On the pier, I have the same sense of disorientation I always get when I go ashore. My legs try to compensate for the lack of rolling and rocking. It’s disconcerting. Solid land…I’ve never trusted it. I definitely don’t after what happened to HP.

Gem’s hands hover over his holsters. “What now?”

The shack’s door flies open with a bang! I step in front of Gem to keep him from drawing his guns.

A tall, slender, dark-skinned man steps into the light. His white skinny jeans and vertically striped soccer shirt accentuate his spindly limbs, making him look like an anime character—maybe one of the pirates from One Piece. His close-cropped black hair is flecked with gray. His hands, sheathed in oven mitts, hold a steaming pan of bread that smells of butter and garlic.

My mouth starts watering.

“Ana Dakkar, yes?” He has a friendly smile. “You look just like your parents.”

I’ve been told this a million times before, but after the stress of the last few days, and what happened with Dev, the comment hits me in the gut. It takes me a second to find my voice.

“I—Yes. This is the freshman class of Harding-Pencroft. We have some bad—”

“Freshman class?” The bread pirate laughs. “What in the world!” I can’t quite place his accent until he says, “I’m Luca Barsanti.”

I switch to Italian. “Piacere.”

“Ah, parli la lingua del bell’paese!”

“Certo, sono un Delfino.”

“Ottimo! Prego, entrate tutti! Anche povero Hewett, portatelo. La mia prossima pagnotta di pane sta bruciando!”

He plunges back inside.

“Um…What just happened?” Gem asks.

“He says come on in, and bring Hewett,” I translate. “His next loaf of garlic bread is burning.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

I send the Orcas to get Dr. Hewett from the sick bay.

Moving him will be risky. I’m not sure what kind of medical facilities this secret base has, but Barsanti said to bring him. I hope their cutting-edge tech can do more than camouflage the island and bake garlic bread.

“No aggressive moves,” I tell the rest of the crew.

The Sharks look at me like, Who, us?

It hits me that I just gave an order to my classmates, and they took me seriously. Three days ago, they would have laughed or ignored me, or at the very least teased me for acting like an authority figure. A lot has changed. I’m not sure if that’s good.

I lead the way into the shack, which turns out to be nothing but a sort of foyer. The rubber welcome mat reads BLESS THIS MESS. Against the left wall is a stand-up shower. Against the right is a rack of dive masks, tanks, fins, and spearguns. A security camera peers down at us from the ceiling. At the back of the room, a tunnel has been bored straight through the volcanic rock, leading into the heart of the mountain.