The Heart Pirates’ submarine was moored at Grove 42, half-hidden beneath the massive mangrove’s shadow. Bepo had just returned from a supply run, arms overflowing with discounted snack packs and a happy little hum.

Half a mile away, a plume of orange fire erupted into the sky, followed by a sound that was equal parts scream, roar, and something that sounded suspiciously like a very angry seagull.

The blonde crashed into Law like a runaway cannonball, clutching his coat with both hands, breathing like they’d just outrun the entire Marine fleet.

The “woman” clinging to him was striking—golden hair in messy waves, wide eyes, a sprinkle of freckles across a dust-smudged face. Elegant dress torn at the hem. Small hands gripping his coat like a lifeline.

Behind them, three Marine warships emerged from the horizon. And the shouting was getting louder. Much louder.