She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 305

They sensed it a heartbeat too late. The moment they lifted their heads, a blade flashed.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

Three soft sounds, almost delicate, and their throats opened in unison. In the -20° air, hot blood turned instantly into a red mist that crystallized as it spread. The men clutched at their necks, eyes wide with disbelief, and collapsed without a word.

Loyce landed lightly, didn’t spare the bodies a glance, and climbed back into the vents.

A second later the rest of the crew barreled into the freezer—only to find three corpses bleeding out on the floor.

One man spotted the open vent and pointed. “She went through the duct! That line runs to the galley and the bridge! She’ll drop into the kitchen. Send people there! And block the bridge too!”

“Go! We’re catching her. She’s paying for our guys!”

They split again, half rushing for the galley, half tightening the net around the bridge.

The kitchen was slick with grease and damp heat. Flashlights cut through the shadows as men crept between counters.

Then a metal drum of scalding frying oil tipped from an overhead rack and poured down like lava, perfectly timed, perfectly aimed—drenching two men from head to shoulders. Their screams were inhuman. Skin blistered. Flesh split. They hit the floor rolling and clawing at themselves, howling.

From atop a massive industrial freezer, Loyce launched like a panther. Her knife sank into the third man’s neck, right behind the skull, and she twisted.

“Crack.”

The sound carried.

The screams, faintly echoed through the ship’s speakers, turned the rest of Gavin’s men cold. They weren’t hunting a person anymore. They were being hunted by something everywhere and nowhere—an invisible executioner. The radios filled with panic, shrieks, and reports of bodies dropping.

Another voice cut in, tense. “What if the navy is right behind us, sitting outside the fog, waiting to move in and take us down?”

“This was planned,” someone muttered. “All of it.”

The more they talked, the more the fear spread, threatening to crack their discipline.

Gavin slammed his palm on the table. “Enough. Stay calm.” His eyes were shadowed and vicious. “It’s not that bad. If there were any naval movement, I’d know first. Don’t spook yourselves. This is one woman targeting me.”

One of the men frowned. “But why? What kind of power does she have? And why are you the one she wants, Mr. Quinn? Did you do something to her?”

Gavin went silent. Because he didn’t know. He ran through every possibility—Lucian, that emergency device, a bar incident, some petty insult. But none of it explained this—none of it justified a relentless, life-or-death vendetta.

And yet here she was, on his ship, in his fog, turning his men into bodies.