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Draven's pov
She didn’t scream when I stitched her up.

Didn’t flinch either, even when I had to pour whiskey straight into the wound. Her jaw clenched tight enough to crack a molar, sweat beading down her temple, eyes locked on mine like she was daring me to look away. I didn’t.

“You’re not bulletproof, Eira,” I muttered, dabbing the blood off her side.

“And you’re not gentle,” she bit back.

I didn’t smile. Couldn’t afford to. Not after what she just pulled. Storming a ghost ship alone, dragging her sister’s corpse back with a gun wound tearing through her flesh. Snow was dead,Eira made sure of that. But that kind of reckoning leaves its mark.

“You're lucky she missed your lung.”

“Wasn't luck,” she said through gritted teeth. “I angled left.”

I shook my head and tied off the last suture.

She had bled too much. Her hands were shaking, though she wouldn’t admit it, and her skin was losing color fast. I pressed a cold compress to her head and guided her to lie down, even as she tried to resist.

“Draven,”

“You’re done for tonight,” I said, voice hard. “That’s an order.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came. Exhaustion finally overtook her pride, and her eyes fluttered shut. I waited until her breathing evened out, then brushed a strand of dark hair from her face.

“I’ll finish what you started,” I whispered.

The hallway outside was dim and hot, thick with the scent of gunpowder and burned flesh. Smoke still curled from the remains of the raid. My boots crushed glass and blood as I moved past what used to be a throne room,now a charred ruin with Snow’s lifeless body sprawled beneath a collapsed chandelier.

Some of her soldiers had tried to run. Some begged. I didn’t have room for mercy.

The girls were gathered in the back,what was once a cargo hold now lined with bedrolls and emergency blankets. A few of them flinched as I entered, their fear still thick in the air like static before a storm. I slowed my pace, made myself smaller, softer.

“Just me,” I said quietly. “You're safe now.”

One of the girls, no older than twelve, held a damp cloth to another’s split lip. The older one,maybe sixteen,tried to sit up when she saw me, but I raised a hand to stop her.

“No need to get up. I just want to check in.”

They looked battered. Some of them had broken fingers, bruises along their ribs, lashes on their backs from ropes or worse. But they were alive. And that mattered.

“How many total?” I asked the medic stationed nearby,one of ours.

“Twenty-seven,” she replied. “Three critical. One needs surgery, but the rest are stable. Scared out of their minds, but alive.”

I nodded slowly. “Any IDs yet? Families?”

“We’re compiling what we can. Most were trafficked through four different ports. Some have no memory of where they’re from.”

“Keep trying,” I said. “I want names. I want homes.”

The medic’s eyes softened. “You got it, Commander.”

As I moved to leave, a small hand caught my sleeve.

“Is she gonna be okay?”

I turned. It was the youngest one. Big brown eyes, swollen lip, bare feet.

“She?” I echoed.

“The woman with the red coat. The one who shot the bad lady.”

Eira.

I crouched down to her level, not smiling but not cold either.

“She’s resting,” I said. “She’s strong.”

“She looked… sad.”

I blinked.

“She was,” I admitted.

The girl nodded, as if that explained everything. Then she stepped back and let go of my arm. Brave little thing. Already trying to protect others.

I stood and walked out into the open deck, staring at the burning remains of the empire Snow had built. It would take weeks to sort through the evidence, to follow the money, to clean up what was left.

But this part? This mattered.

They were breathing. They were free. And Snow was gone.

I leaned on the rail, glancing back toward the room where Eira slept.

She’d wanted justice for a long time. Maybe even vengeance. But as I watched the sun rise over the smoke-drenched sea, I wondered if peace was still possible for someone like her. For someone like me.

Footsteps approached. One of my men,Damir, rifle slung over his back, blood on his boots.

“We found Antonio,” he said.

My eyes narrowed.

“And?”

“He was hiding in the lower galley. Puking his guts out. Said he’d never signed up for this. One of Snow’s top smugglers. Coward.”

I nodded once. “Let him go.”

Damir blinked. “Let him,Sir?”

