“Goodbye, Hunter.”

Zed watched her disappear, his gun discarded on the altar at his feet.

22

Zander crept silently around the door and peered outside. A stone walkway circled around the courtyard. To the right were the stairs leading to the upper floor. The overgrown garden obscured his view of the other side, but he could see three guards positioned against the walls: one just outside the door, to the right; another farther right, smoking; and a third to his left near the entrance to the north wing, his eyes fixed on a position upstairs where Ace’s prison would be.

Zander closed his eyes for a moment and imagined Ace—no, felt her—above him, waiting for someone to save her, and it gave him the steel he needed to face the men waiting just outside.

Zander pulled the dagger from his right boot and stepped quickly outside, burying the blade in the neck of the first man, his left hand covering his mouth to prevent him from screaming. With his hand still on his mouth, he removed the blade and turned, throwing it at the guard on his left, pushing the stunned man backward with a dull thud.

As he removed his hand from the first man’s mouth and let his body slide to the floor, he slipped the dagger from his left boot and threw it at the smoking guard to his right. He was running toward him before the knife landed, knowing from its trajectory it would be a nonlethal blow. The man’s hand went to his shoulder just after the knife buried there, and his mouth opened to yell, but Zander was already on him. He took the man’s face in one hand and swung down hard, going onto one knee as he slammed the back of the man’s head into the ground. There was a sickening crack, then silence.

Zander pulled the dagger roughly from the man’s shoulder and retreated, making to retrieve the second blade. As he ran, a shot rang out from above him. The bullet whizzed past his head, and he ducked into the garden, rolling onto the ground and looking up, trying to see where the shot came from. Voices rang across the courtyard as the remaining guards tried to ascertain what was happening.

From his position behind an unruly fern, he spotted the shooter at the top of the stairs, his face illuminated by a torch positioned on the wall behind him. He appeared to have been guarding Ace’s door, but was now aiming his pistol blindly into the darkened garden.

Just then, another explosion sounded from outside, this one to the west—Yarrow’s second grenadier. The man looked toward the sound, and Zander used the opportunity to stand, firing at him from a better vantage point. His second shot landed in the man’s stomach just above his belly button. Zander threw himself to the ground again as the man slumped to the floor.

He stayed low, reaching up to pop the collar of his black coat so it obscured part of his face. Strands of his brown hair hung in front of his eyes as he darted past a walkway leading down the middle of the garden, making for the other side of the courtyard.

He could hear the labored breathing of a person behind one of the columns supporting the roof as he approached the east side. He moved silently around the column, emerging to find a single guard positioned at the wall, the rest having moved to examine the dead men. The guard clutched his pistol with two hands, his eyes focused on the veritable jungle in front of him. He didn’t notice Zander approaching until it was too late. Zander dragged the edge of the knife across his throat and lowered him gently to the ground.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Zander rushed into the garden again, relying on the darkness amidst the overgrown plants to shelter him. He looked up at Ace’s door, which was now unguarded, from his crouched position. He took several deep, shaking breaths, attempting to calm his frantic heart. He tried to focus on the voices around him, to count how many men were left in the central courtyard. He’d need to kill them too, before he saved Ace. Lord only knew how long it would take him to pick a lock. He hoped the dead man at the top of the stairs had a key.

He'd counted at least three distinct voices when a loud crashing noise sounded above his head. Suddenly, Ace’s door exploded off its hinges, and a stunning pirate barreled out after it, shoulder first. Without stopping, Ace hopped onto the guardrail and leapt into the garden below, aiming for a tall plant with long, narrow leaves jutting out from a thick cane.

Zander heard the remaining men yell from three directions as Ace wrapped her arms around the stalk of the plant, steadied herself, and fell on her ass on the garden pathway. He darted from his hiding spot toward the other end of the walkway, emerging in time to see her rise from the ground and whip around to face him.

Time slowed down as Zander was taken back to a jungle in Barbados, where he first laid eyes on his beautiful pirate captain. Like then, she wore her favorite red vest over a white shirt. The shirt was torn and dirty, and a button was missing from her vest. A large shard of glass from a mirror was gripped in her hand, a length of material wrapped around one end in a makeshift handle.

Her eyes held the same wild excitement they did the day he met her, a fire that suddenly sputtered, then cooled, upon seeing him there. His heart beat wildly, and a smile spread across his face. Then she threw her knife at him.

Zander jumped as the mirror shard flew past his head and landed square in the cheek of the man sneaking up behind him. He whipped around and punched the man in the throat, then buried his dagger between his ribs before turning back up to look at Ace. Now she was smiling at him. He let out a quick sigh of relief, then unsheathed her ivory cutlass as the bushes to her left began rustling.

“Catch!” he yelled and hefted the blade in the air. She reached up and caught it just in time to cross blades with the man who barreled out of the tangle of leaves at her side. Zander turned his attention toward the final man, who had been standing several yards behind the first, watching the scene unfold from the safety of the shadows. Seeing he had no choice now but to flee or fight, he ran at him, jumping over the body of his comrade and swinging a sword wildly at Zander.

