"That's not—" She stops, takes a breath. "I'm not leaving yet. I'm asking for space. On this boat, in this situation, until we know what we're actually dealing with."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"You need time, I'll give you time." I take my own step back, matching the distance she created. "But Sera? When you're done thinking, when you've figured out what you want, I'll still be here. Whatever you decide."
She nods once, sharp and quick, then turns and disappears below deck.
I stand alone at the bow while the last light fades from the sky and the marsh settles into its nighttime symphony. Frogs and insects and the occasional splash of something hunting.
Mace appears at my shoulder. "She needs time."
"I know."
"Priest is already working his contacts. Running down every connection, every money trail. If anyone can untangle this, he can."
"And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime, we keep her safe and wait for answers." He claps a hand on my uninjured shoulder. "For what it's worth, I don't think she's done. The way she looks at you when she thinks no one's watching. That's not a woman who's given up."
"Maybe not. But it might be a woman who's about to."
"Then don't let her." He moves back toward the stern, toward Cal and Priest and the tactical problems he can actually solve. "Figure out who's behind this. Neutralize the threat. Give her a reason to stay."
"And if the threat can't be neutralized?"
"Then we adapt. That's what we do." He pauses. "Get some rest, Ford. Tomorrow's going to be complicated."
I don't rest.
I stand at the bow until the stars come out, thinking about debts and danger and a woman sleeping thirty feet away who might already be lost to me.
Five days left on our original arrangement.
Five days to figure out who wants us dead and why.
Five days to convince Sera Mancini that what we have is worth fighting for.
The marsh wind carries the sound of her crying through the open cabin hatch.
I don't go to her.
Not because I don't want to.
Because she asked me not to.
And loving someone means respecting their boundaries, even when those boundaries are breaking your heart.
8
SERA
Iwake to the sound of gunfire.
Not the close, sharp reports from the attack two days ago. These are distant. Muffled by water and marsh and the predawn darkness that still wraps around Second Watch like a shroud.
I'm on my feet before my brain fully engages, reaching for the shotgun Ford moved to a mounting bracket beside the bed. The weapon is heavy and familiar now in a way that would have horrified me two weeks ago.
