“Is it her?” Charles asked over his shoulder as he watched the ship ahead of them cut through the water.

  “It’s her. Right where she’s supposed to be.”

  “Bring us alongside.” Charles couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth as he studied the bounty before him.

  “Spread your sheets! Stand ready with grapples!” Charles’s first mate barked.

  Charles listened as the orders were repeated and the crew sprang into motion, canvas snapping open and ropes flying into ready hands. The wind filled their sails perfectly, but something caught Charles’s eye that made his smile fade.

  He lifted his spyglass just in time to see figures leaping from the target ship’s rails, splashing hard into the sea below.

  “His men are jumping ship?” His first mate sounded genuinely surprised.

  Charles already knew the truth.

  “They aren’t his men,” he said flatly. “They’re his cargo.”

  The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity.

  “When Jack asked me to hunt her,” Charles continued, “he said she was hauling timber. Supplies badly needed for fort repairs.” His jaw tightened. “Funny…I don’t recall him saying anything about slaves.”

  Betrayal burned hot in his chest. Jack had used him. Manipulated him. There would be words once Charles returned to shore, but first, there was a fight to finish.

  He ordered the launches cut loose and left behind for the slaves who were strong enough to swim. Then he gave the command to press on.

  The wind favored them. They overtook the slaver with alarming ease. It was almost too easy. The ship carried no cannons to return fire, and within minutes, Charles’s crew had boarded her. The slaver’s crew fought desperately, but they were poorly armed and outmatched.

  Charles ignored the chaos around him. He had boarded this ship with a single purpose. The captain had barricaded himself inside his quarters. Coward. Charles kicked the door in with a single blow. The man inside raised a pistol, his hands shaking so badly that it betrayed his fear. Charles didn’t slow his approach. He could see immediately that the man was no crack shot.

  The captain fired.

  The shot went wide, two feet off, and buried itself uselessly in the wall.

  Charles stopped in front of him.

  “You know who I am.” The recognition was already written across the man’s face. “What you cannot know is where I come from. What I once was. If you knew that, I imagine you would have made very different choices today.”

  The punishment had already been decided. Charles seized the man by the hair and dragged him from the room, ignoring his cries as they spilled out onto the deck.

  “Fetch a ball and chain!” Charles snarled over the din of battle.

  It arrived within moments. Charles wrapped the chain around the captain’s legs while the man begged and pleaded. Charles heard none of it. When the captain struggled, Charles struck him hard enough to drop him silent.

  The lock snapped shut.

  “Help me get him over,” Charles ordered.

  Together, they heaved the man over the rail. The splash as he hit the water did nothing to ease the fury boiling in Charles’s chest. He ordered the small amount of bounty collected and transferred to his ship. Then, without concern for who remained alive aboard her, he ordered the slaver sunk.

  Let them share their captain’s fate.

  It took over an hour to recover the slaves and harness the launches for the return to Nassau. Charles hoped, briefly, that the distance might dull his anger toward Jack.

  He doubted it.

  The return took two full days and a night.

  Charles arrived home to find the fort untouched. The men Jack had supposedly hired were drinking and laughing inside Jack’s new house. Rage flared instantly.

  “Jack!”

  Jack appeared on the stairs with Anne just behind him. Charles shoved his way through the crowd. Jack followed him inside and sat on the edge of his desk, shoulders slumped. Anne remained silent—wisely.

  “Please, let me explain,”

  “What is there to explain?” Charles snapped. “You couldn’t repair the fort, so you lured me into capturing a ship full of slaves to do it?”

  He leaned over the desk. Both hands braced against it.

  “It was the first solid lead on a slaver we’d had in weeks,” Jack said weakly. “I needed someone I knew would win her.”

  “So, you lied?”

  Jack didn’t answer.

  “What the fuck made you think I’d hand them over to you, knowing what you know of me?”

  Jack stood. “Because we agreed the fort mattered. You, Flint, and I.”

  “We agreed you’d hire men!”

  “I tried!”

  “You didn’t try hard enough!”

  Jack erupted. “I offered obscene wages! They demanded more. Then they told me they’d work when they pleased. It’s five crews, hundreds of men, and the fort looks worse than when we started!”

  Charles’s fury hardened.

