Black Tide

Chapter Sixteen: Fireworks Show

The moon hung high over the Pacific, its silver light dancing on the waves as they lapped against the rocky California coastline. Sophie LaRue’s yacht, The Serpent’s Grace, was a floating fortress of decadence and paranoia. Anchored a mile offshore, the sleek black vessel bristled with automated turrets, drone patrols, and electronic countermeasures designed to repel even the most determined attackers.

But Sophie wasn’t prepared for Kaine Maze.

Kaine stood on the cliff’s edge, the cool ocean breeze tugging at his armor’s crimson-lined edges. Pred’s voice broke the serene quiet, as smug as ever.

“Well, there she is, Kaine. Your girl Viper’s floating fortress of stupidity. Must be nice, sitting in a billion-dollar bunker while everyone else gets torched.”

Kaine smirked, scanning the yacht through his HUD. “Let’s make this interesting. I don’t feel like boarding her toy boat tonight.”

“Good call,” Pred said. “Because you’ve got a lot of options for dramatic overkill.”

Kaine knelt, placing his hand on a cluster of jagged rocks at his feet. He closed his eyes, visualizing every detail of what he needed. The rocks shimmered, glowing faintly before twisting and morphing. They melted into themselves, reshaping into something lethal: a sleek, razor-edged drone with a triangular body and long, angular wings.

The drone hummed to life, its black metal glinting in the moonlight. Its nose housed a missile—compact but devastating, lined with circuits and faint red veins of Kaine’s design. He stepped back, admiring his work.

“Swarm Strike Hellfire Missile,” Pred announced. “You’re an artist.”

“I know,” Kaine said. “Let’s send it.”

The drone launched silently, its thrusters propelling it across the water like a ghost. Kaine tapped into its camera feed, watching through its eyes as it weaved past the yacht’s defenses. Automated turrets swiveled in confusion, their targeting systems scrambled by Pred’s interference.

Sophie LaRue lounged on the deck, her platinum-blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. She sipped champagne from a crystal flute, her emerald-green eyes scanning the horizon. Around her, armed guards patrolled, their expressions grim.

“Progress report,” Sophie snapped, her French accent sharp.

One of her technicians scrambled to respond. “Still no messages from your-”

The technician never finished his sentence. The drone struck.

The missile hit Sophie directly, like a bolt from the heavens, and The Serpent’s Grace erupted in a ball of fire and twisted metal. The explosion lit up the night, a brilliant flash that tore through the vessel turning it into a flaming wreck. The force knocked flaming, dismembered guards into the water.

Kaine watched the c*****e from the cliff, arms crossed and a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “Now that’s how you sink a ship.”

“Not gonna lie,” Pred said, “I’m kind of proud of us. That was poetry.”

“Confirmed kill?”

A pause, then: “No life signs. No, survivors. If she coulddeep throat a missile and walk away, we have bigger problems.”

Kaine laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Right. One more snake down.”

The glow of the flames reflected in his armor as he turned back toward the shadows. The tide was rising, and he had one last target to deal with.