I reached the deck in time to see Bastian tilt the plank over the rail. It smacked against another rail beyond, attached to the shadowy mass of an unfamiliar ship. Shouts echoed from its deck as figures raced across it in a panic, only growing louder when Morrissey jumped up to the plank and charged across. I raced after him, jostling between my equally-eager crewmates until I got an opening and leapt up onto the plank.

For a second, there was nothing below my feet but a thin strip of wood, shifting with the movement of the two ships and threatening to dump me into the black, freezing water below. Then I jumped down to the enemy deck and scanned around, trying to make sense of the growing chaos. Already many of the sailors had armed themselves to fight back, and within seconds, skirmishes had broken out across the ship’s deck.

Bastian was right.

I stared at the scene, feet stuck to the swaying wood. For once, I was wishing I’d brought a knife; I usually steered clear of weapons that could be used against me better than I could use them myself. But I usually wasn’t trying to get in the fray, either. Still, fighting individual sailors with a knife was hardly the way to make an immediate impact; the few fights I was able to track seemed to be going nowhere.

A gunshot sounded. Sunlit cobblestones flashed in my vision as an electric jolt shot through my limbs.

I shook my head. Kienna wasn’t even here. I shouldn’t be able to see her bleeding.

“Kas, look out!” Sterling called. I spun his way in time to see a knife sail over my shoulder. Something squelched behind me.

The knife wasn’t Sterling’s; it had been a characteristically sharp throw from Roxy, who gave me a disapproving look before turning to her next opponent.

Arrokas. Wake the fuck up.

I listened; the sailors were shouting to each other, but no one seemed to actually be in charge. No one was keeping track of where we all were; if I slipped away, I could get into their supplies without being noticed. The problem was, they were clustered around the stairs down so that I had little chance of getting through without some sort of fight.

Another knife sailed in front of my nose and stuck straight into the forehead of a sailor that had been approaching from my side. I cringed at the sight, turning away to see Roxy once again looking my way with irritation.

I twisted around and located Captain Morrissey as he looked away. That pretty much confirmed it; for some reason, he’d told Roxy to watch my back. Now wasn’t the time to be offended; it was the time to make the most of my resources.

I bolted for the stairs.

The ship pitched and almost sent me into a dueling pair. A gunshot cracked, one of the two crumpled, and I managed to dodge past the other—Dally, the former crow’s scout—as she spun to find a new opponent. One more gunshot, and I skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs, then scrambled down toward the shadowed belly of the ship.

The stink of old wood and mold pressed in as oppressively as the stale dark. Sounds of the skirmishes above soaked down through the ceiling, but it was all muted now, nothing more than a backdrop to the hallway and the dark rooms I was scanning quickly on either side.

What was the bigger picture? Why were we attacking?

I couldn’t quite put the puzzle together, not when Captain Morrissey was keeping pieces to himself.

It was near impossible to see into the storage room when I finally found it; I felt more than saw the large crates looming in stacks around the door as I started inside. As my eyes adjusted, I spotted one large box toward the back of the room with its lid slightly crooked, as if it had been closed in a hurry. If it was important enough to have been closed during the attack, it was important enough for me to open.

I strained to pull the wide, heavy wooden lid from the crate, sliding it back with a loud scratch before it tilted off and knocked to the floor. I cringed, glancing behind me on instinct before peering into the crate.

Eyes peered back at me.

I yelped and stumbled back, giving the man enough time to stand and whip out a pistol. A very real and very deadly pistol.

I froze. The gun’s barrel brushed my forehead. My heart dropped downward as if it could flee from the weapon, beating low and thick and forcing the air from my lungs.

The man’s eyes darted to me, to my empty hands, to the door.

He needed to shoot me; I must have realized it before he had. No one would notice one gunshot belowdecks amidst a slew of them above, and the longer he left me alive, the longer I had to yell or fight or somehow alert my crew that he was hiding down here.

A plan. Things always went better when I prepared in advance—Hashton, the bar in Tarriva. I needed a plan.

No, I needed time to make a plan. So I slowly drew in a full breath and allowed myself one shaky word. “Loud.”

The man scowled. “What’s that?”

I flicked my eyes toward the ceiling, where the muffled sounds of the battle thumped and cracked through the wood. “Gunshots are loud. Shoot me and they’ll hear it, Captain.”

He paused, looking unsure. “Move one inch, boy, and I’ll shoot you anyway,” he growled finally.

Good. He was an idiot.

Now that I had a stalemate instead of a death sentence, I took a second to think. I remembered the bar in Tarriva, when I’d held Sheriff Carter’s gun an inch from his back. By the time I’d realized he’d moved, the gun was out of my hand and my arm was twisted behind my back.

I didn’t have the hand-to-hand skill Carter did, but maybe I didn’t need an elaborate trick, either. Maybe I just needed to move quickly.

