Shiro pulled in a long breath, held it, and let it out slow.

"Alright. Time to get to work."

"What?" Jason asked.

Shiro didn’t answer.

He gave the cuffs one last tug, just to be sure.

’Yeah. Definitely stuck.’

"That’s not gonna work, genius. You’re just hurting yourself," said some useless guy next to him. A name Shiro hadn’t bothered learning.

He sighed. "Fine. Plan B."

He settled back, legs crossed, jaw tight. One deep breath before rolling his shoulder forward, hard, and a sickening pop cracked through the dark room.

"What the hell was that?" someone muttered.

With his shoulder dislocated, his arm hung loose enough to swing in front of him, Shiro pulled the blindfold down around his neck, and noticed the room was dark and filled with countless useless demigods.

"Dude—"

He tried to slip free, but it was still too tight. So he took one more breath and started bending each one back until it gave with a quiet snap. ’One. Two.’

"Is he—is he doing what I think he’s doing?" One muttered as he was about to throw up.

’Three. Four.’

’And five easy, and five more to go.’

It probably should’ve hurt. Would’ve, if this body hadn’t already been dragged through hell and back about a dozen times. Him and pain went way back. Practically best friends at this point.

Once the cuff slipped off his right hand. He went to work on the left.

"Okay, that is deeply unsettling," Jason said.

The legs were easier—they’d been dumb enough to use rope. A few twists, a snap of his ankle, and he was loose. He stood up, rolled the shoulder back into something resembling normal, and bounced lightly on the balls of his feet.

’Free at last.’

"What’s happening?" a voice asked from the dark.

"Free us too. Please," Jason said.

"I will. Once I deal with every bastard upstairs." He rolled his wrist, feeling the blood rush back into his fingers. "I can’t protect you and save my daughters at the same time."

"What are you planning?" Jason asked as he forced himself to his feet, voice dripping with concern.

"Simple. Kill them all. Take the ship. Get you all back to safety." He kicked at the air, punched twice—loosening up, getting the blood moving, making sure everything still worked the way it was supposed to. "You know, the normal stuff."

"No—you can’t kill them," Jason snapped, moving between him and the door.

He reached over and removed Jason’s blindfold. His eyes glowed in the dark—and Jason fell back.

"Yeah, you’re right. I won’t just kill them." His voice dropped. "I’ll erase them."

"You can’t." Jason’s tone shifted—desperate now, fear threading through every word. "They’re young. Misguided. They only went down this path because the gods won’t acknowledge them. Won’t even look at them. You don’t get to punish someone for being abandoned."

He stood over him. "We all make our choices. And every choice has consequences." His voice didn’t rise. "They laid their hands on my daughters. They made them cry."

"You get in my way—" The ship shook under the pressure of his foot. "—I will kill you. And not even Hera could protect you."

"So sit here. And wait," he muttered.

And the room went quiet. Nobody moved, frozen in fear.

He walked to the door, pressed his ear against it, and listened. Two sets of footsteps. Close. Bored.

’Perfect.’

"Help! Help!" Shiro screamed, slamming his fist against the door like his life depended on it.

And it worked, because a moment later—footsteps. Heavy, and annoyed.

The door swung open. Two men filled the frame. "What’s all this noise, you damn—"

Without giving them the chance to finish their last word.

He plunged both daggers cleanly through their throats. They fell to the ground, gasping like fish dragged out of water. With a flick of his wrist, the blood spattered beside Jason.

The dark quiet room erupted. The blindfolded demigods couldn’t see what had happened, but they could hear it—the wet, gurgling sound of someone choking on their own blood. They scrambled. Pulled at their cuffs. Voices breaking over each other in the dark.

Jason pressed himself against the others, shielding them with his body. His eyes locked on the two men dying on the floor, then dragged themselves up to Shiro.

"You didn’t—" The words barely made it out.

He crouched in front of him. Slow. Deliberate. Until their eyes were level. Until Jason had nowhere else to look.

"They are all here because of you. You failed them as leader. And now you’re telling me how to do my job."

