Page 44 of Bloody Black

I stride down the dock toward the Queen Anne’s Revenge , head down, hood up. As if that would make me smaller or help me blend in. Blood drips from my nose, warm and coppery. Meanwhile, the swelling’s already tightening—my eye will surely be purple by nightfall.

Every step leaves a red bootprint, left to dry in the sun.

I’ve killed Soren. Instead of triumphant, I feel tired. Bone-tired. Heavy. Even though it’s barely been an hour, I long to lie down and sleep. Absent-mindedly, I rub the palm of my hand against my temple, as if I might scrub the memory of it from my brain.

Seagulls wheel and scream overhead, scavengers hoping for a morsel of fish.

On the dock, crews unload barrels, nets, and crates. A chill breeze is in the air, smelling like woodsmoke, warm soup, and cider. Someone hums an off-key tune. Ships loom, casting shadows long and deep .

I drag myself up the gangplank, plop into a seat, and pour myself a cup of rum. Drink it down, then pour myself another. Inhale and exhale. My hands need washing. Actually, my whole body. The entire situation makes me feel dirty.

High above, Roger’s corpse swings like a wind chime. Yet, even the gulls avoid him, swinging wide. Who’s laughing now, you bastard?

That’s when I notice the quiet aboard the Queen Anne’s Revenge .

I frown. My ears strain for sound, but there’s nothing. No laughter, no muted conversations, no music, and no rum. Just the creak of the rigging.

“Where is everybody?”

“Ashore. They went for supplies.” Xandretta says, without looking up.

She’s perched on the rail like a cat, one boot hooked under the other knee, sketchbook balanced on her thigh.

Her charcoal scratches steadily—calm, unhurried.

She’s drawing Roger’s corpse again, I realize, the lines of his swinging body savage and rough, his smiling white skull against his black cloak.

“Is Rokhur here?”

“I don’t keep tabs on your demons.”

Robb’s space at the mast is empty. Maybe he’s below decks, out of the sun. Maybe I could join him and get rid of the terrible images in my head.

“What about our prisoner?” I ask, nonchalantly.

“Robb went with Prudence and Holly. They’re at The Bitter End. Tremaine and Domino are below deck. Obviously. ”

Dumbfounded, I gape. The Bitter End? The fortress that’s notorious for black market pirate dealings? She can’t be serious. “You let Robb go ashore?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know why you’re so worried. He’s perfectly harmless.”

He’s convinced her, too. Successfully lured me and my crew into trusting him, and now he’s on shore, where he can easily slip away, board another boat, and get to William before us. Warn him.

“I told you to stay with him!” I shout, lunging for the rail, scanning the docks like I might see Robb vanishing into the crowd. But they’re as empty as they were two minutes before.

“When did they leave?”

“About fifteen minutes ago.”

Panicked, furious, I take off in a sprint. Across the gangplank and down the docks. If Robb plans to escape, he would do it there. It’s vast, full of thugs and pirates and merchants, and within easy reach of horses, wagons, and the docks. He could vanish, never to be found again.

He’ll run straight to William. An expert liar, he hooked me and reeled me in.

People turn as I shove past, their muttered curses trailing behind me.

I glance up the hillside at the formidable castle that juts from the rocks like an unsightly scar. Half collapsed towers, piles of rock… It’s been abandoned for years, a sanctuary for clandestine pirate meetings. Some say buried treasure lies in these hills, but I wouldn’t know.

I hate being on land .

A shadow falls over my back, casting my form into darkness.

I freeze.

“You couldn’t wait for me?” comes the voice. A low, smooth drawl, unmistakable and amused.

I glance over my shoulder and find Teach standing behind me.

“You should have stayed on the ship.”

Teach twirls a dagger between two fingers like it’s a toy. “Eh, well. I decided I didn’t want you to die alone.”

“That’s nice of you,” I say dryly. “Very dramatic.”

We continue up the path together, up to where The Bitter End yawns open like a rib cage—bones of stone, joints of crumbled mortar. Wind whistles through the empty halls around us, and my fingers twitch with the urge to draw my gun, but I wait. I listen.

The scent of mildew and old saltwater clings to everything.

Teach gestures—two fingers, forward. I nod. We turn down a narrow passage, half-collapsed, the ceiling arched high overhead like a cathedral. We pass a tattered tapestry clinging to a wall, its insignia eaten away by rats.

Somewhere ahead, voices rise and fall—low, tense, urgent. I pause beside a broken door, peering through the jagged crack into a central chamber beyond.

A shriek cuts through the noise like a blade—high, jagged, and unmistakably human. I freeze mid-step. The crowd presses around me, thick with salt and sweat and the stink of rotting fish, but that sound threads through it all, sharp as a warning bell.

Faster. Then comes the clash of steel on steel. It’s not the staged rhythm of sparring or training… but real. Reckless and desperate. My stomach clenches. Robb’s going to kill them if I can’t get there in time.

Goddammit! I push my legs to pump harder, jerking my sword from its sheath.

A figure stumbles into view: a man with matted red curls, crawling toward a stack of crates. Mortally wounded.

I skid around the corner to find the entire crew in a brawl. Samson sweats profusely, fighting an unknown stranger, likely one of Robb’s sailors. There are others among them, men I recognize but don’t know by name.

