195

195

Eira's pov

I didn’t expect to find her here.

The place was already smoldering when I stepped through the crumbling entrance of the ghost ship. Not a ship, really. A building gutted and hollowed out, shaped like a beached vessel, perched on the outskirts of the old docks like a carcass. A ruin of one of my own missions. Burned in my name. Salt in a wound I hadn’t realized still bled.

My boots crunched on broken glass. My fingers twitched near the twin pistols strapped to my thighs. Every instinct screamed trap,but I kept walking. The ledger was tucked deep inside my coat, along with a black flash drive holding names,clients, buyers, donors, Snow’s entire empire crumbling from the inside out.

And then I heard it,heels on metal. Slow. Confident. Mocking.

A voice curled through the dark like smoke.

“Back to where it all started, sister.”

I froze.

She stepped out of the shadows like some wicked ghost wrapped in silk and steel. Her hair was curled like mine used to be. She wore my favorite jacket from when I was seventeen. The same combat boots I used to love. Her makeup was perfect, too perfect,lipstick the same shade I used when I thought I was someone.

“Snow,” I breathed.

She smiled with teeth far too white for someone so rotten. “You remembered.” Her arms opened in mockery. “Welcome back, twin. Shall we share a womb again?”

I didn’t answer. I took three slow steps forward, drew my gun, and pointed it at her heart.

“Only one of us leaves.”

She threw her head back and laughed, high and sharp. “Then make your shot count.”

I squeezed the trigger.

She ducked just in time, spinning behind a rusted beam. The bullet hit the wall, shattering what was left of a hanging light. Darkness returned, swallowing her shadow.

“You’ve gotten faster,” she called, her voice echoing. “I’m proud. Truly.”

I didn’t respond. I moved, silent as breath, weaving through the debris, gun at the ready. My heart pounded, but not from fear. No. This was clarity.

A chair flew at me from the left,I ducked, rolled, shot again. Another miss.

“I saw your little message,” she cooed. “The footage. The girls you freed. The blood trail you left behind. You think you’re better than me, Eira?”

“I don’t think it. I know it.”

Another bullet. Another dodge. This time she returned fire. It grazed my arm,burned hot. I winced but didn’t fall.

“You took everything from me,” I growled, voice shaking.

“Oh please,” she snapped. “You were a broken toy! They fixed you, and I perfected you.”

I ducked behind a fallen steel pipe. My shoulder stung. Blood soaked into the sleeve.

She kept talking. Always talking.

“They chose me, Eira. They chose me to lead after you failed. You were soft. You wanted to help. Save people. Disgusting.”

“You were supposed to be my sister,” I shouted.

She stepped into view again, gun raised, her eyes wild. “And you were supposed to die that night. I mourned you for ten minutes before I put on your boots.”

I didn’t flinch.

“You stole my name most of the times, ” I said, stepping forward. “You wore my face, my story. But you forgot one thing.”

Her head tilted. “What?”

“I survived.”

Snow’s laughter didn’t echo,it vibrated. Like some twisted lullaby meant to lull me into surrender. But I wasn’t that girl anymore.

She tilted her head. “You’re trembling.”

“No,” I said, stepping closer. “I’m calculating.”

I saw it then,the scar above her eyebrow. A flaw in perfection. A crack in the porcelain doll she’d turned herself into. For years, I hated myself for that scar, thinking it was mine. Now I realized, I never had one. She was the one bleeding.

“Still trying to rewrite history?” I asked.

She arched a brow. “History is written by the survivor.”

“So write this down,” I swung, pistol-whipped her jaw, and the impact felt like thunder in my hand. “,you’re not surviving this time.”

Snow staggered, snarled like a rabid dog, then lunged. We crashed into the crates behind her. My gun slid across the rusted floor. Her hands were at my throat,familiar, practiced. She’d done this before. In that lab.

But I was stronger now.

I grabbed her wrist, twisted it, snapped it back with a sickening pop.

She screamed, and I whispered, “This is for every girl you left in chains.”

And then I heard footsteps, my backup finally breaching the deck.

“Eira, move!” someone shouted.

I dove to the side just as a bullet caught Snow in the leg. She collapsed, clutching the bleeding limb, hissing like a cornered snake.

I stood over her, my gun back in hand, heart racing.

She blinked up at me. “Do it then. Be the monster they say you are.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not a monster. I’m the reckoning.”

And I pulled the trigger.

My next shot hit her in the leg. She screamed, falling behind a pile of crates.

I didn’t wait. I rushed forward, shoved the crates aside and dragged her out by her collar. She clawed at me, slashed my cheek with her nails. I punched her. Once. Twice. She spat blood and laughed.

“Do it,” she whispered. “Finish it. End me.”

I stared at her. Really looked. The bloodied face. My face, in a way. Twisted by greed and hatred.

“You’re not worth a bullet,” I whispered.

She blinked.

I pulled out a tiny metal box from my coat. The detonator.

“You set this fire years ago,” I said. “Now you’ll burn in it.”

Her eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t,”

“I would.”

I tossed her the detonator.

“If you have a shred of humanity left, save yourself.”

Then I walked away.

She screamed my name as I exited the burning ship, limping slightly. My vision blurred with pain and tears. My arm throbbed. My face burned. But I kept walking.

Out into the dawn.

The air tasted of ash and salt.

A van waited for me down the dock. Draven stood leaning against it, blood on his collar, gun slung over his back.

I climbed in.

He looked at me. “You did it?”

I didn’t speak.

Instead, I handed him the ledger.

He nodded and reached into the glove box, tossing me a cloth for my wound. “She’ll come for us.”

“Let her,” I muttered. “I’ll be ready.”

And as we drove away, the ghost ship behind me burst into flame,my past, my pain, my twin.