Chapter 32, Sarah

  Damp morning dew lingers on the deck and clings to my skin, adding another layer of suffocation to the grime.

  Fingers trembling, I pick at a blood bloated boot lace. As soon as I take it off the swelling in my sprained ankle is going to expand, and that’s when the real ache will set it. But I’ll have to clean the stab wound in my foot eventually.

  Harken lays beside me, severely concussed. He groans, his head lolling back, chest heaving.

  “You have to lay on your side, Hark,” I say, tipping his head forward as he spews bile.

  Harken coughs, choking on a ragged inhale then another before his breathing slows, his eyelids drooping shut.

  “Stay awake,” I say, nudging his shoulder gently. “Harken, open your eyes.”

  Harken’s eyes slowly open, his gaze distant and unfocused. I squeeze a few drops of fresh water from a wet towel between his lips and pray he swallows. He’s been like this for hours, drifting in and out of consciousness. I press two fingers against his stubbled neck. His pulse is still too fast, but at least it’s strong.

  A heaviness settles in my chest. Harken’s a decent man, and it’s rough to see him barely hanging on. I wish there was more I could do.

  Adler bounds down the stairs from the forecastle, her perfectly straight black hair floating behind her. “Belay the line before that yard snaps for good.” She sings. And her voice really does sound like music…in a creepy, frightening way.

  I suppose it makes sense for Roberts to split us up. Half of Tobias crew remaining on The Serpents Cradle, his former flagship and her newest acquisition, and the other half here on The Hellcat under tight supervision.

  Except for Adler. Roberts asked her to sail the final stretch to Thieves Sanctum. We’re not even underway yet and she’s already put herself in charge. She did fight for our side from the start, and it’s obvious there’s some level of trust between her and Roberts, but it still feels wrong.

  A ray of sunlight pierces the fog and I tilt my head back, closing my eyes as I soak it in. But knowing Roberts is silently punishing me for disobeying her command steals what little peace it might have brought me.

  Harken makes a gurgling sound and my eyes blink open. But just as I reach for him, Adler appears.

  “You shouldn’t leave him on his back, he could choke,” she says, in her melodic voice.

  I gently push Harken onto his side and brush a lock of hair from his eyes, frustration burning in my cheeks. Of course I know that, he tries to roll over every ten seconds, Adler.

  “Sit down and hold still.” Gery’s deep voice rises above my thoughts. “On the count of three. One—”

  “Wait— Ah!” Joanne bellows as Gery forces her dislocated shoulder back into position. “You said ‘on three’!”

  Gery notices me, then Harken, her smirk dissolving into a frown. “Stop being such a baby,” she tosses over her shoulder as she walks towards us.

  “How is he?” Gery says, taking a knee beside Harken.

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  I just look at Gery and shrug. I’ve seen soldiers survive worse, but only time will tell if he’s going to pull through.

  Roberts is walking in our direction, the wrap on her leg wound bunching up her trousers as she limps on it. She’s not wearing a shirt, just her chest binding and the bandage on her shoulder. She gives Gery a small nod as she passes, but doesn’t even glance at me.

  A flash of heat singes my neck, and a knot tightens in my stomach. I didn’t cause this fight, and I didn’t do anything to make it worse. Hell, if I hadn’t joined in, the death toll would have been higher. If she would just let me explain…

  “Go,” Gery says. “I’ll stay with him.”

  I hesitate then, “Keep him—”

  “On his side, I know.” Gery waves me away.

  I stand quickly, pain shooting through my ankle. I grit my teeth and suck in a breath, then force myself forward. Each step feels like walking on broken glass.

  “I gave you a direct order,” Roberts says without stopping or turning to face me. There’s no anger in her voice, which somehow feels worse. But at least she’s acknowledging me.

  “We succeeded,” I mutter.

  Roberts doesn’t answer. Instead she maintains her brisk, off-kilter stride, glancing up at the splintered mainsail yard.

  I should have told her that I saw Tobias grab me in the premonition. The lie I’ve been telling myself is that I didn’t really understand what I saw. So how could I have warned her? But the truth is, I was trying to protect her. And I don’t regret it.

  My mind flashes back to the moment time stood still. Tobias with a gun to my head, and Roberts with another aimed at his. That look in her eyes before she pulled the trigger…anger, disbelief, desperation. If there was anything she could have done to put herself on the other end of the barrel she would have done it.

  Of course any good soldier, good hero would. But that’s not what it was. The way she looked at me was tragic. Like missing that shot would kill her, too.

  And I don’t know what to do with that.

  Roberts continues up the stairs to the quarterdeck where Quill stands at the helm, her sleeves are rolled up but her tattoos are barely visible. She’s covered in blood from the chin down, like she was dipped in it, only now it’s begun to dry and flake off in clumps.

  Even her fingers are dark and scaled, wrapped around the wheel like they’ve been glued there, because they might as well be.

  Roberts nods respectfully to her and that’s when I notice the tear rolling down her cheek.

  At Quill's feet, sits Luke, holding his brother Sam in his arms. Sam’s freckled face has turned grey, his stomach distended. Luke’s knuckles are white where he grasps his brother’s arms. Sam’s gaze is distant, his breaths labored.

  Sam had been kicked in the ribs, then stepped on and held down by a man four times his size until his eyes practically bulged out of his head.

  Luke lost all sense of self preservation and threw himself at the boulder of a man like he had a death wish. But I couldn’t let that happen.

  I’ve heard it said that losing a twin is a pain worse than death. He has every right to resent me for intervening.

  Roberts turns to Quill. “What did Sonya say?” she asks.

  Quill's lips press together as she casts her eyes down, shaking her head, “no”.

  Roberts winces as she crouches beside Luke, resting a hand on his shoulder.

  Luke looks at Roberts with blood shot eyes, his lower lip quivering, then looks back at his brother.

  Sam’s body jerks once and his chest contracts like he’s going to cough, but instead a gurgling sound rumbles in his throat, a trickle of blood spilling from his lips.

  Luke’s breaths come hard and fast, his exhales clipped and wheezing.

  Roberts leans in cupping Sam’s face in both her hands, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

  “Everything is going to be alright, Sam.” she says, quietly. “We’ll see you on the other side, alright?” She squeezes his hand. “You’re a good man Sam Wheaton, you’ve done good.”

  I watch the light leave Sam’s eyes, feel the sudden hollowness settle in my chest. At least he won’t be in pain anymore. At least he died in his brother’s arms, with his captain as witness. I look at Roberts, as she turns her attention to Luke, comforting him as his hoarse sobs rip through him.

  And for the first time, I see her not as Captain Roberts, not as Hellcat, not as Darlene the force of nature…just her. A woman exhausted, bloody, and quietly breaking for her crew. She’s fragile and fierce at once, and I can’t look away.