I ducked and shoved the man hard in the chest. The gunshot snapped as he stumbled backward, tripping over the back edge of the crate to land on the floor behind. I jumped around the crate and fell to my knees, grabbing the man’s arms and pinning them to the ground, then put one knee on his chest, right on the shiny golden pin that marked his status as Captain.

It took me a second to realize I hadn’t been shot. I quickly grabbed the man’s pistol from his hand, and when I flipped it around and pressed it to his forehead, he didn’t bother moving his now-free arm.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said, trying to sound assertive. “We’re going to stand up and walk up to the deck, where my Captain will decide what to do with you. If you try to run…” I only hesitated a second before finishing, “I’ll shoot you right in the head. Got it?”

He nodded. A bead of sweat rolled back into his hair.

I kept hold of his arm as I stood up, tugging him to his feet a second later. His pistol felt awkward in my hand as I kept it aimed in his direction; the wooden handle was rougher than Sheriff Carter’s, the metal heavier. As we neared the base of the stairs, I realized I hadn’t even cocked the weapon, but it looked like the Captain hadn’t noticed either.

I pushed the man up the stairs in front of me, pressing his gun into his back as Roxy had instructed. When we got to the top, I shouted, “Everyone stop!”

No one stopped. It didn’t even look like anyone had noticed us.

“Tell them to stop, Captain,” I ordered.

He coughed, then called, “Sailors, stand down!”

His voice carried better than mine, and most of the skirmishes near us died down as members of both sides saw the situation. When Sterling met my eyes nearby, he grinned.

A half-grin slipped onto my face in response, which I quickly tried to erase as I pushed the Captain forward again. As more of the fighting ceased, I saw my own Captain approaching from across the ship, a disgruntled Bastian and a smirking Roxy in tow.

Morrissey’s face was dangerously blank. I half expected him to berate me for running off alone again, but what he asked aloud was, “What’s this?”

“Their Captain, Sir,” I responded evenly.

At that, a flicker of surprise crossed his face. “He was hiding?”

I nodded.

“Coward,” Morrissey muttered. “Cinder, take him from Rhotar.”

“Gladly,” Roxy said, gliding forward and roughly grabbing the man’s arm from me. I stepped around them and offered her his gun, which she took and jammed into his back.

“Now,” Morrissey said. “I believe we all know what needs to happen next. Jared, as we discussed?”

Bastian fixed me with a twisted grin. “You want to be a pirate, Rhotar?” He flipped his knife in the air, caught it by the flat of the blade, and extended it toward me. “Do the honors.”

I froze, staring at the knife, then at the man squirming in Roxy’s grip.

And now, I understood what Captain Morrissey had been getting at; I could see the message he wanted to send. But it didn’t have to be me who sent it—that was just punishment for my insubordination.

This wasn’t fun. This wasn’t thrilling or freeing. It wasn’t why I’d joined the Starwatch.

I shook my head. “Let Roxy do it. She enjoys it.”

“That’s exactly why she isn’t doing it,” Morrissey spoke up with a pointed glance in the master gunner’s direction.

“Come on,” Bastian insisted. In a quiet voice that carried across the entire ship, he added, “Prove you’re one of us.”

I looked at Morrissey. He smiled.

‘As long as you’re on my ship, you answer to me, got it?’

I didn’t move.

Morrissey sighed. “You have to understand, Rhotar, it sets a precedent. The more powerful that precedent, the less of this we have to do next time.”

I did understand. It was all for the reputation—the attack, the flag, and now the torture. There was a reason some ships didn’t fight when attacked by pirates, and there was a reason some criminals surrendered the second Daf Carter drew his fancy golden gun.

I’d just never expected to be the gun.

“I’d recommend starting with the less important bits and working your way up,” Roxy spoke up. “Maybe slice off a couple toes.”

I shook my head again. Gavin Morrissey was good at the reputation game. I would just have to be a fast learner.

Before anyone could speak again, I reached to my hip and drew Carter’s pistol. The captured Captain’s eyes followed me as I approached him and held up the revolver for him to examine. The golden inlay blanched silvery in the moonlight, but the design was unmistakable. “You ever been to Hashton?” I asked.

His eyes fixated on the gun.

“You ever heard of Daf Carter?” I continued.

The eyes traveled back to me. He said nothing.

I leaned closer. “How do you think I got this? What do you think I did to him, Captain?”

He was breathing fast, but still, kept his mouth clamped shut. He glanced at where Morrissey was behind me, and I understood: You refused to torture me, his eyes said. You aren’t going to hurt me.

“We’ve already won here,” I told him. “I know it, and you know it. There’s nothing you can offer us that we couldn’t take by force, but if you let us unload your supplies without resistance, we’ll let you live. Don’t make me do something drastic.”

He paused for a long moment, then in a small voice, answered, “Fine.”

I smiled, showing teeth. “Great. And when you get to port, go ahead and tell all your friends what happened. Tell them the Starwatch could hit them next, and next time, I’ll follow my Captain’s orders. Of course, they’re welcome to fight back, if they fight better than Daf Carter.”

I paused to let that sink in, then added, “Go ahead and tell him, too.”