Page 134 of Scarlet Wars
“Target acquired,” someone barked. “Move in. Take her!”
Hands reached for the rail. A hook clanged. Two officers leaned forward, ready to board, ready to grab her, sovereign boundary be damned.
Emma’s breath hitched, and that was all it took.
I moved on pure instinct.
The cold inside me surged to life in a single violent sweep, coiling up my spine like a storm snapping awake, and before thought could catch up, my inked haze poured out of me—black and alive—racing across the river like smoke that had learned how to burn.
The air convulsed as the power hit, pressure folding in on itself, and the Coast Guard ship shuddered under the force, metal warping with a tortured groan before the hull finally gave. Lights burst in a sharp, staccato chain, glass spraying into the night like someone had thrown a handful of stars across the water. A shockwave rolled after it—deep, bone-rattling—churning the river beneath us as if the current itself recoiled.
With one flick of my hand, the whole ship had imploded, with only one cold, singular thought in my mind:no survivors.
I couldn’t risk anyone calling in another patrol on Emma. The math was lethal but simple:herover every other fucking soul. Always.
The blast had hit the river like a living pulse, waves slamming our boat sideways, spray exploding over us, turning the night into noise and motion and metal echoing on metal.
And then…nothing.
Silence stretched over the water, broken only by the hiss of settling debris and the crackle of flame along the horizon.
For a heartbeat, everything held still: the world, the current, even Emma’s breathing.
Then she exhaled, a shaky sound wrapped in sarcasm.
“Well,” she said, her tone bone-dry, “I’m surethatdidn’t alert absolutely every living thing within a fifty-mile radius.”
My pulse was still thrumming with what I’d unleashed. The haze coiled tight beneath my skin, restless, waiting for permission to strike again.
Finally, I said, “At least there will be no one left to report it.”
Emma turned slightly, only enough for me to see the flicker in her expression, fury, disbelief, and something looking a lot like gratitude.
She hadn’t even finished drawing breath for her next remark when the night split open again.
New engines roared behind us, high, fast, angry. Headlights carved wild arcs across the water, cutting through the smoke and mist left from the blast.
Not one boat.Many.
Speedboats, bearing red strobes and the maple leaf insignia glinting on their bows.
Perfect.
I’d just blown the US Coast Guard to hell, and now the Canadians were coming for us.
“Told you that wasn’t one of your more brilliant moments,” Emma muttered, the familiar sarcasm barely hiding the tremor in her voice.
“We need to get out of here,” I hissed through my teeth. “Now.”
“Really?” she shot back, her hand snapping up as her power flared invisibly across her skin. “Because I was just thinking this would be a great time to take up knitting.”
I tapped the comm in my ear—the damn thing Emma had insisted we all wear—and barked at the team behind us. “Stay back. Donotfollow us. That’s an order.”
Across the water, the second boat reacted immediately. Four silhouettes jerked in acknowledgment, their craft throttling down, slowing enough to break formation.Good.
If the Canadians boarded anyone tonight, it wouldn’t be them.
Meanwhile, our own dinghy convulsed beneath us—wood groaning, planks twisting, the whole frame shuddering like it was being wrung out from the inside. The shape rippled, warped, and then…
