“I think it’s better if we talk from a distance,” I say, peeking out again. “And maybe with Orion present? Where is he?”

“You got him in quite a bit of trouble last time,” Izra says. “He’s not going to go easy on you again.”

“You’d be surprised. I can be very convincing. Just let me—” I cut off with a yelp as a shot whizzes right past my ear.

I’m scared shitless by the close call, my breath coming in short bursts, but this is the opportunity I was looking for. I jump to my feet and run for the kitchen as Izra reloads. It seems the pirates were in the middle of making dinner when we hit them, and the kitchen is an absolute mess. Cutting boards and half-prepared ingredients are strewn across the floor, along with dangerously sharp-looking knives. A pot of thick broth bubbles on the stove.

I almost reach for one of the knives, but stop at a striking mental image of Izra stabbing me to death with my own weapon. Instead, I grab the pot of broth by both handles and heave it toward the door. Steaming liquid splashes all over Izra the moment she steps inside. She recoils with a hiss. I back away while she’s distracted, retreating to the other side of the island counter and trying to find something else useful.

“Running and hiding isn’t much of a plan,” Izra says, shaking soup off herself and glowering across the room at me.

She’s right, of course. My actual plan of finding Orion is seeming more impossible by the second. At this point, I guess the best thing I can hope for is distracting Izra until Lyre pulls off her job. But I can’t keep this up for long, especially not when I’m trapped in this kitchen. And now I’m starting to realize I made a critical error: This room has a single exit, and Izra is standing right in front of it.

Shit. I need a distraction. Thinking fast, I raise one hand and extend my middle finger.

“Running and hiding seems to be working pretty well for you, deserter,” I say, and tap my finger to my heart in a crude mockery of a Titan salute.

Izra’s face contorts in rage. She raises her gun and fires off a shot—wild and wide, as I hoped for. I dive forward and slide across the soup-coated floor, right beside her, out the doorway.

I scramble to my feet, slipping and sliding, and head for the hallway. If I can make it out, I can buy myself more time. Just a little more time and then—

There’s a plink as Izra’s weapon releases another shot. A hiss of air. Pain sears me as it spears through the flesh of my shoulder. The sharp tip protrudes through me, just below my left collarbone.