Chapter 1 - Everyone Told Me to Run
The first thing Rafael Vescari said after I crawled beneath the burning beam to reach him was not thank you.
He caught my wrist with a hand blackened by soot, stared through the smoke at my face, and rasped, “You were right.”
Above us, something enormous cracked.
The firefighter behind me screamed my name.
“Maeve! We have to move!”
I should have listened.
Every reasonable part of me knew that.
The medical vessel Isabella had been burning for eleven minutes. Fire had already swallowed the aft service corridor. Heat rolled across the steel walls in waves, and somewhere behind three sealed bulkheads, compressed oxygen was feeding the fire like gasoline.
I had warned them about that oxygen system forty-eight hours earlier.
Nobody listened.
Now the most feared man in Port Mason was pinned beneath a collapsed timber brace six feet in front of me.
Rafael Vescari controlled two shipping terminals, four freight companies, half the nightclub licenses along the harbor, and enough unofficial business that people stopped joking when his name came up.
I knew none of that personally.
I only knew he was bleeding.
His expensive white shirt had gone gray with ash. Blood ran from somewhere above his hairline. One leg was trapped beneath a charred section of ceremonial decking that had collapsed through the service passage.
Behind me, Lieutenant Owen Price dragged an air cylinder through black water and debris.
“Maeve, the gauge is almost red!”
“I know.”
“You said you knew another exit.”
“I do.”
“Then use it.”
I looked toward the end of the passage.
A red emergency wheel sat behind a steel mesh cover.
Twenty feet away.
Twenty impossible feet.
Beyond that valve ran the main medical oxygen feed.
The same line I had told the launch supervisor not to pressurize.
The same line somebody had opened anyway.
If we left without closing it, the fire could reach the oxygen manifold.
If that happened, everyone still fighting the blaze on Deck Three might die.
Rafael followed my stare.
“What is that?”
“The reason your ship is burning.”
His eyes sharpened despite the pain.
“You can stop it?”
“I can shut the feed.”
Owen grabbed my shoulder.
“No.”
I turned.
His mask made his voice sound mechanical.
“We came for him. We found him. We leave.”
“If the line flashes—”
“Fire suppression is handling it.”
“They don't know the service manifold is still live.”
“You don't know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
Because I could hear it.
Even through sirens, fire, and steel contracting in the heat, I could hear the thin high hiss behind the wall.
Six years had passed since I last worked aboard a medical vessel.
My ears remembered anyway.
Rafael tightened his fingers around my wrist.
“Go.”
I looked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Close it.”
Owen swore.
Rafael released me.
“I’m not going anywhere under this.”
For someone trapped beneath half a deck, he sounded irritatingly calm.
“Do what you came to do.”
Another beam groaned overhead.
Owen looked at the air gauge.
Then at me.
“Thirty seconds.”
“That isn't enough.”
“Then twenty-five.”
I moved.
Not quickly.
Running on a burning steel deck is how people die.
I kept one hand against the wall, stepped over a shattered lighting fixture, ducked beneath a fallen pipe, and reached the mesh cage.
Locked.
Of course.
I looked around.
A fire ax lay beneath debris.
I pulled it free.
Behind me, Owen shouted, “Fifteen!”
I struck the lock once.
Nothing.
Again.
Metal bent.
The third strike broke it.
I threw open the cage.
The wheel was hot even through my glove.
I turned.
It resisted.
“No.”
I changed my grip.
Turned again.
For one second I was twenty-four again, standing aboard the Mercy Dawn while an engineer told me I didn't understand pressure systems because my badge said NURSE.
Then the valve moved.
Half a turn.
One.
Two.
The hiss changed pitch.
Three.
Then stopped.
The silence lasted less than a second.
Somewhere deep inside the ship, something exploded.
The floor lifted beneath me.
I hit the steel wall.
Owen shouted.
Smoke punched through the corridor.
When my vision cleared, Rafael was still conscious.
Barely.
“Maeve!”
Owen was beside him again.
Together we lifted enough of the burned beam to pull Rafael’s leg free.
I expected him to scream.
He didn't.
His jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jump.
We dragged him toward the service hatch.
The deck behind us was glowing orange.
The rescue line appeared through the smoke.
Hands reached down.
One firefighter grabbed Rafael.
Another caught my arm.
We came out through the stern maintenance platform into cold harbor air.
For several seconds, all I could do was lie on wet concrete and breathe.
Then noise returned.
Sirens.
Shouting.
Water cannons.
Men in black coats.
There had to be forty of them.
They stood beyond the fire line beside rows of dark SUVs.
The moment Rafael appeared, the entire group moved at once.
That was how I understood who he was.
Not from the suits.
Not from the cars.
From the way forty dangerous-looking men had been standing absolutely still until one injured man emerged.
Someone shouted, “Mr. Vescari!”
Rafael ignored him.
Paramedics lowered him beside me.
An oxygen mask covered half his face.
He lifted one hand.
Pointed at me.
The nearest man leaned down.
Rafael pulled off the mask.
“Her.”
His voice was rough.
“What about her?” the man asked.
Rafael looked directly at me.
“Whatever she says caused this…”
He coughed.
“…believe her.”
Then he lost consciousness.
I sat there in blue hospital scrubs soaked black at the knees, staring at the burning ship while the wealthiest and most dangerous men in Port Mason suddenly stared back at me.
Forty-eight hours earlier, nobody had cared what I knew.
May you like
Now the Mafia Boss who owned the harbor had almost died proving I was right.
And I had no idea that the valve I had just shut was connected to the worst mistake of my life.
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