The air inside the submarine smelled of ozone, expensive leather, and old secrets. It was a stark contrast to the burning wreckage of the fortress we had left behind. Toby was asleep on a narrow cot in the corner of the small cabin, his small chest rising and falling in a rhythmic peace that I hadn't felt in years.
I stood by the heavy pressure door, my hand resting on the hilt of the stolen knife in my belt. My body was a map of bruises, but my mind was sharper than it had ever been.
The door hissed open. The woman with the katana the one Maricha called the Raven stepped in. She had traded her tactical vest for a simple black silk robe, but the way she moved still suggested a coiled spring ready to snap.
"He’s awake," she said, her voice like velvet over gravel.
"Silas?" I pushed past
