Chapter 18

The air in the Goldhair warehouse was thick with the smell of damp wood and spoiled grain. Loric Goldhair’s back was to the room, his broad shoulders a wall of contained fury as he stared out a grimy window at the sleeping harbor. He refused to look at his son. The silence was a heavier condemnation than any shout.

His voice, when it came, was low, a blade scraped over stone. “You let the rat get away with the gem. You let the crew that smuggled him leave the harbor unscathed.” He finally turned, and his eyes were chips of flint. “And now you’re working with whores? This shame cannot persist.”

Jack, usually a peacock of swagger and loud confidence, seemed to shrink. His posture was that of a scolded boy. “I understand, father. Please. Let me do this my way. I will come back with a fortune and an alliance that will solidify our family for a generation.” He drew a steadying breath, his chin lifting a fraction. “I will also rid Starlight of that impostor you once called son.”

“You will right this, Jack.” Loric closed the distance between them in three slow, deliberate steps. The floorboards creaked under his weight. He grabbed his son’s face in both hands, his grip firm enough to make Jack’s eyes water. “And when you find the impostor, make sure he stays missing. Your mother doesn’t deserve to grieve for her monstrosity.” The words were cruel, exact. He leaned forward and pressed a hard, impersonal kiss to Jack’s forehead. “I love you, boy. But do not let anything tarnish our reputation. Including yourself.”

*

The heavy warehouse door screeched open on rusty hinges, flooding the space with a sliver of dull morning light. Jack strode in, his previous meekness shed like a coat.

“WEASEL!” he exclaimed, his voice a booming, false cheer that echoed in the vast, empty space.

Trudy flinched at the nickname. Jack pulled him into a hug that was all bone-crushing force and no warmth, a performance of camaraderie meant to intimidate. “You are the man with all the information! And we have a rat to catch!”

Across the room, Lexi preened, soaking up the attention. Beside her, Silvia stood ramrod straight, her nose slightly wrinkled as if she’d smelled something foul. The grim, dusty warehouse was beneath her, and she made no effort to hide it.

Jack jostled Trudy with a forced, jovial voice. “Lexi, dear, told me all about your… escapades.” He winked, a grotesque parody of conspiracy. “Don’t worry, I’m not upset. If you can deliver, I will make all your wildest dreams come true.” He let out a short, sharp snort. “Or, well, I guess Lexi will.”

Trudy managed a shaky smile, his guard lowering a fraction.

In an instant, Jack’s joviality vanished. His face went still, his eyes flat. “I don’t think I have to explain what will happen if you fail, though. Right?”

“No,” Trudy quickly replied.

“Yes? Okay, yes.” Jack dismissed the answer entirely, his attention already elsewhere. “I’ll show you, then.” He snapped his fingers.

A harsh scrape of wood on stone echoed through the warehouse. Two of Jack’s men dragged a n***d man strapped to a heavy chair into the center of the room. A burlap sack was tied over his head.

“They say no ship can have two captains…” Jack mused, circling the chair like a shark. “THIS captain failed to land a single shot on a prize that was worth wayyyyy more than his life.” He stopped, his gaze landing on Trudy. “Now I want his boat. What do you think should happen, Trudy?”

Trudy stammered but didn’t answer fast enough. Jack continued on, “Lexi, what do you think?”

She didn’t hesitate. A dark, seductive little grin curled her lips. “Make him bleed, darlin’. Take his boat. And his life.”

He grabbed a heavy hammer from a nearby workbench. The iron head thunked dully against his palm. He gave a firm, almost cheerful nod to his men and approached the tied man. Lexi let out a small, eager squeal. The Gifted Heart soon had a new captain.

*

“Captain, we have a lone sloop off the coast of the isles,” Finneas reported.

Captain stepped outside to see a flagless sloop headed straight for them. Such a brazen approach wouldn’t be expected of an attacker and soon a spotter called down, “White flag!”

With boards laid out, Riley, Thomas and Aaliyah joined Captain on the Silent Tide.

“Am I glad to see you all,” Riley grinned, her smile wide and bright as she approached Captain.

The Captain’s gaze swept past her first mate, over the rail to the sloop’s deck. A dozen hard-eyed men lingered there, their hands resting near their weapons. Hunters. They watched the reunion with a palpable wariness. Riley hadn’t just saved the princess. She’d recruited her own private army. And she’d commanded them. Uncontested.

