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“Sir, please. There is no harm done. He got her back. This is a good thing. You have extra hands for the next harvest!”

“What I have is a useless, sickly mouth to feed!” Mr. Crawly yells back, making Gerald flinch. “This is my farm. I’ve been far too lenient with you all! Do I need to remind you, Gerald, of what happens when a servant can’t follow directions.”

Gerald’s been on the wrong side of the belt before, but Crawly’s older now, and he can’t swing the leather strap as hard or for as long as he used to. When Crawly doesn’t see fear in his eyes, he clears his throat and looks over the crowd of servants who’ve gathered nearby.

There’s a certain panic that builds in a cowardly man like Crawly when he can’t scare someone into compliance. And desperate cowards have no moral compass.

“You can whip the boy or your wife can take his place, and I’ll do it myself.” Gerald’s shoulders straighten, his eyes find his wife in the crowd for just a moment before he takes the belt from Crawly’s outstretched hand.

Angie cries, and Marian rubs one hand over her back. “Shh, cover your eyes, baby.” When Angie burrows her face in her palms, Marian stands. “It was me, Mr. Crawly. He did nothing wrong.”

Angie’s peeking through her fingers as her mother approaches Crawly. He’s watching Marian closely, and when she’s face-to-face with him, tears welling in her eyes, she sinks down to her knees.

Gerald’s wife rushes toward Angie and grabs her up, pulling the small girl’s face around and palming the back of her head to keep her from watching. Mr. Crawly looks down on Marian silently as her hand moves to the waistband of his pants.

“Mom!” Arlo screeches, but she pays her son no mind. Arlo thrashes against his binds.

“I can make it up to you. Just let him go. Punish me, not my son,” she begs. Mr. Crawly caresses her cheek, and then his eyes dart up to where Claudia’s standing, arms wrapped around herself in the cold, her gray hair spilling out from under a hood.

“Fucking stop her!” Arlo yells, looking at the other servants. Gerald takes a step forward but freezes when Mr. Crawly’s glare cuts to him.

“Please. He didn’t do this! You knew that I was sneaking out to . . .” Mr. Crawly’s hand cracks across her face, and a collective gasp ricochets around the yard.

“Yes, you will pay for your own sins, Marian. But let this be a reminder of what happens when you go against me!” Mr. Crawly snarls before turning his attention to everyone present. “Let this be a reminder for all of you!”

“A reminder?” Marian snarls. “We had a deal Crawly, maybe I should remind you of that and everything you risk losing! I’m sure—” Crawly steps forward and backhands her, cutting her off.

“Deal, what deal is she speaking about Thomas!” Claudia demands, stepping off the porch.

“Nothing dear, just her sordid outings. Isn’t that right, Marian? Just remember who holds whose life in whose hands,” he snaps. I step closer, grabbing Marian by her shoulders and pulling her up off the ground. Before we can move away, Crawly grabs her face and hisses something into her ear that is too low for me to hear. But whatever he says leaves her trembling all over.

Crawly shoves her away. “Open his shirt!” he spits, and a familiar buzzing vibrates beneath my skin.

Hugo reluctantly spins Arlo around and grips the neck of his shirt, tearing it open. I have never seen that man cry, not even when he took lashes from Crawly, but for Arlo, he has tears in his eyes. They don’t see Arlo as the man he is today. To them, he’s still the little boy they all helped raise. Angie wails, and Gerald hands the belt to Hugo and turns away.

Hugo lets the belt slip through his fingers before bringing it down across Arlo’s bare skin without looking.

“Again,” Crawly spits.

I lose track of how many times Hugo swings. There’s a heavy silence, broken only by Angie’s sobs and the staccato crack of the belt. Arlo is shaking, jaw locked tight, but he’s quiet. Too quiet for Crawly’s liking.

“I’ll do it myself,” Crawly barks, snatching the belt back. He grips the leather strap, letting the heavy buckle swing with all his strength. When the metal lands, Arlo’s knees buckle.

Again and again until Arlo’s hiss of pain turns into a roar. Tears instantly flood my vision, and I can’t take it anymore. I lunge for Mr. Crawly, but he swings the belt in my direction.

The buckle slices across my shoulder like a knife, and I drop to my knees, pain and shock rolling through me.

“You’re a coward!” I wail, staring straight into his hateful eyes.

The crack of his palm against my face snaps my head sideways, white bursting behind my eyes.

No one even breathes.

My ears ring as I blink through the stars dancing in my vision. I force myself upright, shaking with fury, and wipe the blood from my lip with the back of my hand.

Mr. Crawly’s voice is calm now. “String her up too,” he orders.

My stomach drops.