“He’ll run straight to whatever’s left of her loyalists. Let him. I want them to know what happened here. I want them to see what’s coming. He’s a messenger now.”

“Understood.”

He left, and I leaned back against the railing, feeling the heat settle into my bones.

One by one, their empire was crumbling. Eira lit the fire, and I’d carry the torch.

This wasn’t revenge anymore.

It was retribution.

And it had only just begun.

Moments later, River came in, the door slamming behind him harder than necessary. My head snapped up from where i sat beside Eira, still watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. The girl had finally passed out after the painkillers kicked in, her wound stitched and wrapped, her breathing steady but shallow. I hadn’t left her side since.

But River’s face, his face told a different story.

He was pale. Not the kind of pale that came from exertion or fear of blood. No, this was the kind of pale that spoke of dread. Real, bone-deep, gut-twisting dread. His chest heaved, and his hands trembled, the knuckles scraped raw as if he’d punched a wall or clawed his way through something worse.

I stood immediately. “What is it?” i demanded, voice hard.

River's voice cracked. “It’s Snow.”

I blinked. Then, like the idiot i wished i wasn’t, i let out a dry laugh. “Snow’s dead, River. You were there. Eira put a bullet between her eyes. We burned the damn body ourselves. Then the grenade finished it up. It’s done.”

But River didn’t smile. Didn’t agree.

Instead, a nervous chuckle bubbled up from his throat, manic and terrified. “No,” he whispered, eyes darting to the walls like they had ears. “It wasn’t her. That wasn’t the real Snow.”
I honestly haven't seen river this scared hell.
“What the hell are you talking about?” my voice dropped, suddenly dangerous.

River looked me dead in the eye. “It was a copy. One of her doubles...the one we’ve been tracking. She swapped out during the fight with Eira. She never intended to kill Eira. She knew she couldn’t. So she let the copy die and escape suspicion. The real Snow… she’s still out there.”

I felt the chill crawl up his spine like a thousand ice-tipped fingers.

“No,” i growled. “That’s not possible. We followed the trail, matched the energy, the signature...”

“She planned it that way!” River shouted. “Draven, don’t you get it? We’ve been chasing a ghost this whole damn time. She’s been five steps ahead since the beginning!”

I took a step back, then another. My jaw clenched. “Eira…” i muttered, eyes snapping to her sleeping form. “She was in that fight. You’re saying she fought a puppet?”

“She fought a test run towards the end, the beginning part was honestly snow but the rest wasn't.” River’s voice was bitter. “Snow got to the ship first, just like she planned. We walked into a trap. And she let us think we won. She’s still watching, Draven. She’s still playing the board.”

The fury that erupted in my chest was volcanic. I turned, slamming a fist against the wall hard enough to crack the wooden beam. Dust rained from the ceiling. Eira stirred slightly, but didn't wake.

“Damn it!” he roared. “Damn it all to hell!”

The room pulsed with a sudden silence. Even River didn’t speak.

I ran both hands down his face, pacing. “This changes everything,” i muttered. “She’s alive. She knows we’re alive. And now,now she’ll retaliate.”

River nodded. “She’s not going to stop. She wanted Eira alive. For a reason. We don’t know what it is yet, but she let her live on purpose.”

I stopped pacing. My eyes were wild. “We can’t stay here.”

“We won’t make it far,” River said. “Not with the girls this shaken.”

I looked to the hallway where the girls were still huddled, traumatized but alive.

“No,” i muttered, voice suddenly low. “Then we reinforce. We triple the guards. Nobody gets in without my permission.” i met River’s eyes again. “And we make it loud. I want word to spread. Snow’s puppet is dead,but the real monster’s still hiding. She wants to play shadows? Fine. Let’s draw her out.”

River hesitated. “You sure that’s wise?”

“No,” I said, grabbing his coat and checking the pistol at his hip. “But I’ve never fought fair. And I’m not starting now.”

I crossed the room in three strides and stood over Eira. Reaching out, i brushed a hand over her bandaged arm,gentle, reverent.

“I swear, I’ll protect you,” i whispered. “No matter what that witch throws next.”

Then, turning back to River, I growled, “Prepare the team. This war’s just getting started.”