A cold stone settled in the pit of Captain’s stomach. She did not smile back.

“Riley. I need to see you in my quarters.” Her voice was flat, devoid of the relief the moment should have held. She turned to Finneas, her order slicing through the sea air. “Inspect them. Thoroughly.”

The door to her cabin clicked shut, sealing them in the quiet, wood-paneled room. The ship’s gentle sway was the only movement. Captain turned, and the coldness she’d worn on deck solidified into something harder, sharper.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Riley’s confident smile faltered, wiped away by the sheer ice in Captain’s tone. She blinked, thrown. “We were discovered. This was our way out. The only way.”

“You brought a ship full of armed men back to my crew,” Captain hissed, the words low and precise. Each one was a carefully aimed dart. “Men whose loyalty you bought, who answer to you.” She took a single step forward. The space between them crackled. “And what would have happened had we been held at Brinemarch? You fancy yourself a captain then? Run away with the prize and keep it for yourself?”

The accusation hung in the air, ugly and final. Riley’s face, once open and relieved, hardened into a mask of raw hurt. Her posture straightened, her own anger rising to meet the Captain’s frost.

“I’ve killed. I’ve bled. And I’ve cried for you,” Riley bit out, her voice trembling with a ferocity that betrayed the tears welling in her eyes. She turned her head sharply, a futile attempt to hide the hot streak of moisture tracing down her cheek. The solid wood of the door offered a promise of escape, of not having to stand under this brutal, unjust scrutiny.

She moved toward it, a surge of angry motion.

A sudden, explosive weight slammed into the back of her shoulder. Captain’s hand, shoving her off balance, sending her stumbling into the door frame with a heavy thud. The impact rattled the wood.

“I did not dismiss you.” Captain’s words were gritted out, low and venomous.

Captain slid between Riley and her escape, blocking the door. She pressed her arms against the frame, a human barricade. Riley towered over her, breath heaving, a tempest of rage and wounded pride.

“Captain,” Riley warned, her voice a low, dangerous thing. “Get out of my way.”

“First Mate Riley,” Captain’s voice was a whip crack of authority, laced with a challenge. “Explain your treason.”

Riley walked slowly over, grabbing the wrists of Captain with a firm grip. She forced the Captain’s arms up, pinning them high against the door above her head. The move brought their bodies flush. Riley’s breath hovered over the Captain’s lips, warm and agitated.

“My treason?” Riley’s voice dropped to a searing whisper, her eyes burning into Captain’s. “I fought. I killed. I coerced. I refused to die. I had one mission above all else. Above the crew. Above the princess. Above whatever farcical code you believe I have broken.” Her grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to feel like a brand. “My treason is that I did anything necessary to come back. Anything needed to be with you.”

Their chests heaved in unison, fury and something else, something wilder and more desperate, charging the scant inches between them. The air was gone from the room, replaced by the heat of their shared breath, the pounding of two hearts refusing to yield.

Captain surged forward, closing the distance. Her lips crashed against Riley’s.

For a heartbeat, Riley went rigid, stunned. Then, fury transmuted into a raw, consuming need. Her own kiss was a retaliation, just as fierce, just as desperate. She pressed her body forward, driving Captain back against the door with a solid, resonating thump.

Outside, the sound echoed down the quiet hallway.

Finneas, Thomas, and Korlai, having approached to deliver a report, froze mid-step at the abrupt, violent noise. They exchanged a single, wide-eyed glance of curiosity and concern. THUD.

Finneas’s face tightened with alarm. He moved quickly for the door handle before Korlai caught his wrist. He gestured with his hand for patience and pushed his ear to the door. 

A battle clearly raged within. A sharp creak of furniture straining. A frustrated, guttural grunt of feminine exertion. Then, a sudden break in the carnage.

A soft, shuddering moan of pure pleasure slipped through the door. It was followed immediately by a deeper, more invigorated grunt, the sound of a body moving with renewed, frantic purpose.

Korlai straightened up, his grin now full and brilliant. He looked from Finneas’s bewildered face to Thomas’s raised, knowing eyebrow.

“How about,” Thomas suggested, his voice barely a whisper, thick with shared understanding, “We check in later, gentlemen?”