He held Jason’s gaze for a breath longer. Then stood, stepped over the bodies, and walked out without looking back.

The ship was bigger than he thought. They’d placed all the prisoners on the bottom floor—which explained the cold.

He moved room to room. Quiet. Methodical. Checking every door like a man crossing names off a list.

Then he found them.

A room at the end of the corridor. He opened the door, and there in the corner—inside a cage—were the twins.

’Found you.’

At the same time, noise erupted from somewhere above. Shouting. Metal clashing. Footsteps scrambling.

’Oh. They managed to set themselves free.’

He didn’t mind. They were a good distraction.

His gaze went back to the cage. He reached for the lock—

Something shifted in the air behind him. He turned, but too late. A massive hand closed around his entire face and hoisted him off the ground like he weighed nothing.

The brute’s thick fingers crushed into his cheeks, his jaw, mashing his face into a shape it was never meant to hold. His looks were taking a hit they didn’t deserve.

’There goes the handsome face.’

But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink—well, he couldn’t. Hard to blink when someone’s palm was doing it for you.

"How did you break free?" The voice vibrated through the hand and straight into his skull.

"Mmf—?" Completely unbothered.

The fingers tightened. "What did you just say?"

He grabbed the man’s wrist and clamped down on it. Slowly. Like tightening a vice. The bearded man’s knuckles went white. Then his fingers loosened.

Then his knees buckled, hitting the floor with a sound so heavy it shook the room.

Shiro looked down at him the way you’d look at something stuck to your shoe.

"I said—that’s all you got?"

His fist connected with the man’s face. The man’s head snapped sideways. He hit him again. And again. Not frantically. Not wildly. Each one placed. Each one a statement. He had warned the man. He tested him.

The man swung—desperate, sloppy, everything technique had abandoned. Shiro caught the fist mid-air, wrapped both hands around the arm, and bent it the wrong way. The snap was loud enough to overtake the twins’ cries.

He dropped the body and went to the twins.

Their cries stopped the moment he picked them up. His gaze finally softened. He brought them close to his chest and held them for a moment.

’I’m sorry.’

He tucked them both into one arm and scanned the room, looking for his weapons. He could still feel them near, like a pulse calling out to him. His eyes found the man’s desk drawer. When he opened it, he found his artifacts. But that wasn’t all. Sitting alongside them were two shards. One red. One blue.

’Consider it a service fee.’

He grabbed the broken man by the ankle and dragged him up the stairs. The body thudded against every step on the way up.

He kicked the door open. No one noticed.

The deck was a mess. Jason and his crew were holding the other demigods off. Blades met blades. Fists met faces. But it wasn’t a fight. It was Jason trying to keep everyone alive. Bodies lay scattered across the deck—hurt but breathing. And Jason himself was locked in with the scar-lipped kid.

So, to get their attention, he hurled the bearded man’s body into the center of the chaos like a conversation starter.

The fighting stuttered. Heads turned. Eyes landed on their captain—broken, bent wrong, not moving.

Silence spread like a stain.

Jason moved fast, positioning himself between Shiro and the rest, blade raised, chest heaving.

Then he turned toward the scar-lipped kid. "Take the other ship and go. Now!" he barked over his shoulder at the enemy demigods. Then he fixed his eyes on Shiro.

"That’s enough." His voice was shaking, but his feet weren’t. "We won. It’s over. You don’t need to keep going. Let them go."

He sent a projectile slash toward Jason. He blocked it—barely—but the force drove his boots across the wooden floor, skidding, scraping, slamming him into the railing at the edge of the ship. His knees buckled. The blade stayed up but his arms were shaking.

Shiro tilted his head. Looked at the blade—still pointed at him, trembling with every heavy breath Jason took. Then past it. Straight into Jason’s eyes.

"Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?" His expression turned cold. "You damn vermin."

Jason’s legs gave out. He hit the deck, gasping. "Dude, what is your issue? They’re all our cousins. You already killed their captain. Just—let them be."

Shiro’s gaze drifted toward the bearded man’s body. He raised his blade and sent a crescent slash across the deck—cutting the body clean in half.

"Now he’s dead."