Chapter 418:
“ROOOAAARR!!!” The pirates exploded into a savage war cry.
Iron hooks soared through the air, latching onto Ronan’s ship with a heavy thud, the metal claws biting deep. Dozens of pirates climbed the lines like wild animals, fast and furious. At the same time, speedboats hit the waves, more attackers charging in from every angle.
Everything unraveled in seconds. The violence came quick. Too quick.
Ronan’s crew froze. Fear struck like lightning. Their hearts locked tight in their chests.
Their meal ticket? Miss VS? Was that—Rylie?!
Ronan understood every word these pirates said—individually. But strung together, they struck him like a bolt of lightning, freezing him in place. Slowly, he turned his head, the crack of his neck echoing in the stillness, until his eyes landed on the figure standing at the center of the deck.
“W-Who… who are you?” His voice trembled, his eyes darting frantically as the weight of the revelation threatened to shatter his grasp on reality.
Rylie approached him slowly, her steps deliberate and unhurried. Around them, the pirates moved with ruthless efficiency, cornering Ronan’s men and leaving no room for resistance.
These weren’t seasoned sea raiders—just cold, opportunistic predators chasing easy profit.
Armed to the teeth, the pirates cut down Ronan’s men with brutal precision. Behind Rylie, bodies piled up with grim finality, but she continued forward, unflinching and calm.
Overcome with fear, Ronan turned and bolted, tripping over his own feet in a desperate scramble. Deprived of his backup, his combat skills were useless. His shots came fast but erratic, easily dodged by Rylie as she closed the distance between them. Her presence was cold, implacable, amidst the chaos.
He barreled into the game room, trying to slam the door shut behind him. But a worn leather shoe caught the door before it could close. Though Rylie had discarded her disguise, she hadn’t changed her clothes. She entered the room like a shadow—silent, seamless.
Ł∆Ŧéѕ† Ç♄₳þŧëяŞ ín GalπoνεlŞ.cø₥
The door creaked shut behind her, cutting off the outside world—the gunfire, the explosions, and the pirate howls—all replaced by a suffocating silence broken only by Ronan’s ragged breathing.
The room was dim, lit only by the intermittent beams of searchlights from the pirate ship, sweeping past the window. The air was thick with the acrid smell of cigars, stale liquor, and something faintly metallic—blood, perhaps from the chaos outside, or from Ronan’s frantic stumble to safety.
“Running already?” Rylie’s voice was low, almost relaxed, but each word sliced through the silence like a blade against glass. “Scared now, Mr. Boyd?”
She plucked a playing card from the table with casual grace, flipping it between her fingers. The cold glint of the Ace of Spades caught the dim light, its sharp design menacing in her hands. Step by step, she advanced, the dull thud of her heels echoing in time with Ronan’s racing heartbeat.
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