His gaze narrowed on the hatchway as if daring it to open. “Neither of us is hanging.”

A flutter tingled in my belly. That was the first time I’d ever heard a promise of my survival from his mouth.

“I have a great deal to tell you.” He paced around the bodies, his expression pensive. “First, we need to get off this ship. Finish eating.”

I choked down the remainder of the fish in seconds. “How do we get out of here?”

“I’m working on that.” He handed the knives to me and scanned the space. “When I opened that hatch and saw him with you…” His eyes burned with renewed fury, his lips twisting back from clenched teeth. “I had no plans beyond beating his face into the back of his head.”

“You achieved that quite successfully.”

He lifted the admiral’s shoulders and began to drag him toward the black hole. “I left you here, thinking you were safe, so that I could find Priest Farrell and ask for his help.” He paused, growling angrily. “I never found the bastard.”

“Wait. You wanted Priest’s help?” My pulse quickened. “For what?”

“To free you.” He resumed moving the corpse, presumably to hide it. “I was going to make him an offer.”

“What offer? Ashley, forget the body. You need to clean the blood off your face and—”

“Any second, a soldier is going to come through that hatchway looking for his officers, his admiral, or perhaps even me, because I’ve been down here longer than acceptable. I spent the day arguing my way through a dozen different lieutenants before I reached the lower deck. It’s not normal for a commodore to visit his prisoner.” He glanced over his shoulder at the black hole and scowled. “What is that smell?”

My heart sank. “That’s where they kept me.”

A vein bulged in his scarlet-smeared forehead. He dropped the admiral’s body and spun toward the hole.

“Ashley, wait!” I planted my feet, refusing to go anywhere near there. That stench would forever haunt me, and I wasn’t brave enough to breathe it again.

He crossed the threshold and staggered to a stop. His head swung toward his shoulder, and he buried his nose there, gagging and coughing.

“How long have I been down here?” I asked softly.

“Two weeks.” He gripped the door, his fingers digging into the wood, his accent slurring with rage. “You were in there for two weeks with what I can only imagine is a dead body. Two weeks I spent hunting a pirate who might as well be a ghost. No one has spotted Priest Farrell in months. I should have turned back the first day when I learned he wasn’t at the brothel. Had I done that, you wouldn’t have suffered for so goddamned—”

“Ashley, stop this. And get away from that compartment.”

“Who’s in there, Bennett?”