Robb and Prudence circle each other like predator and prey.

She stands tall, every inch of her carved from iron.

Her dark skin glows beneath the afternoon sun, curls braided back in tight rows, sharp cheekbones, wide mouth, copper-flecked eyes that burn with rage.

With a weapon in hand, she’s absolutely lethal.

Instead of being proud, I feel afraid.

“It’s him,” Prudence shouts the moment she sees me. “He was trying to get free! He’s tricked us from the start.”

“I wasn’t! She tried to kill me!”

“He stabbed Holly!” Holly, whom I can’t even see. She’s nowhere near to verify.

“That was her !”

I hesitate. My almost-lover is filthy, blood-slicked. I search his face for the truth, for anything I can hold onto. I remember his mouth on my skin, rough and reverent. I want to believe him. Gods help me, I want to.

But Prudence is my friend. She’s been here next to me, every step of the way. Laughing, sunburnt and barefoot, stuffing mango slices in her cheeks. Dancing on the beach.

Both of them are mine, in different ways. But only one of them is my friend. I can’t possibly choose a man over my crew. So, I shift my stance toward Prudence, heart cracking.

“Don’t come any closer,” I tell him.

Robb’s expression shutters, like a door slamming closed. The softness drains from him all at once, his eyes darken, jaw clenches, and everything gentle in him evaporates.

Tall, dark, and dangerous. That’s what I thought when I first met him. Apparently, I’d forgotten.

Prudence advances on me like an army, her chin high. “I knew you would believe him,” Prudence mutters.

My head cocks to one side, confused. “What’s happening?” I ask her. “I chose you.”

“But you hesitated.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You did.” There’s anger in her face, but her voice is calm.

The silence that comes after this is heavier than cannon smoke. The crew ripples, indecision twitching through them. Many won’t meet my eyes.

“We need to talk,” Prudence says.

“Indeed, we do.” My gaze searches over her shoulder. Much of the crew forms a wall. Shoulder to shoulder, they’re rife with anxiety as my fingers drift down to the hilt of my sword .

Prudence has the bearing of a queen, the fury of a woman wronged, and the stance of someone who’s spent her whole life training for mutiny.

“You are being relieved of command. ”

“What? Who is replacing me?” I ask.

“Me.”

Prudence has always been overconfident, but this time she’s gone too far. Criticizing me is one thing, but… I snort with derision.

“You? You’ve never even touched the helm.”

She laughs. The sound comes too sharp, too loud. “As if the sea is any more dangerous than you.”

Somewhere behind my ribs, something coils tight, but I shove it aside before it can take shape.

“Blackbeard.” Samson clears his throat. “The crew has held a vote of no confidence. They’ve selected Prudence as the interim captain.”

A vote. Neat, clean, and civilized. Not a mutiny… nay, removing me is mere formality.

I round on him. “Did you lose your loyalty somewhere along this journey?”

“Mercy was loyal,” Prudence snarls, voice rising. “She followed you into the storm. Just like the rest of us. And you left her to drown, because you were chasing vengeance .”

She glances at Robb, her hand clenching on the hilt of her sword. “You keep pretending this crew matters to you, but we’ve seen the truth. You’d betray us all if it meant having your revenge.”

“I trained you,” I insist, incredulous .

“You made me a weapon. Must I only be used against your enemies?” She laughs. “What of my own revenge? What of the person who left my sister to die?”

Samson is pale and sweating, his spiky fingers tight on the grip of his sword.

“You were too busy fucking our captive to notice we were sailing into a trap.” Prudence shakes her head. “But I can’t blame you, Captain. Not really. I blame myself. I believed in you. But believing in you will get us killed.”

No one disagrees. No one steps forward on my behalf. There’s only heavy silence, thick as storm clouds. I can’t argue, because she’s right.

“You’ve lost yourself.” Prudence furiously paces. “You taught me that survival means not hesitating. Yet, every time Robb shows he can’t be trusted, you stay your hand. Falling for him has softened your edge.”

“Try me,” I say cooly. “And see how sharp my blade can be.”

My fingers close around the hilt of my sword. Not to hurt anyone, just to protect myself… but I only bear half the blade before steel flashes.

My cutlass spins across the deck, knocked from my hand. I stagger back, cradling my hand to my chest. The pain is instant, slicing through my palm like lightning splitting the sky.

Around me, the crew pulls in tighter, circling like sharks scenting blood. One of them kicks my sword away with the tip of his boot. I stare, stupidly, at the blade spinning like the hands of a clock .

“Bind her,” Prudence says, and glances over at Robb. “Also him.”

She leans close. “I’m sure you two lovebirds won’t mind sharing a cell.”

Rough hands seize my arms, wrenching them behind my back. Someone ties the rope; I force myself to submit, to not fight or flinch.

“Mercy once told me this crew would follow me, come hell or high water,” I tell Prudence. Blood drips from my fingertips, spattering red on my boots. I know she remembers that day; she was sitting with us.

Prudence’s expression sours. “She followed you into the storm. You left her to drown.”

Then she cuffs me on the head with the hilt of her sword. There’s a loud thud, and pain follows, splitting my skin like a crack in the earth.