Page 9 of Ashwood (Wallflowers and Demons #1)

His reasons are wasted on me. “Do not take me for a fool, you unrepentant blackguard. I’ll have you strung by the hull until your bones bleach.” I lean in closer until my face hovers inches above his. “Until you are dead.”

He flounders for words, and even Gabriel hesitates. But I lay the cards down. I reveal it all to him with a pointed finger: the dog, the missing steward, and the lies of deceit. “The Duchess is not in her chambers, she is not anywhere. What have you done with her?”

Rage builds as I challenge him, unblinking, my grip fastened to him, until his mask finally crumples. He believes his own lies.

“You don’t want her,” he snaps. “We heard it from your very lips! What does it matter if I take her off your hands? You do not want her!”

At his revelation, Gabriel’s head sharply turns, and all diplomacy evaporates from his face.

“Find the Duchess,” he orders his men who, drawn by the commotion, now fill the small dining area. “She must be aboard.” He turns to the Captain. “And he doesn’t leave this room.”

“Yes, my lord,” a Bow Street runner answers.

The Captain falls with a thud as I release him.

There is no time for delay. We split apart, Gabriel going one way, I the other.

The beast inside me roars, tearing at the edges of my restraint.

It wants to break free. It wants to kill.

I retrieve the bottle tucked in my coat and drink deeply, forcing the monster back into its cage.

Katherine, I must find her before it’s too late.

If she disappears from this ship, she will be gone, forever.

I don’t slow my pace. Each laboured breath comes harder now.

Katherine. Where are you ?

I round a corner, half-running. A few crewmen shuffle in front of me, murmuring among themselves. My footman trails behind, worried. I don’t care. I need answers, and I need them now. I’m barely two steps away when I hear them. Their voices carry. I freeze.

“The crates…” One of the sailors mutters. “I don’t know why they’re going back now. Should’ve unloaded them in London when we came through. Makes no damn sense, that.”

“What do you mean?” another man replies. “They just came from London. I heard they were just supplies. Can’t be anything more than that. They must’ve forgotten to unload the shipment.”

The first man scoffs. “That’s the thing. Tis a new shipment. They were packed in a hurry and sealed up tight. There ain’t a single name on the manifest. I asked, but the officers told me to keep my mouth shut.”

Gooseflesh dots my skin as I listen. Why would crates be loaded and returned to London? We’ve just come from there.

I move closer, my heart pounding, but just before I can catch more of their conversation, the sailors break off and disperse. I stand for a moment, my mind spinning. Crates. Returning to London. Sealed tight, and unmarked. It doesn’t make sense.

I don’t wait for an answer. My feet are moving again. I run down the plank with Thomas racing behind me.

“Your Grace!” He bellows. “Slow down!”

I spot it before I fully register what it means.

The boat. It’s been lowered. A silhouette hangs on the horizon, far enough from the ship’s edge, the ropes creaking as the crew pushes it out into the sea. It’s full of crates. Too many crates.

My heart skips a beat as I lock onto the unmistakable figure standing among them.

Mr. Cutter. The steward.

His face is pale, feet shuffling as the boat steers away from the ship. My blood goes cold.

My Katherine. She’s in one of them.

I raise a pointed finger, breathing heavily as I race toward them. “Stop that boat!”

My mind doesn’t think anymore. It acts. There’s no more time to waste. I push through the deck, shunting past barrels, and knock men aside as I sprint toward the edge of the ship. If I don’t act now, Katherine will vanish into the night, and I’ll be too late.

I don’t stop. My muscles go taut as I spring forward, my feet barely finding purchase before I leap off the edge of the ship, twisting midair. My stomach drops, and then my spine hits the boat with a sickening thud, sending it rocking violently. Joshua shouts behind me. “Your Grace!”

His voice becomes lost inside the roar of blood between my ears. I land hard, winded, but I don’t waste a moment. My gaze immediately sweeps over the crates .

“What in God’s name…”

Cutter’s face grows wide as the boat sways. I cough and rise to my feet, straighten, hands still gripping the edges of the boat. The men aboard stumble back as I take one step forward, fury rising.

“You have something that belongs to me,” I growl.

Cutter doesn’t answer, but his face is pale, lips trembling. There is fear and panic in his eyes.

He knows. He knows exactly what’s happening.

“Which one?” I demand.

Cutter stands frozen as I turn to him, eyes burning, heat rolling off my veins. The Demon rises. “Where is she, Cutter?” I ask again. My voice lowers. It is the beast who speaks. “Do not test me.”

Terror arrives. He gulps, eyes wide with confusion before he glances at the crates around him. “I-I don’t know what you mean, Your Grace,” he lies with a stammer.

His gaze veers toward the farthest crate.

Katherine, she’s in there.

Before he can speak again, I push myself toward the wooden box and the Demon wanes, suppressed by the tincture. Cutter’s face pales even more as he stutters. “Please, Your Grace, I—I didn’t mean—”

But his words are drowned out as I shove past him and order the men aboard, to wrench it open. They do so at my command. I hold my breath as wood splinters apart until nothing remains. It is then, a series of gasps ricochets throughout the boat.

“Sweet Jesus Christ, it’s a woman!”

“She’s still breathing!” another shouts in disbelief. “Quick! Fetch the lantern!”

I lift Katherine out myself and draw her limp body to my chest. Her skin is cold and her pulse beats shallow. Rage boils in my gut, but I push it down and glance at Mr Cutter. “Return this boat to the ship, and restrain him. The Widow now belongs to me.”

The men nod. “Yes, Your Grace.”