Green eyes glinted in the dim light. “At least you’re admitting it.”
Isaac sank against the wall as Christian drained the remaining whiskey in a single swallow. He frowned as his friend coughed and set the bottle down with more force than necessary, fingers trembling before drawing into a fist. Beneath Christian’s usual calm, a restless energy flowed. Something was off. He’d just been too damn preoccupied with his own misery to notice.
He straightened, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t come here to talk about Josephine, did you?”
Christian didn’t answer. He shifted his weight, then began to pace, boots thudding softly against the wood floor. His hands flexed at his sides, opening and closing as if itching to grab something and hold on.
Unease curled in Isaac’s gut. The haze that had clung to him all morning, thick with whiskey and regret, thinned in an instant as his thoughts sharpened. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Christian stopped short at the window, staring out the gap between curtains for a breath. Then he turned back. “I’m leaving.”
“What do you mean?”
His friend lifted his gaze, steady and unreadable. “To join my father.”
Isaac’s head snapped up. “The hell you are.” The words burst out before he could temper them. He took a step closer, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I have to know, Isaac.”
He swallowed, his throat tight. “You know if you go, you will be an enemy of the United States of America?”
Christian gave him a tight smile. “What choice do I have? If the Navy finds out who Thorne really is, there will be no order to capturehim. It will be to kill on sight. And then I’ll never find the truth.”
“What about Samantha? What does she have to say about that?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t…” Isaac dragged a hand through his hair. “Christ, Christian, he killed her parents.”
A muscle ticced in Christian’s cheek. “I know.”
“And what if our paths cross out there?” A growl rumbled through his throat. “What if you’re killed in battle?”
Their gazes locked, Christian’s going sharp. “Would you fight me?”
“Of course not.” Isaac’s jaw tensed. “But my men wouldn’t know better.”
Christian scoffed. “You think any of your men could best me?”
“That’s not the point,” Isaac snapped. “This has nothing to do with skill. You joining him… It changes everything.”
Christian’s smirk faded, the weight of the moment settling between them like a storm building at sea. Isaac stepped closer, eyes hard. “You’re not some nameless sailor defecting to a rogue captain. You’remyfriend. And if you walk away now… if you stand beside Thorne—you’re no longer just chasing answers. You’re choosing your side. And God help us both if we end up on opposite ends of a cannon.”
Christian held his ground, the edge of defiance in his posture tempered by the deep weariness in his eyes. “I know what I’m choosing.” His voice was quiet, steady. “And I know what it might cost. So, don’t lecture me.”
Isaac shook his head, jaw clenched so tightly it ached. “Damn it, Christian. There’s no coming back from this—not without consequences.”
His friend’s eyes darkened. “You think I don’t understand that? Think it doesn’t tear me up inside?” The words faltered at the edges, betraying something too heavy to hide.
Isaac stared at Christian, the weight of his declaration sinking in. His friend’s determination—almost a quiet resignation—settled heavily between them. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’ve already made up your mind. But this… you’re playing with fire. You don’t know what you’re walking into.”
Christian’s mouth drew into a thin line, but he didn’t back down. “I know exactly what I’m walking into.”
Isaac’s gaze flickered, the frustration brewing in his chest threatening to boil over. “And what? You think that’s going to make it any easier? How exactly are you planning on finding him? We’ve had no luck the last few weeks.”
“I won’t have to.” Christian adjusted his jacket. “Once he hears his son is looking for him, he’ll find mefirst.”
Isaac stared at him, heart thudding. “Samantha will never let you go.”
