Page 69 of The Rake OR The Orca Who Met His Match in a Selkie Desiring Revenge

Dahlia gasped, tears bursting from her eyes. She held her hands out for her pot and hugged it close when Elspeth surrendered it.

"Shouldn't—" Aegir began, but they were all thrown against the side of the boat. The entire structure listed to the side and a series of deafening booms ricocheted through them. from all around.

"That's our cue!" Aegir shouted, though Elspeth really only read his lips. She nodded, grasping Dahlia's arm and tugging her toward the exit. The boat rocked wildly beneath their feet, the walls careening into them with each step they took toward the stairwell. As Aegir neared, Feann started screaming again.

"He'll find me, he'll find us! Just leave me Ellie!"

Then, from behind her, more yells.

"Halt! I say, get back here! Those are my property!"

Hands shaking, Elspeth pushed Dahlia toward the stairs, toward Aegir, toward freedom, and turned to face the voice.

A tall elven man stood there, his curly auburn hair clinging to his face, damp from the rain above. Elspeth knew him instantly. In her mind, she could see him slicing his hand open and smearing it all over her brother's pelt, but now she could also see herself stabbing him, over and over. She had to deal with him. It wasn't a situation like hers with Aegir. This bastard would hunt her brother down, he'd never allow such an obedientpetto escape, and he’d always know where to find him. As long as he was alive, Feann was in danger, of recapture, of being trapped in his human form, of the trauma she was only just freeing him from.

"Get them out of here, I have unfinished business with this asshole."

The knife in her holster pressed firm against her leg, reminding her of its presence. All she needed to do was slip it from its holster without him seeing and get close. She'd need to draw him in, though.

"Ah, our wayward sister," the elf drawled, his posh accent harsh on her ears. "Phloy'd will be so glad to see you..."

Even hearing the name made Elspeth's blood run cold. Why had she not considered that he would be here? She’d lived in fearof the man—he'd ruined her life—and yet somehow she'd not even considered that he might be present. The heavy clomp of boots on the stairs drowned out her thoughts and she froze in place. Icy fear shot through her, her eyes trained on the steps as each step revealed more of the man that haunted her nightmares.

Behind her, she heard Aegir speak as if through a wall. "Take him, wait for us down there, or if you see a shark, he's with us, he'll take you to safety."

Before her, the Navigator just smirked, seemingly amused at her terror. Elspeth stuffed her fear down, refusing to be quelled by it. Outwardly, though, she allowed her hands to shake as she reached into her bag. She withdrew her pelt, draping it around her shoulders, like a cloak. It was, of course, bait, but its warm weight around her shoulder soothed her nonetheless.

As she had suspected, the first elf’s eyes widened with interest, and as Phloy'd came into view, his echoed it, lust plainly written—as she had seen so many times.

She wasn’t a skilled fighter, she knew next to nothing. But she had trained and she could use herself as bait. She could appear as helpless as she likely truly was, draw them in, and then, hopefully, activate the small amount oftraining she’d gotten the week before to end it, while she could.

Everything slowed around her, as if underwater. The twin sneers on the elves’ faces were all she could see. Their mouths moved, but she had to focus to understand what they were saying.

“I told you she was exquisite,” her captor said.

“Truly a gift worthy of a Navigator,” her brothers’ captor said.

Surprise flashed across Phloy'd’s face and the tension pulled taut. She had stumbled into some sort of disagreement, it seemed.

In a flash, nothing was underwater anymore, instead, everything moved faster than she could keep track of. The pair of elves launched themselves at her, Phloy'd grabbing at her pelt, and the other for her arm. With a triumphant laugh, Phloy'd whipped it off of her, his hand flying to a dagger at his belt and slicing through his flesh. The sight of his blood as he wiped it across her pelt made Elspeth want to sick up, but she pushed it away. She couldn’t be bound again, and she needed to focus.

Aegir grabbed Phloy'd, spinning him to face Elspeth, his eyes alight with rage. He was presenting her with the opportunity to kill himherself.

Under the cover of her shift, Elspeth had found the cool wooden handle of her dagger where it had lain nestled between her breasts. It fit neatly in her hand, and she grasped it for all she was worth. When the elf hugged her toward him, she unsheathed it and shifted its angle, pointing it up and out so that she could slip it between his ribs. He pulled her to him, and his eyes widened as he felt the sharp tip slide into his heart.

Hot blood dripped down her hand and when Phloy'd backed away, she stared at it in horror. Bright red blood coated the blade, his front, her pelt and her shirt. This time, she did vomit—all over the floor.

When she stood from being doubled over, she was face to face with the Navigator. With her blade still concealed inside her shift, he looked between the three of them, confused.

Everything stilled. The sound of heavy breathing was all she could hear, as the moment hung in the balance. Her hand shook. She was close enough to stab it inside the elf, but she was frozen.

She’d never killed before, she’d never had a reason to, and had neverwanteda reason to. There was no doubt in her mind that she livedin a harsh world, and that sometimes it was necessary, but she’d never thought that it would be necessary for her.

Until that point, killing Feann’s captor had been a foregone conclusion to her mind. Merely a step that needed to be completed as part of his rescue. Now though, she hadn’t had time to process what she’d just done and now she needed to do it again. Her hand that clutched the dagger felt oddly cold.

It was merely a step in rescuing Feann. A task she needed to check off a list—perhaps the most important task. Perhaps, she tried to console herself, she hadn’t killed Phloy'd, merely injured him. She wasn’t a murderer… yet. But the fact remained, shehadto kill this elf, because though he was dressed far finer than she remembered, he was undoubtedly the one that had taken her brother.

Come on, Elspeth.This was what shedid.She did what needed to be done for those she loved, and if she truly loved her brother, she would find a way to move her hand. All she needed to do was a small jerk upward, it was a simple movement. And yet, she was frozen.