Part of him wondered if Lawrence would be cognisant of his fate; if he’d spend eternity on the seabed, only his thoughts for company.
It was what Lawrence deserved. His death at the hands of Rake and Shaun hadn’t been enough. Lawrence had snuffed out too many lives, the ripple effects from those taken immeasurable. The pendant itself—stolen as it was along with Jack, Thomas, and Matthew—exemplified the trail of destruction he’d left. That it should be used against Lawrence as a final act was fitting.
With Quin at his back to steady him, Kit reached into his pocket and drew out the necklace. He’d contemplated doing some sort of speech, but when the time came, he simply held his hand over the edge of the boat and let go. There was no whisper on the wind, no last words. Just the certainty of his creator being banished to the waves, never to return.
Quin’s arms circled his waist from behind, and Kit fell backwards into the embrace. He lost track of where the necklace had dropped, the darkness making it impossible to tell.
“All done?” Quin asked.
Kit’s throat felt tight. He nodded, unable to articulate himself.
Quin nuzzled the top of his head. He didn’t say anything either, and Kit didn’t want him to. They stood there for a while, the rush of the waves and hum of the engine fading into the background.
He spared a final thought for the brothers in the manor house. He hoped they were able to rest, knowing that Lawrence could do no more harm. But he didn’t let his mind dwell on them. He couldn’t.
Because peace wasn’t only for the ghosts.
Kit would let himself have this. He would let himself believe that he was safe, and that he wouldn’t ever have to be alone again. He clutched at Quin’s arms, pulling them tighter around him, needing every comfort Quin offered.
“You did so well,” Quin murmured into his hair.
“I chucked a necklace into the sea,” Kit said hotly.
“And you did an excellent job of it. Threw it very far.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m trying to make you laugh.”
Kit turned and pressed his forehead into Quin’s chest to hide his smile. Only Quin could make him feel joyous at a time like this, when he felt moments away from shattering. But Quin kept him whole—Quin wouldn’t allow him to break. Not when he’d spent so long piecing him together in the first place.
Without further discussion, Quin marched Kit over to the bench, drawing him down to sit on top of him.
“What about the captain?” Kit hissed, mortified at the open display of affection.
“She’s distracted enough by Mabel that she won’t notice anything we do out here.”
Kit looked over and, true to Quin’s word, Mabel was in the little covered helm with the captain. “Aw, she’s making friends.”
“She’s the best girl.”
“Sheis.”
Quin played with Kit’s bare ring finger. “The jewellers said it would be ready tomorrow for me to pick up.”
“About time.”
“They took three days.”
“As I said—about time!”
“So, what are your thoughts about having a big wedding? My mum would kill me if I got married without one. Not to mention that I’ll need to torture Sage with some best man duties.”
Nausea hit Kit, and it wasn’t from the bobbing waves. “Oh god, I need to meet your family.”
Quin smiled up at him. “They’re going to love you as much as I do.”
“I make terrible first impressions.”
