The cannons lining the Leviathan's sides began to hum, a low, building growl that vibrated through the storm.
"Brace!" Reya snapped, grabbing the seat in front of her. Weapons came up instinctively. Soldiers braced against the seats, fingers curling tighter.
We all expected the jet to explode any second now.
But the shots never came.
The cannons shifted, tilting up. Their mouths opened wider with a mechanical groan, and with a sudden, jarring blast, something else tore free.
Jets.
Small, vicious, shaped like sharks, if sharks had been made from black steel and spite. They ripped through the storm, each one trailing a heavy, coiled cable tipped with a wicked harpoon.
The pilot cursed, hammering the controls, but it didn't matter.
The first harpoon punched through the hull, tearing metal like it was nothing. A second embedded itself a heartbeat later. Then a third.
The jet lurched, jerking hard as the cables snapped tight.
We weren't flying anymore.
We were being reeled in.
