There’s nothing I can do at this point, and it’s only now sinking in. Swift must feel the fight leave me. Her arms relax, but she keeps her hand over my mouth, the other clenching my wetsuit. “Cas,” she warns, dropping her voice low. “He deserves this.”

Those are the last words I hear before Santa Elena pulls out the knife, and the trainer deck erupts into incoherent noise as the pirates cheer on their captain. But the trainees aren’t cheering. Lemon’s still folded up against the wall, Chuck and Varma are leaning close to each other, their faces set in stoic masks that hide what must be an ocean’s worth of turmoil, and I can feel Swift’s pounding heart against my back. This is their companion, their comrade who betrayed them and shattered the trust that had grown between them.

This is their traitorous friend, and he’s about to die.

I can’t look away.

Santa Elena takes Code by both shoulders and leans in close, whispering something that only he can hear. When she draws back, he’s crying, his face ashen, his hands limp at his sides. The captain turns the blade over in her hand, then draws it back, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

She thrusts the blade between his legs, flaying his inner thigh open, and a wash of red pours out in the knife’s wake. Femoral artery. Clean slice.

Code screams as he drains, his hands clutching the front of Santa Elena’s jacket, but all she says is, “Hush,” and his grip slips away until she shoves him backward. His arms don’t pinwheel—he flops into the NeoPacific with a wet slap, but he still struggles, still tries to swim even as the waves lift him toward Bao.

Don’t do it, you shit. Don’t you dare.

Bao tilts his head, and I can feel everyone on the deck lean forward to get a better view of the inevitable. Code has stopped screaming. He’s reduced himself to messy sobs that grow weaker and weaker with each breath he draws, and the Reckoner looms over him, beak dipping down to sample the bloodstained waters that wreathe him.

Don’t do it. Don’t—

My thoughts are worthless. Bao lunges forward, his jaws snapping shut, and then Code is in half. His torso disappears down Bao’s gullet, and it’s merciful because finally, finally, finally his sobbing stops, replaced only with the surge of the monster’s body against the sea.

I’ve never hated Bao more than I do in this moment.

Swift’s holding me so tight that she’s practically strangling me. She must feel it. Must feel how I’m a beast in my own right, waiting to strike, ready to surge at Santa Elena the second her hold lets up.