A few feet away, Ashley swung his fists and elbows, knocking off the men only to be attacked and overpowered again. They wrestled him to the ground, and his gaze stayed with me, his fight driven by one single purpose. I saw it in his eyes. His determination to protect me.

Then his attention jumped to something over my shoulder. His expression warped, transforming from a man into a savage animal as he bellowed and wrestled, attempting to crawl forward.

In a flash of steel, a blade caught me under the chin. My stomach plunged.

“I’ll take her head.” The unfamiliar English accent came from behind me, deeply male and decisively triumphant. “Move a single muscle and she dies.”

Ashley’s face went ghost white, his fingers digging into the dirt. Lying on his chest on the ground with two roguish brutes on his back, he had no choice but capitulate.

My lungs panted as I strained my range of sight to the side. In my periphery was the solid cupped hilt of a cutlass, held fast by a calloused seafarer’s hand.

Pirate.

As the blade pressed against my throat, I knew I’d lost my freedom the very day I’d gained it.

“State your purpose, pirate.” My voice splintered, and I coughed, fighting dizziness. “Who are you?”

“You don’t remember us?” The bearded bastard holding Ashley threw back his head and laughed. “I look forward to reminding you.”

Ashley stared at them, his eyes shining with recognition and horror. Then his entire demeanor hardened with raw, bone-chilling rage.

“The ship…” Without moving my neck, I flicked my gaze toward the shore, shaking with fresh outrage. “It’s HMS Blitz, isn’t it?”

“She’s Blitz, all right. But no longer His Majesty’s Ship.” The man with the cutlass gave me a nudge in the back. “On your feet. The captain’s not going to believe his eyes when he sees you.”

Captain Madwulf MacNally.

Nausea rose, roiling with dread.

I didn’t look at Ashley as I stumbled to stand. I couldn’t bear to see the misery, fury, grief—whatever must have been twisting his expression.

My captor held me up and helped me walk, for my head weighed too heavily on my shoulders. They used sashes and leather straps from their waists to bind our hands at our backs. Ashley was kept behind me, both of us escorted with pistols and blades. Weapons they’d pilfered from the armory on Ashley’s ship.

The march through the wilderness passed in a blurry fog. At some point, I emptied my stomach, losing every bite of orange I’d ingested. Consciousness floated away, pulling, but I hung onto it by a thread.

Soon the low-growing plants beneath my feet gave way to sand. Sunlight pierced shards of agony through my eyes as I took in the coastline. And there she sat, far off down the beach.

Blitz.