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T his was not safe.

No, this was a disaster. Colossal. When Sera lunged for that rope, knife in hand, Alex felt like his heart might just stop. He tightened his grip on the edge of the boat, fighting the urge to lunge at her.

“ Ich sehe sie! ” I see them. The first voice again. “ Da auf dem Boot! ” There on the boat!

Baron von List’s voice and his Prussian lilt were unmistakable.

Alex yearned to return Sera to the ballroom’s comforting embrace, where she was shielded from harm.

His instincts rebelled against the sight, against the danger, and the exposure to his enemies in that moment, but there was no chance to stop her.

It was impossible for him. He prepared himself for the rope breaking.

He cursed, alert, his eyes never once leaving her.

“ Sie haben Ihre Aufgabe nicht vollendet .” The voice was smooth, calculating—almost conversational.

The haughty Prussian tone. Alex didn’t miss the threat that lingered beneath Baron von List’s words.

You didn’t finish your task, hm? Alex watched as Brown stiffened at the accusation, the faint moon highlighting the sweat beading on his brow.

“ Doch, habe ich !” Brown shot back, his voice sharp as a blade, defensive but quaking at its edges.

Alex’s blood ran cold.

That’s why he was always there, his valet, waiter, driver… and the questions. His curiosity wasn’t interest, it was spying!

This traitor!

He had dared to believe they had stumbled into something worse than hired mercenaries, but there stood Baron von List himself, his cloak sweeping behind him like a shadow of his treachery.

Next to him was Brown, the man Alex had once dismissed as nothing more than a meddlesome footman hovering near him. Now he understood why…

A Prussian lilt tinged their words, and Alex was familiar with the German dialect. The words chilled him, their weight heavy with betrayal.

From beneath the blanket, Sera’s hand continued to move, slicing the blade against the thick rope tethering them to the pier.

Her progress was slow, but he could see the rope fraying in the dim light.

Alex’s heart skipped a beat—he could see the determination in her movements, but Brown’s pistol was swinging in her direction.

And then Alex saw it.

Baron von List, holding a double-barreled flintlock firearm. The man had two shots. Draci ! One had already rung out, but the second…

He needed to stall.

“ Mist !” Crap! the Baron cursed.

Alex’s breath was barely audible, but his jaw tightened. His mind raced through his options, weighing them against the barrel of that deadly weapon.

Stall!

“What do you have to gain from hurting her?” Alex’s voice cut clearly across the river’s hum, steady yet edged with purposeful defiance.

He knew von List; such a call, such provocation would throw him off.

He shifted his weight, tightening his grip on the line that held the sail to the mast. It kept him moving, making him a harder target for a gunman’s aim, but it was more than that—it was essential for their escape. He needed that escape to be possible.

“If one desires a task done well, one must see to it personally.” Baron von List tilted his head slightly, as if surprised by Alex.

Then came the answer, full of venom and quiet malice.

“It’s her father’s ships I’ve been using for the gold.

” von List’s words dripped with self-assured smugness.

“If she falls under your influence, your ‘sense of justice’ will take away my entire infrastructure.” He nearly spat the words.

“You’re just as righteous as your brothers and father. ”

Alex stilled.

The ripples of this revelation seeped into his chest like icy water.

He had long known that powerful people—seeking economic alliances—had orchestrated his engagement to Miss Lyndon, but now this realization painfully crystallized before him.

This wasn’t merely about their families or Europe’s balance; it had always been about control.

Sabotage.

“You’ve been diverting our gold. None of it belongs to you.”

“What do you want to do about it?”

“Return it to the people you stole it from.” Alex’s eyes darted to the rope that was about to snap.

“That’d be you and your royal family, hmm?” The words sounded like insults in von List’s voice—their royal status.

“No. Other than you, we serve and protect the locals. They deserve to be paid for their work, reimbursed for the natural resources—”

“That’s unnatural! Finders keepers! Isn’t that what they say in English?”

“It’s not finding if you’re mining for it.” Just a little more, Sera. You can do it.

“You and her together,” von List continued, voice darkening, “would be the worst possible obstacle to my business.”

“It’s not business,” Alex shot, furious now, “if you exploit the mines and the people for your own enrichment.”

