Page 20 of Heart of the Deep

“If that was true, you’d be helping me, not fighting me every step of the way.”

“I have done everything you asked!” she screamed. “Everything! Butthis, I will not do. I will not make myself into the monster you’ve become!”

Nicholas shoved himself around the table and loomed over her, grabbing the front of her shirt. “You will recant that statement and apologize to meimmediately.”

Larkin glared at him. “No.”

“Maybe I’ve been too easy on you. Sheltered you too much. Maybe I should show you what’s supposed to happen when you oppose your commander.”

“What would Mother think if she saw you now?”

“What did you just say?” The unstable gleam in his eyes intensified.

“This is not the man she loved,” Larkin said, throat tight. Despite her anger, tears filled her eyes. “This is not my father.”

His face reddened, and he raised his free hand, curling his fingers into a fist.

Something in Larkin broke. Her father had never raised a hand to her, would never have considered it. He’d always been a hard man, but he’d never been cruel. She mourned for the man she’d known.

Seconds passed; she didn’t know if he’d follow through and hit her, but she didn’t care. He needed to see what he’d become reflected in her eyes.

After what felt like forever, he shoved her back, releasing his hold, and turned away. “Get out of here before I do something I’ll regret.” His voice was low, quivering with anger.

Larkin stepped back until she reached the door. She opened it and paused.

“You should already regret the things you’ve done,” she said quietly before exiting. She pulled the door closed behind her.

There was a crash on the other side, followed by a furious yell.

Chapter 6

Larkin closed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Night had fallen, and her father and his men had finished theirquestioninglong ago. Her stomach clenched as the conversation from the night before replayed in her mind. Had her father followed through with his plans?

She held onto a shred of hope that she had changed his mind, but it was a foolish hope; she didn’t think he was so far gone as to be beyond reason, but his pride was still strong enough to crush his conscience. He’d always avoided displaying weakness in front of his rangers, and men like Brock, Sanson, and Altez seemed to think mercy was a weakness.

She hated that her father cared more about his pride than his humanity.

Larkin left her room, closing the door quietly behind her, and made her way up to the deck. Strong gusts of wind battered the ship, rustling the partially raised sails and whistling through the rigging. She swept loose strands of hair out of her face, wishing she’d braided it, and shivered against the biting chill.

The deck was empty save for a few men from The Watch, a goggled lookout at each end of the ship, and Lance Oliver, who stood guard at the entrance to the brig. The young ranger’s half-lidded eyes and slouching stance suggested he was close to falling asleep.

He stood at attention as Larkin approached. “Ranger Laster. You’re out late tonight.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about Randall and his men, and how close we are to finding them.”

“We’ll find them.” Lance offered a kind smile. The genuineness of the gesture caught Larkin off guard.

“Thank you, Lance,” she said, stepping closer to peck a kiss on his cheek. It was low of her, using such tactics. “I’ll be right back up after I’m done questioning them.”

He stared at her, wide-eyed, as he blushed; even his ears turned red. “Be careful, Larkin.”

Below deck, she retrieved the hanging lantern and carried it into the brig. She squeezed her eyes shut as the scent of blood mixed with the other ship smells. The little girl inside her feared what she might find and refused to believe that her father was capable of such brutality as he’d threatened.

Steeling herself, she walked to Dracchus’s cell and placed the lantern on the floor.

His slitted amber eyes rose to meet her gaze, but she shifted her attention to his dark skin, searching for the lacerations and stab wounds she expected to find. Despite his slow, labored breathing, the only open wounds she could see were on his face.

“Did they use weapons today?” she asked, barely keeping her voice from trembling.

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