“Caldwell. A word with you.”
Isaac’s back stiffened at the sound of Thorne’s voice, and a chill raced through Josephine’s blood. She turned toward the captain, who descended the stairs from the helm with a deliberate, measured pace.All eyes shifted to him, drawn by the gravity he carried like a storm front rolling in. His eyes flicked briefly to her, ever sharp and unreadable, before focusing solely on Isaac.
Isaac didn’t move at first, his posture taut, but then he gave a slight nod. “Of course, Captain.”
Thorne motioned to the carved door beside him. “Join me in my cabin.”
With a sidelong glance at her, Isaac strode forward and ducked into the shadowy cabin. Josephine began to follow, but the captain lifted his hand.
“A private word.”
Her pulse quickened, and she halted mid-step as Thorne pivoted and stepped through the door. It closed with a soft click, leaving her standing alone, the quiet of the deck pressing in on her. The pirates loitering nearby gave no comfort, their laughter low and rough, beady eyes flicking over her with calculating interest.
She took a deep breath but the salty air did nothing to calm her nerves. A stack of crates had been secured in place against the wall and she reached for the nearest one and perched on the edge, her knees pulled up to her chest. The murmur of voices reached her and she frowned, looking to both sides. The cabin itself had no windows facing the deck to speak of, only a small vent at the top of the wall, narrow and wrought with rust.
With a swallow, she moved to a crate just below it. Leaning her head back, she tilted her ear closer to the opening. Her heart pounded in her chest as she strained to hear, every creak of the ship suddenly deafening in the silence. Still, she focused, desperate for any fragment of information that might shed light on what was happening inside that cabin.
“Tell me about Ross’s involvement.” Isaac’s voice came low, warped by the timber and rusted metal.
She stretched her back, adjusting her position. There. The scrapeof a chair. The heavy footfalls of boots pacing.
Thorne cleared his throat. “He came to me during the war. Said he had found a way to double our salary, but he needed my assurances of secrecy.”
More silence.
“I asked him if it involved anything illegal,” Thorne continued, his voice low, almost a murmur. “He refused to answer me.”
The rustle of paper came and Thorne’s voice cracked. “All this time, after all the men I’ve hunted down and made pay, and it was him behind it all. That bastard took her from me.”
“There’s better ways to do this, Thorne.” Isaac’s voice cut through the air, sharp and frustrated. “Killing him doesn’t—”
A fist slammed against wood and Josephine jumped, the sharp crack echoing through the vent.
“Do not try to hamper me, Caldwell,” Thorne’s voice came dangerously quiet, his fury palpable. “If you get in my way again, I’ll make sure your woman doesn’t see another day on this ship.”
Isaac let out a low chuckle, the sound rough and humorless. “You’ll have to find another way to threaten me.”
A pause, then Thorne’s gruff voice. “What are you on about now?”
“Look, you were right about Christian and Samantha, but there’s nothing between myself and Miss Montclair.”
Josephine leaned back against the wall as the words sank like stones in her stomach. A suffocating pressure wrapped around her lungs, her heart stuttering, her thoughts tangling. Surely, she had misheard him.
Thorne’s disbelieving laugh rang through the cabin. “Don’t waste your time trying to convince me otherwise.”
“She’s nothing more than a passing fancy, a whim indulged. I mean, look at her, who could resist?” The cruel words cut her, each one deeper than the last, and his easy laughter fell over her like a blade she couldn’t deflect. “She’s not my woman. Never will be.”
Ice slid through her veins, a sharp pain twisting in her chest like a knife. Her spine pressed harder against the cold timber, hands trembling as they clutched the edge of the crate beside her.
She wanted to scream, to call him a liar through the vent. To demand he explain why he would say such a thing when only minutes ago, his mouth had found hers like it was the only truth left in the world. When his hands had held her like something… like something that had mattered.
The silence that followed in the cabin was worse than any sound. It rang in her ears, hollow and final. Her chest heaved as she bit back the sob clawing its way up her throat. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Still, hot tears burned at the corners of her vision.
The back of her hand swiped across her traitorous eyes and she turned her face toward the shadows, wishing she could rip his words—rip him—from her memory.
“Well, hello, Miss Montclair.”
Her spine went rigid at Burke’s drawled words. She refused to look his way in an effort to get him to move on. He didn’t.
