The Steel Shark

Chapter 51

Laila grimaced when the escape trunk light lit up on the bridge. One of her crew had deserted. Or two. Only rats deserted a sinking ship. Wasn’t that the metaphor?

Most of the crew were at their posts, repairing damage. The Roc’s last torpedo had been close, and systems were malfunctioning. Nothing they couldn’t manage. The submarine was built for combat.

She glanced at Ambra. Ambra had taken over the helmsman seat since the original helmsman, Fatin, was busy with a fire extinguisher in the corner. White gas drifted around the room, and Laila coughed.

“It’s out.” Fatin spun, searching for flames. But the bridge was calm.

“Check the rest of the ship,” Laila ordered. Fire was one of the biggest dangers on a submarine. Fire and torpedoes.

“I will.” Carrying the extinguisher, Fatin left at a run.

Ambra’s hands flew over the controls, trying to stabilize the craft. Ambra had stayed true. She had expected Ambra to desert her first of all, but Ambra hadn’t.

“Damage report from the torpedo room.” Laila didn’t care about the rest of the sub. Only the weapons mattered.

“Minor.” Samira spoke from the torpedo room. She, too, was coughing. “Bruises down here, a minor electrical problem. I think it won’t affect launch.”

“Ready next torpedoes.” Laila would fire off as many torpedoes as she could.

“Readying.” Samira sounded calm.

Laila wished Meri hadn’t killed Rasha. Rasha had been the only member of the crew with experience aiming and firing torpedoes. She’d had valuable skills. With her death, the practice run sinking the tanker had become useless. Laila should have had more of the crew train so that it wouldn’t have been a waste of time.

And lives.

“I recommend we dive,” Ambra called. “We can fire at depth, and it will be harder for the Roc’s weapons to reach us the deeper we go.”

“No.” Laila had to see the yacht sink. She needed to see the prince die.

“Ready to fire!” Samira called.

Laila took a deep breath. Abandoning her mother. Faking her own death. Bullying and cajoling the women into their new roles. Sinking the Narwhal. Killing Rasha. Each act had led to this moment.

She could shoot and dive. The Siren could evade the Roc’s weapons and escape in the depths of the sea. The sub and the women could disappear. They could live out their lives in safety, growing old and fat and happy.

Perhaps the prince would be chastened enough to desist from his plan. Perhaps their knowledge of what he intended would be enough to prevent him no matter what. If she stopped now, she might have accomplished much.

But the prince would live.

He would find another princess and elevate her to queen.

And when he had a bad day, as he surely would, he would beat her to death as he had done with Laila’s sister. As he had almost done with Laila herself.

He would never face the consequences of his actions.

He would win.

“Fire!” she ordered.