Kayla Hawks stood in the cargo hold with her manifest open, counting crew for a crossing that would either clear her debts or sink everything she'd built. Six names on the roster. Six people she trusted because they'd proven themselves when it mattered. But three days before departure, she was learning what those six had been running from when they signed on. The first problem walked into her office at dawn. Her navigator had deserted from a faction patrol boat two years back. The second showed up drunk at noon, admitting he'd been drinking since he heard which route they were taking. The third knocked after sunset and told her about the warrant, the real name, and the reason for changing it. Kayla listened to each one without interrupting. She asked each the same question: could they do their job when it mattered? All three said yes. She believed two of them. By morning, she'd have to decide if two out of six was enough to make it past the prehistoric pirate ship docked at the harbor's edge, the one with the saber-tooth skull flying above its stone jaw, the last thing anyone saw before the contested waters began.