“I’m not the traitor, Ana,” he says through gritted teeth. “Harding-Pencroft got our parents killed. HP could’ve used Nemo’s tech a hundred times to save the world. Instead they kept it locked up. They shut us out of our inheritance.”

I glance over at Gem, still lying facedown on the deck. His fingers are twitching, but there’s no way he’ll be battle-ready anytime soon. At least no Land Institute upperclassmen are running onto the deck to help Dev.

It’s just me and my brother. Like old times. Except completely different.

“The Nautilus isn’t our inheritance,” I say. “The Nautilus belongs to herself.”

“Herself?” Dev scoffs. “Come on, Ana. It’s a machine made by Prince Dakkar. It belongs to us!”

He lunges, trying for a full-body tackle. I dance out of his path, though my “dance” is more of a clumsy stumble. My chest wound throbs. The inside of my drysuit is lacquered with warm, sticky blood.

“I thought about telling you,” Dev continues, as if we’re having a casual conversation, “but you weren’t ready. You didn’t know about alt-tech. You didn’t understand what HP had done to our family. They still have you fooled. It’s time to wake up.”

I scream and charge. It’s not my smartest move. I feint a punch, try to knee him in the groin, but he’s expecting that. He blocks, then tosses me aside like a practice dummy. I land hard on my butt. Pain flares up my spine.

“Give it up,” Dev snaps. “Don’t be stupid.”

Stupid little girl.

Behind me, my fingers close around textured metal. One of Gem’s pistols.

“I’ll admit, I underestimated you,” Dev says. “That giant octopus…” He shakes his head. “You’ll have to explain how you pulled that off. But you don’t belong at HP any more than I do. We’re going to board the Nautilus together, and you’re going to surrender command to me. I will take what’s rightfully mine.”

Somehow, I get to my feet.

Dev frowns at the gun in my hand. “Come on, Ana, you had your chance to kill me. You couldn’t do it, remember?”

Kill him?

Suddenly, I realize why Dev has been so uninterested in Gem’s weapons. He assumes they are loaded with standard rounds. A laugh bubbles up in my throat. Dev has no intention of killing me. And he knows I won’t kill him, so the guns are useless. It would never occur to my brother to use anything less than lethal ammunition. Dev tends to play an offensive game.

My hysterical giggle seems to unsettle him.

“Ana, you’ve lost a lot of blood.” His tone is so caring, so brotherly. “Put that down—”

“You don’t get it, Dev.” I raise the gun. “What’s rightfully yours isn’t the sub. It’s your family. Your friends. And you destroyed it all.”