Zander, whose daggers were currently buried in the torsos of two dead men, threw all of his focus into footwork as he dodged the man’s wide swings. He waited until the man paused, reaching for the pistol at his hip. He ducked low, sliding beneath his arm, then stood and swung his fist into the back of the man’s head. As he fell to his knees, Zander retrieved his pistol and shot him once in the back of his head.

Ace’s opponent dropped at the same time, and the courtyard was suddenly silent, save for the two pirates’ heavy breathing, and a lone cricket. Zander replaced his weapon and turned to look at Ace.

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. She just stood there, her chest heaving, blood dripping from her blade onto the still body of the guard at her feet. Zander took a single step in her direction, slowly, as if he were approaching a frightened animal. Then another.

Suddenly, Ace sucked in a loud, rattling breath and dropped her blade. It clattered on the ground.

“Zander,” she said, the word half a sob, and reached out her hand.

Zander ran to her, the tether between them finally snapping into place, pulling them together like two magnets. He wrapped his arms around her, stooping so he could bury his face in her neck. Her hair obscured his vision, and her nails dug into his back as she sobbed freely.

He pulled back, bringing his hands to each side of her face, holding her still so he could get a better look at her. Dark circles sat under each eye, and fresh bruises marked her face and neck, previously obscured by the darkness. Zander made to examine the rest of her, looking for evidence of more abuse, but she slapped at his hands and grabbed the lapel of his jacket, pulling him toward her for a kiss.

His hands left her face and wrapped around her once again, gripping the back of her vest. They kissed like the meaning of life lay just beyond one another’s lips, like they’d been starved for each other far longer than five days. Zander’s tears mingled with her own, falling to the bloodstained path beneath their feet.

It was Ace who finally broke the kiss, looking up at him with a mix of exacerbation and relief, their arms still wrapped around each other.

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

Zander looked around at the dead bodies littering the ground, wondering what other explanation she needed.

“I’m… rescuing you,” he said. He looked upstairs at the door she’d destroyed. “What are you doing?”

“I was escaping,” Ace said, laughter in her voice. “At least, I thought I was. Something woke me, and then I heard Ig—” She faltered, the toll of the secrets she’d held between them suddenly come due. “I heard… Ignacio. I heard him talking about a fire, and then there were gunshots, so I took my chance. Oh Zander, I’m so sorry.” New tears filled her eyes.

Zander shook his head, unwrapping his arms from around her and taking her hand in his. “Don’t fret,” he said, and softly traced his fingers along the edge of a bruise on her neck. His voice took on a dark tone. “Did he do this to you?”

“Actually,” Ace said, turning to look at the man Zander had executed minutes before. She pointed at him. “He did, I think.”

“Oh,” Zander said, his shoulders dropping a bit. “Well, it’s a good thing I killed him then.”

Ace chuckled. “Ignacio doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.” She turned, taking in the scope of the carnage visible from where she stood. “Actually, a few of these guys got their hits in.” She whipped her head back to look at Zander again, a look of appreciation on her face that bordered between professional and carnal. Zander’s cheeks burned, and he smiled.

“They’ll never touch you again,” he said. “Now, let’s get you out of here. Theo and Yarrow are waiting.”

Ace nodded and retrieved her cutlass from the floor, her expression steeling. “Aye,” she said. “Lead the way.”

After collecting his daggers from the bodies of two of the men he’d killed—two of many men he’d killed this week, an existential crisis he would deal with later on—he made his way to the east wing. On the other side of the door was a foyer similar to the one he and Theo had entered, but instead of emptying into a long hallway, it led to a large dining room. Open archways led to more rooms, the darkness obscuring what lay beyond them. He looked at a closed door to the right and pointed, looking at Ace.

“Kitchen?” he asked. She nodded.

Zander rushed to the door, taking a candlestick from a nearby table on the way. He opened the door and held it, fishing in his pocket for his flint and steel. When he looked back at Ace, he noticed she was favoring her right leg.

“Is your leg hurt?” he whispered.

Ace waved her hand dismissively. “I’m okay. Landed wrong when I jumped from the balcony is all. It’s my shoulder that will be throbbing later on.”

Zander brushed his hand gently across her back as she walked through the door.

“Let’s just get you out of here,” he said. “Then I’ll take care of you.”

Ace turned to look at him from inside the dark kitchen, a soft smile on her face.

“You look like you’ve been through hell yourself, Chicken Leg. Let’s say we’ll take care of each other.”

Zander nodded, smiling. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as the joy and utter terror of the past hour began to settle in his bones. His hands threatened to start shaking again, and he gave them a mental scolding, willing his inevitable meltdown to hold off for a few more days.

He lit the candle. The small flame threw the cooking supplies into sharp relief, casting strange shadows on the walls. Replacing the flint and steel in his pocket, his eyes searched the space for a trapdoor in the floor. Spotting it, he placed the candlestick gently on the floor and gripped the edges of the door, prying it open. A wooden ladder led downward into a black abyss.

“This is how I left before,” Ace said. “How did you know about this? I didn’t even tell Theo and Yarrow.”