The three youngsters tried to reach the main exit, but the pirates blocked their way. From the other side, Betty's mercenaries charged at them. Wild chaos broke loose: the clash of steel, pistol shots, thick gunpowder smoke. Battle cries rang out, along with the screams of prostitutes, shattering glass, and the crunch of smashed furniture.
"Both exits are blocked," said Kayin.
"What options do we have?" asked Sammy.
"Follow me," the servant ordered.
"I don't want to go back… it's a trap!" Cody cried out in fear.
"I'm afraid we don't have many choices..." Sammy replied.
The three ran up the stairs, panting, stumbling, bouncing off walls. Smoke was starting to seep in from below, and the shouts filled the air. A prostitute with tangled hair came out of a room and, seeing them run, screamed at the top of her lungs:
"There they go! They're escaping!"
Downstairs, among overturned sofas and blood-stained shards of glass, the Carioca roared:
"Catch them!"
Four armed pirates rushed after them, but before they could reach the top, the tedeschi burst through the side hallways. One fired a shot that struck the wall inches from a pirate. Another, wielding a shield, charged and knocked two of them down like rag dolls.
Meanwhile, Aunt Betty rushed to her office, confident she still had the backpack locked away. She headed straight to the safe. She opened the mirror hiding the vault, but it shattered into a thousand pieces. She wrestled with the safe's dial, her breath quick and ragged. She finally opened it and searched anxiously for the backpack… It was there. She grabbed it, opened it… and her face tensed.
"What the hell is this…?" she whispered.
It was only a novel by Eliza Haywood.
"SONS OF BITCHES!" she screamed, hurling the book to the floor.
She stormed out of her office, staff in hand, shouting:
"Catch those brats! And don't let a single damn pirate leave here alive!"
Like a fury, she began hurling orbs left and right. One struck the crystal chandelier, which crashed down, trapping several pirates beneath its shimmering chains of glass beads.
In the hallways, the Carioca's men kicked down doors, clashing with the tedeschi. The walls shook with every explosion. In one of the rooms, the kids had barricaded themselves. When the door gave way, Sammy smashed an oil lamp on the floor.
The fire roared to life. A fireball burst through the corridor, filling it with smoke. The albino tried to flank the room and saw them escaping through a window onto an adjoining balcony. He followed swiftly, but just as he was about to grab them, Sammy landed a solid punch.
"See you never, vampire!" she shouted.
The albino flipped through the air and landed squarely in a cart filled with trash and dung. The impact made the street tremble. A dog barked and fled, terrified.
The kids crossed the balcony and jumped into the next building—a grimy brothel—through the window. They ran down a corridor, blending in with half-naked prostitutes, drunken pirates, and half-dressed customers fleeing the fire that now threatened the buildings adjacent to Aunt Betty's.
The Carioca climbed a few steps, but a sudden blaze forced him to retreat. An orb flew through the air and exploded on the stairwell's frame, inches from his head.
"Next one goes between your eyes," Betty warned from the hallway, aiming her staff at him.
Taking advantage of the chaos, the kids escaped to the street, mingling with the tenants from the neighboring brothel and slipping away unnoticed by the pirates still fighting inside. But Wilbur, who had slipped out through a side door, caught a glimpse of them. He raised the alarm, which reached the Carioca, who shouted from his position:
"RETREAT!"
The pirates regrouped and fled through the back door, pursued by Betty's mercenaries. Betty stepped onto the porch and, seeing them fleeing the house, began firing orbs at them. Her staff sparked with fury.
The kids ran through the alleys when a cart blocked their way. They stopped abruptly, but Cody sighed in relief upon recognizing the driver. It was Zamudio, accompanied by his brother Clarky.
"Hurry, get in! We don't have all day!" Clarky called.
Sammy climbed in first and helped Cody and Kayin. The three of them dove into the hay. The cart rolled off with a creak of wheels and groaning wood.
"They've set fire to the city's finest quarter..." Clarky muttered.
"They could've used the tunnel, just like Prime said," Zamudio commented.
"The pirates ruined our plans," Cody replied, hidden in the hay.
Meanwhile, the pirates pushed their way toward the docks amid the confusion of passersby. Wilbur, gasping, caught up with the Carioca.
"They're heading for Tortuga Island!" the elf said, breathless.
"And how do you know that, you little vermin?" the captain growled.
"Where else would three parentless brats with a thirst for adventure go?"
Carioca clenched his teeth.
"Then change the plan. Everyone aboard the Infamous!" the captain ordered.
The pirates bolted toward the harbor and stormed aboard the ship. They ordered the moorings cut, sails hoisted, and set course. Moments later, Aunt Betty arrived with her men and a few armed courtesans. They began firing at the Infame as it sailed away at full speed.
Aunt Betty took position at the front of her troop and hurled an orb that exploded against the sails. Pirates climbed the rigging to put out the fire while others fired back. Betty had to take cover behind some crates.
When the gunfire ceased, the Infame was already pulling away from the harbor, out of range of her staff.
"Bastard…" Aunt Betty muttered. "We'll meet again…"
Hours later, under the pale light of the moon and with the sea churning beneath the Infame's hull like a restless beast, the Carioca sat at his dark wooden desk, lacquered with salt and scarred from old battles. The room smelled of salt, old leather, and tobacco. The lamp swayed with the ship's motion, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The waves pounding the hull created a threatening cadence in the silence. In front of him, Wilbur stood, drenched in sweat and nerves, holding a notebook and quill, waiting for instructions.
The Carioca took a swig of rum straight from the bottle, ran a hand through his unkempt beard, and spoke without looking at him:
"Spread this across every port. Wanted notice: a mulatto girl, skinny, blue-eyed. She's with a runaway Black servant and a skinny blond kid with more luck than brains. Every tavern, every bounty hunter, every harbor should know. They shouldn't be able to set foot on land without someone breathing down their neck."
He paused for a moment, clenching his jaw, then added in a low, sharp voice:
"And if they're found… bring them alive. Especially her."
Wilbur nodded with his head down.
"Yes, Captain. Any bounty?"
"One hundred gold coins for all three. Two hundred if they're alive. Fifty if it's just the journal and the navigation charts."
Wilbur sat at a small table beside the brass helm in the cabin and began to write, dipping the quill in ink, while the Infame creaked through the waves like cracking bones.
The Carioca looked again through the stern windows into the blackness of the ocean. His gaze was steely—not with anger, but with something even more dangerous: patience.
"They can't run forever," he muttered to himself. "Not from me."
And then the wind howled louder, as if the sea itself knew the hunt had only just begun.