Lir ground his teeth at the thought of being strung up by his ankles and dangled over the deck like a damn fish. It was a slow, painful way to die, but if he survived the night, he would be redeemed in the eyes of his Ballistic and his clip.

“Prepare the pendulum! He hangs at midnight!” Ballistic Ennick called. The order dismissed the clip and to Lir he said, “With me.”

Ennick turned on his heel and led Lir to the aft deck. The ship was anchored just west of one of the two largest islands of the Bone Mouth.

“Go ashore,” Ennick said, thrusting a canvas sack into Lir’s bloodied hands. “We could use the fruit and you could use a minute to clear your salt-crusted head.”

Below them, a small shore runner waited on the water. For a fleeting moment, Lir considered jumping ship and taking his chances away from the bountiful hands of the Father. Surely, Ballistic Ennick had to know he would be tempted.

“What makes you so sure I’ll come back?” he asked.

“You’re not the running type.” One side of Ennick’s mouth twitched in something more grim than a smile. “But don’t come back without something good.”

Anger bloomed in the back of Lir’s throat. He was being manipulated, toyed with, and they both knew he had no choice but to obey. Planting one foot on the rail, he climbed down to the small boat below. He revved the engine and sped toward the pale strip of beach all while a furious storm blew through his mind.

They didn’t need the food. That had been a lie. This errand was just a prelude to his punishment, forcing him to choose to return for it. It was a brutal kind of arrogance, so assured, so damned binding. Well, maybe Lir would surprise them all. Maybe he would walk to the end of this island and swim to the next, strike out on his own. What did he have to lose? His life? That was the only thing he possessed in the world and he would lose it eventually. At least if he left now, it would be on his own terms.

He dragged the boat ashore and impatiently scrubbed the blood from his hands in the shallows. He shouldn’t have let his anger get the better of him. Self-control, strength, and discretion were how he’d made his way, and how he’d planned to survive. But he’d let Tassos get under his skin, let his desire to hurt him outweigh all his careful calculations. Lir wiped his palms down the front of his shirt, suddenly uncomfortable with how easily he’d been enticed to act recklessly. There was no undoing it, and no denying that from this moment on, he’d be a target.