“And is that why you hired a spy?”

The baron only laughed, sharp and grating. He turned his gaze to Brown, who flinched. “Someone needed to keep an eye on you, Prince Alexander. But, in hindsight, I overestimated the simple footman from Cornwall.”

Brown’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t refute it. Anger flickered in his eyes, quickly buried in shame.

Alex held his breath as he watched.

The baron handed Brown the pistol with almost casual disdain. “Finish this.”

Alex clenched his fists.

Charles raised the pistol. Alex noticed it in the slight tremor of his arm and the twitch of his jaw.

Whatever drove Brown—whether it was a shadowed past or unseen loyalty—remained a mystery to Alex, a muddled puzzle he didn’t have time to solve.

The man stood rigid, his jaw tight, his hands twitching at his sides as if they wanted to move but couldn’t find a compelling reason.

His gaze was fixed on von List, and for a moment, Alex thought he saw something flicker there—a hesitation, a crack in the stone facade.

von List didn’t miss it. He stepped closer, his voice low but insistent, the words too soft for Alex to catch completely. Whatever he said cut through the tension like a knife, his tone sharp with purpose, his movements deliberate.

Brown’s posture shifted, almost imperceptibly.

His shoulders dropped a fraction, his stare no longer sharp as steel but dulled, worn at the edges.

Alex could swear the man’s hands steadied, their restlessness replaced by an uneasy stillness.

He clenched his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping like it was trying to lock down whatever emotion brewed beneath.

Alex tightened his grip on the tiller at his side, unsure whether to brace for violence or mercy. No matter what game von List was playing, it was weaving itself between Brown’s silence and stance with a skill that Alex couldn’t comprehend.

“Whatever it takes,” von List murmured abruptly at last, his voice carrying just enough for Alex to catch. His tone was a lash, and it landed.

Brown exhaled sharply, his head sinking a fraction before he straightened again, resolute.

Alex couldn’t tell if it was surrender or defiance.

Maybe it was both. But when Brown finally moved, it wasn’t toward the gun on his belt.

It was toward von List, his expression forged with something Alex still couldn’t place.

“I know your girl needs the papers to stay in England,” von List said, “and I will procure them so you can marry her.”

Brown twitched, startled. His hard gaze returned to Alex’s direction.

And then Alex’s heart froze. Brown glanced at Sera, his eyes lingering. Alex panicked. “You might be Prussian,” he shouted, his voice rising forcefully, “but this is England. You don’t have to obey him. von List has no authority here.”

The baron’s sharp laughter sliced through the air. “I may not have authority,” von List drawled, drawing another pistol from beneath his coat with a flourish, “but I do have another pistol.” Brown aimed the pistol at Sera. Alex froze. “Get your aim straight,” he growled.

Silence descended like a noose. Alex’s grip on the sail line tightened, his pulse roaring in his ears. His eyes flicked quickly from the corner of his gaze to Sera. She just needed more time. One more saw.

Alex planted himself between Brown’s aim and Sera.

“You’re a fool if you think this ends with her blood on your hands,” Alex said, his voice steady as stone.

Just one more second.

*

Sera’s nerves were as frayed as the rope, stretching but holding on.

The dull scrape of the knife against the rope filled her ears like a curse word.

Her heart pounded so loudly that she almost couldn’t hear the low murmuring behind her—the sound of men arguing in German.

Their voices rolled like distant thunder, sharp at the edges, incomprehensible yet oppressive in their tone.

What were they discussing? Would they notice her?

The blade bit deeper into the thick, unyielding rope.

Her hands trembled with the effort; her fingers slipped on the hilt as sweat slicked her grip.

The fibers began to fray under the sharp edge, but it wasn’t fast enough.

Each second felt like a lifetime. She pressed harder, her teeth clenched, the knife stubbornly resisting. Then, suddenly—a sharp jolt.

Sera gasped as the knife slipped from her hand, clattering onto the wooden floor of the boat.

The boat lurched violently away from the dock, sending her sprawling to the side.

Fingers scrambled for purchase, and she barely caught the edge before she could fall completely.