  “I stood between you and him, Jack! When Flint was ready to wage war against you over the gold, I was the one who said you would manage it as well as anyone could. For the good of this place, I was the one who said you could be trusted.” Charles reminded Jack.

  The words came sharp and fast, the restraint Charles had maintained finally giving way. He stood rigid, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on Jack as though daring him to deny it.

  “Why? Why did you stand behind me in that moment?” Jack asked furiously. “I'll tell you why. Because you and I had been through enough shit for you to know that I would do the same for you, that I have done the same for you, and would again without hesitation.”

  Jack pushed himself up from his chair as the words poured out of him, unable to remain seated under the force of his own conviction. He rose until he stood directly before Charles, close enough that there was no avoiding eye contact, no retreat from what had been said.

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  “I made a commitment to you, with you, to restore this place, to make it strong again. I see no other way to have it done. And I will have it done! I will move Heaven and Earth to have it done because I refuse to let you down!”

  The last of it was nearly shouted, raw and unguarded. Jack drew in several deep breaths, his chest rising and falling as the fire drained from his posture and something quieter took its place.

  Jack took a few deep breaths as Charles's manor changed. The anger in Charles’s expression faltered, giving way to something heavier—resignation, perhaps, or reluctant understanding. He knew what Jack had said was true. As much as he despised the situation, he could not deny that Jack was trying, that everything he did was driven by the same impossible hope they had once shared.

  Charles turned away and sat on the edge of the desk, the wood creaking softly under his weight.

  “I knew this would be difficult for you, so I kept it from you.” Jack continued. “Please know I meant no slight by it. No lack of respect or friendship. It's quite the opposite.”

  Charles looked toward Jack but didn’t say anything. His silence was not dismissal—it was surrender. A silent stalemate had been reached. As much as Charles hated it, he had said what he needed to say, and now, regrettably, found himself agreeing.

  With nothing left to add, both men having laid their truths bare, Charles pushed himself off the desk and turned away. He left without another word, allowing his feet to carry him wherever they chose.

  It was straight to her.

  He borrowed a horse and rode hard, the wind tearing at him as the settlement fell away behind. He had spent enough time away from her, allowed too many duties and distractions to keep him distant. The small home on the inland side of the island came into view far too slowly for his liking.

  When he reached it, he didn’t bother knocking. He went straight in.

  Emma was seated in a chair by the fire, her hands busy with needle and thread. She barely had time to look up before he was upon her. He approached, tore the work from her hands, and lifted her to her feet in one swift motion.

  “It's good to see you, too.” She angrily jested at him as he scooped her up into his arms and made his way toward the bedroom.

  He kicked the door shut behind him, and within minutes, he had her naked and in bed.

  There was no tenderness in the urgency of it—only need. She met his desperation with her own. She kissed just as savagely, answering whatever storm he had carried in with him. Her nails dug into the skin of his arms when he thrust inside of her, and her back arched beneath him in response.

  He needed the release only she could give him, and he worked hard to find it in her. She did not protest the abrupt tryst, though he knew his savagery would have to be answered for when it was over and done with. She was too intelligent not to know something was wrong with him.

  She came in a rush around him, and he buried himself deep inside of her and followed. When the pleasure ebbed, they were left breathing heavily, their bodies slick with a thin layer of sweat. A few small strands of hair clung to her forehead, and he brushed them away with surprising gentleness.

  When he went to pull his hand back, she caught it and brought it to her cheek, turning her head so she could kiss his palm.

  “Do you want to tell me about what troubles you?” She asked, her eyes searching his.

  He cupped her cheek and leaned down to kiss her instead of answering. He had known she would see through him. She always did.

  He rolled off of her and onto the mattress, bringing her with him so she lay draped across his chest. His hand rested absently along her spine. He waited a moment before speaking, as if bracing himself.

  “The cargo Jack sent me after was slaves.” He got right to the point.

  At his words, she lifted her head from his chest and searched his face carefully. There was no accusation there, only calculation and concern. After a long moment, she finally spoke.

  “You gave them to him, didn't you?” She asked.

  “I did.” He told her without hesitation.

  She didn’t get angry. She didn’t question him. She simply looked at him, studying the weight behind his eyes.

  “I guess I'll have to make some extra food to take with you when you go back to the fort.” The corner of her mouth turned up a little.

