky. Then, he hit the water with a massive splash.
"Get the net!" I yelled to Liora.
We hauled the heavy, barnacle-encrusted fishing net over the side. A few agonizing seconds passed, the engine roaring as the boat began to pull away from the dock. Then, a hand broke the surface.
I grabbed his wrist, my muscles screaming as I hauled him upward. Rowan scrambled over the railing, soaking wet and gasping for air, but alive.
"Did you... get them?" I panted, collapsing onto the deck beside him.
"I got two," he wheezed, shaking the water from his hair. "Varick is still on the pier. But we’re out of range."
I looked back. The docks were disappearing into the mist, the lights of the Neutral City fading to dim, orange smudges. Varick was standing at the edge of the wood, his rifle lowered. Even from here, I could feel the fury radiating off him.
But he was staying on the pier. We were on the water.
"We’re clear," Galen called out from the wheelhouse. "Next stop, the Council Hub."
I looked at Vireya. She was curled in a corner of the deck, shivering uncontrollably. Liora was wrapping her in a dry tarp, her hands shaking.
"We did it," Liora whispered, looking at me.
"Yeah," I said, leaning my head against Rowan’s wet shoulder. "We did."
The trawler cut through the choppy harbor waves, the smell of the open sea finally masking the scent of the city. I looked at my hands—they were covered in grease, salt, and Rowan’s blood from a shallow graze on his arm.
I wasn't the Luna of Silver Ridge anymore. I wasn't the "perfect" wife or the fragile victim. I was a fugitive on a stinking fish boat, heading toward a future that was probably going to be just as dangerous as the past.
But as the sun began to break through the fog, painting the water in shades of bruised purple and gold, I felt a strange, cold peace.
Kaelen could hunt us all he wanted. He could send his Ravens and his healers and his threats. But he had lost his mistress, he had lost his wife, and most importantly, he had lost his power over me.
"Selene?" Rowan asked, his hand finding mine in the dark.
"Yeah?"
"What are you thinking about?"
I looked at the horizon, where the Council’s towers were just beginning to peek through the clouds.
"I'm thinking about what I'm going to say to the Council," I said, a slow, sharp smile touching my lips. "I think it’s time the world found out what kind of 'peace' Kaelen really believes in."
Rowan squeezed my hand. "I think they're going to love it."
"I know they will," I said. "And Kaelen is going to hate it. Which makes it even better."
We sat there in the spray of the ocean, the engine humming a steady, rhythmic beat beneath us. For the first time in years, I wasn't planning for tomorrow. I was just living for the next breath.
And that was more than enough.