Her knuckles went ghost-white, her breath catching in panic as the rope finally snapped with a deafening crack.

“Sera!” Alex’s shout cut through her panic, raw and desperate. The blanket was ripped away from her, the musty fabric replaced with the crisp night air. Moonlight spilled across her face as Alex grabbed her shoulders, his eyes wild, scanning her features.

“Are you all right?” he demanded, his voice trembling with an emotion she couldn’t quite name.

Sera blinked up at him, struggling to assess her own state as her heart thundered within her chest. She wanted to say yes—that she was fine—but her voice failed her.

Then she froze, the telltale sound of a gunshot cracking in the air.

Her head whipped around toward the pier.

Framed in the moonlight and growing smaller by the moment as the boat drifted downstream, Mr. Brown grappled with Baron von List. Their figures swayed in a deadly struggle, his movements less certain, less controlled.

A sudden twist, a desperate shove—then a splash.

Sera winced as Baron von List disappeared into the dark water below.

Mr. Brown stumbled but caught himself, leaning heavily against the pier, the pistol hanging limply in his hand as if the fight had drained the strength from his body.

“What just happened?” Sera whispered, more to herself than to Alex.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he gathered her into his arms, pulling her against him more protectively as the small boat drifted farther from the chaos they had left behind.

The voices faded, replaced by the soothing lap of water against the hull and the occasional chirp of insects carried on the night breeze. They escaped immediate peril.

“You reckless, magnificent fool,” Alex muttered, his voice low and sharp near her ear. His arms tightened around her as though he feared she might slip away even now. “That knife could’ve been the end of you.”

Sera drew back slightly, meeting his stormy gaze with one of her own. Her breath rattled still, but her chin lifted defiantly. “And staying still would’ve been the end of us both.”

Alex’s lips parted—whether to argue, or perhaps to admit defeat—but instead, a faint, ragged laugh fell from them. Disbelief and pride mingled in the sound as he shook his head, almost as if in surrender.

Silence fell; distant city lights shimmered. Only when those lights became faint pinpricks did Alex speak, his voice softer this time, heavier with emotion.

“This,” he said, gesturing faintly at the dark expanse of water around them, “is exactly why I wanted to protect you in Cornwall—from my life. It’s all danger, Sera.

Spies. Gunshots in the night. Threats that never cease.

” His words hung heavily in the air, weighted with both frustration and a pain he couldn’t hide.

Sera hesitated, the threads of his confession wrapping tightly around her heart.

She could feel his anguish, his longing to shield her—but she wouldn’t allow it.

Not now. Not after everything. Her voice, when she spoke, was steady, resolute.

“And that’s exactly why I was raised for this,” she said firmly.

“It’s my family’s business—my father’s fleet.

This isn’t just your fight, Alex. It’s mine, as well.

” For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze lingering on hers, searching for something.

Then Sera sighed and looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers to ease the lingering tension.

A flicker of regret crossed her face as the boat drifted across the Thames.

“For the first time,” she admitted quietly, “I regret skipping my German lessons. If I’d studied properly instead of collecting seashells in Cornwall, maybe I’d understand what they were saying back there.

” Alex’s lips quirked at the corner, a faint and unexpected smile breaking through his solemn expression.

“If you hadn’t nearly drowned,” he said gently, “I wouldn’t have found you.” Sera blinked, startled by his warmth. A memory surfaced, unbidden but vivid, painted with sunlight and the salty scent of the Cornish coast. Her cheeks flushed faintly.

“It was the bird,” she confessed, her words quiet but deliberate. “A seagull. It was tangled in a fishing hook, and I…” She trailed off, her eyes dropping briefly. “I fell into the water trying to free it. That’s when you saved me.”

His fingers lightly brushed her cheek, grounding her as his gaze burned into hers. “I’m glad I could,” Alex said, his voice softening. “Because it’s your heart that I love—the heart that said, ‘I couldn’t just leave that injured seagull behind.’”

Her breath caught as he leaned closer, and for the first time since the chaos began, she felt something other than fear—a fragile, fleeting moment of peace. Darkness their only tether, they drifted together.

For now, they were together. And for now, it was everything.

But they had to go back to the ball.