  There was no fight in her. She knew there was a reason he had done what he did, and she knew he would be there at the fort with them. She was willing to give what she could to soften the edges of a hard thing. That was her way.

  He pulled her forward and kissed her again, slower this time. She didn’t protest when he sought her once more. Not with the same fury, but with something quieter, almost grateful. He took his fill of her again, as though trying to anchor himself before stepping back into the world.

  But as much as he wanted to spend the rest of the day and night tangled in Emma’s arms, the nagging feeling in his gut would not go away. Duty pressed in on him.

  Reluctantly, he parted himself from her body.

  “I have somewhere I need to be,” Charles told her.

  “You'll come back when you're done?” Emma asked as she stretched lazily across the bed, though her eyes remained fixed on him.

  Charles gave her a nod and one last kiss.

  “Do not wait to rest.” He told her.

  “Give Jack my regards for bringing you home.” She joked as he started out the door.

  Charles rode back to town at a slower pace than he had ridden out. The fort was alive with new activity. The slaves had made good progress in a short amount of time—walls rising, stores being moved, foundations reinforced—but Charles’s gut still twisted as he observed the work for several long minutes before he went searching for Rackham.

  He found Jack sitting alone in the dimly lit cavern where they stored their most valuable bounty yet. The Urca gold. Instead of looking like a man triumphant atop unimaginable wealth, Jack looked as miserable as Charles felt.

  “Your slaves are making progress,” Charles told Jack as he approached.

  “You know I take no pleasure in it.” Jack looked half panicked as he told Charles. “If there was any other way...”

  “Jack, if I thought it gave you pleasure, I'd have killed you the moment you suggested it.” Charles let him off easier than he truly wished to, but Jack had made the choice Charles himself would have made. As ugly as it was.

  Jack gave a faint chuckle and hummed in agreement as Charles took a seat beside him on the cool stone floor. For a moment, neither spoke. But Jack did have something to say.

  “The first moment I saw it on the beach, I thought, 'My God, the things I'm going to build with this.'”

  His voice echoed faintly off the cavern walls. He sounded exhausted rather than inspired.

  “A city...Alive in a place it has no right to be, in defiance of all reason and refusing to be dislodged, but growing...” Jack paused to shake his head. “A place that fifty years hence and when I'm long gone would force the World to acknowledge Jack Rackham was here.”

  Charles looked over at him. There was no pride in Jack’s expression—only doubt.

  “I swear to God, when I sit here long enough, I can hear it laughing at me.” Jack joked.

  Charles almost smiled at how true that felt. The treasure had created more problems than either of them had foreseen. It mocked just as much as it promised.

  Silence settled between them again before Jack continued.

  “You don't have to be here, you know. I have made it clear to all involved they are to be treated fairly.”

  Jack meant to reassure him. But he didn’t understand. It was more than fairness.

  “You think if you refrain from beating them it's any better?” Charles asked.

  Jack had no answer.

  “It isn't the violence. It isn't the labor, or the hunger, or the heat, or the chains.”

  Charles knew what it was. And for the first time, he gave it voice.

  “You know what those men fear right now? It's the unknown. The lash that comes from nowhere for reasons never explained. A visit from the taskmaster in the dead of night.”

  He kept his eyes fixed forward, jaw tight.

  “But I remember that fear. Right now, I feel it returning.” Charles finally turned to look at Jack, so there would be no misunderstanding. “What we're doing here, sitting on Spain's gold on England's island, demands a response. What that response will be, what form it will take, what face it will wear...By the time we do know it, there will be no time to prepare for the blow that follows.”

  He had nothing more to add.

  They sat in silence for a long while before Charles finally bid Jack good night. Jack remained where he was, staring at the gold as though it might yet answer him.

  Charles rode back slowly to the hut, alone with his thoughts. By the time he arrived, darkness had settled thickly over the island. A candle had been left burning for him. He carried it down the narrow hall, its small flame casting long, restless shadows against the walls.

  Once in bed, he extinguished it.

  He pulled himself close against Emma’s warm body, fitting himself against her back. She murmured softly but did not wake. He closed his eyes and held her tighter, already dreading the nightmares he knew would come calling after the words he had spoken in that cavern.

  Sleep, when it came, would not be kind.