Page 96 of The Worst of Them

Behind her, the captain rushed from his office as a slew of constables and Spanish soldiers flooded in through the hole Fiero had just blown into the wall.

“Vayan!” the captain shouted, pointing toward the main house. Jack pulled Cecily out of the way as the man sprinted past, yelling commands as he and the guards pursued Fiero and Morgyn.

Jack grabbed Cecily’s hand, and they hurried to the office where Fiero and Morgyn had emerged. The entire far wall was gone, the garden swarming with soldiers—and fire.

Everything was on fire.

Jack swore, fear flashing through his eyes in the glow of the flames.

Cecily pulled him back, eager to follow Morgyn. “This way,” she said, leading him the way everyone else had gone.

Cecily’s knife a murderous weight in her hand. Leave it to Morgyn to ruin everything—especially in Cecily’s coat, that thieving bitch.

Another blast went off, and they turned a corner into a hall lined with tapestries to find it burning too, fire eating up the colorful art and coating the ceiling with smoke. Shouts came from deeper in the house, toward the front, where the others would need to pass to get back to the meeting spot.

His grip on her hand tightened. “They’ll find their way out,” he said, and beneath the shadow of his hat, his fear gave way to wild excitement. “We’ll find ours.” He looked at her. “Trust me?”

Breathless, she nodded once.

Together, they ran for the end of the hall, dodging sparks and flames. The yelling grew louder, and when they emerged into the main foyer, they found the other six pirates, strapped with weapons and fighting constables and soldiers that Morgyn and Fiero had led right to them.

Red flashed—Morgyn and that damn coat. At the sight of it, Cecily’s rage roared to life, her focus narrowing on that burst of red and the knives in her hands.

Jack stepped in front of her, his hand on the back of her neck as he blocked her view.

“Keep your head,” he ordered, having noticed the way she glared at Morgyn. “We stay together and get out of here alive.”

“Fine,” she snapped. She reached for his gun, shoving Morgyn from her mind for the sake of getting out of this house before it came down around them.

Jack fell back to her side, his hand dropping to grab one of the small knives at her thigh. A breath passed as they marked their targets, and, together, they began.

She lifted the gun and squeezed the trigger. At it exploded, he lobbed the knife. Two constables cried out in pain, one grabbing at his dominant arm, the other dropping as his bleeding leg gave out.

Cecily quickly stepped ahead and spun in front of Jack to grab his sword with her other hand as he dipped, plucking another knife from her boot, a second from her leg, neither of them missing a beat as they picked off one soldier after another. Jack sliced through limbs, retrieving the blades as he neared those he’d thrown them into. With his sword and gun, Cecily held off the guards charging for them, careful to leave them with wounds they’d survive—hopefully—as she and Jack cut a bloody trail toward their friends.

On the far side of the room, Morgyn and Fiero slipped out the front doors, their arms full of riches.

“They’re getting away!” Cecily cried over the din. Everything in her screamed to give chase, but there was no easy path to follow.

“Later!” Jack called to her. He threw a knife into a soldier’s throat. “Survive this and then you may pursue murder, or I will buy you a thousand coats!”

When they reached their friends, the eight of them took off for the front doors. Killian and Fay headed the group, their faces bloody as they cut through anyone who dared step in their way. Behind them were Greyson and Hester with axes and cleavers, then came Frederick and Maria, brandishing clubs and bludgeoning anyone who came too close.

Last were Jack and Cecily, pointed and precise with every step they took, holding off any guards who followed. Once outside, they fled through the courtyard, the house’s windows glowing with flames as they tore down the lane, through the gates, and into the road.

Morgyn was long gone, but Cecily looked for her anyway. Her eyes scanned the darkness, her ears straining for voices other than those of the pursuing soldiers.

As they ran, Jack flung off his hat and coat, leaving them stranded in the road. Then he reached for her hand, and they plunged into the haunted forest.

“Watch your feet!” Jack called. There was no trail to lead the way through the darkness. She strained to see the roots and rocks threatening to trip her, and instead watched Jack’s feet, attempting to place her steps over his as they ran.

Then—and she couldn’t be sure if her mind or the moonlight played tricks on her—the forest began to shift.

A path appeared from nowhere, the bushes and trees jumping out of the way to let them pass before snapping back into place, tangling roots and sharp rocks rising to protect their trail from the soldiers who were left to crash through the choking underbrush.

Then came the screaming. Wet, terrified, bloody shrieks that pierced the night and flushed Cecily with cold. She nearly tripped, but Jack caught her before she could tumble to the ground.

“Don’t look back,” he said, pulling her faster.