“Go with them,” he ordered.

Juliette shook her head. “No, Marco—”

“I know.” His gaze flicked away from her, but not before she caught the pain in them. It radiated along the set slant of his jaw and ticked in the muscle in his cheek. “He’s not around anymore.”

Juliette tensed. “Did … did you…?”

Killian looked away, his jaw set. “No, he did it himself. Guilt and shame, I guess.”

She didn’t want to know what that meant, but she had a feeling that hurt Killian more than Marco’s betrayal had.

“Come with me,” she urged. “We’ll phone the police and—”

Frank stepped into the space behind Arlo, his massive frame filling the threshold.

“The ship has been cleared, sir. There were only the…” he trailed off as he studied the unmoving bodies strewn throughout the place with more than a little surprise. “Five men,” he finished lamely.

Killian nodded. “Get everyone restrained. Take Juliette to a car and drive her to the hospital straightaway. I will meet you there once I am finished here.”

“No!” Juliette turned to him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It was ridiculous, only moments earlier, she couldn’t wait to get off that ship without a body bag. But she knew if she left, Killian would kill Cyril and all his men and, while they might deserve it, they didn’t deserve that piece of him. There had already been too much killing. It needed to stop. Someone needed to make it stop.

“You need to be seen,” Killian said firmly.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “But please don’t do this. There has already been so much bloodshed and pointless deaths and it will never stop if you don’t stop it.”

“I say kill him,” Arlo piped in, his gun barrel never wavering from Cyril, who had struggled to his feet, his face bloody and his pretty suit ruined. His right eye had already swollen shut. “Toss him overboard and let someone find him in the spring.”

Killian never took his eyes off Juliette, his features thoughtful, his gaze searching. “If I let him live, he will come back. He will never stop. This is the only way.”

“No!” Her fingers tightened on his sleeves. “No, just call the police, let them take him in. I will testify. I will make sure he goes in—”

“He won’t stay there forever, Juliette,” Killian broke in. “And he deserves to die for what he did to you.”

And Molly and Maraveet, the voice in her head chimed.

“He and his family don’t deserve another piece of you,” she whispered. “Don’t give him what he wants.”

Killian frowned. “Family?”

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Cyril’s voice broke through the silence that followed Juliette’s plea. “You can almost believe for a moment that she really could save you.”

Killian raised his eyes over Juliette’s head and pinned them on the man standing five feet away. He seemed to really be looking at him for the first time. Juliette couldn’t help wondering if he’d even said two words to Cyril before beating the shit out of him.

“Who…?” It seemed to dawn on him slowly. She could see the confusion melting into shock and confusion. The lines deepened as his eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted into his hairline. “Erik Yolvoski. How is this possible? You’re dead.”

Cyril smirked around a swollen mouth. “Perhaps I am a ghost.” He spread his arms out to his sides. “How else can I possibly be here, hmm?”

Killian’s shock wore down to annoyance that tightened the corners of his mouth. “I was at your funeral. I watched them put you into the ground.”

Cyril blinked. His head bent to one side as he regarded Killian with a new sort of suspicion.

“You went?” His lips curled back. “Why? To gloat?”

“You were fifteen. What pleasure was I to derive from your death?” Killian countered. “I went to pay my respects to a child who died too soon.”

“Or was it guilt?” Cyril spat back. Blood dribbled from his lip in a long, pinkish ooze of spit to stain his ruined top. “After all, you were the reason I needed to die, needed to erase myself from the world and start fresh.”

Killian’s shoulders lifted in a deep inhale that flared his nostrils. “I can’t help being disappointed,” he said at last, sadness weaving through the tight confession. “In my mind, I always saw you as that thirteen year old boy who threw himself in front of danger to protect his mother. The boy with so much potential. I honestly believed you would better yourself, change the course laid out before you. I thought perhaps seeing what happened would show you just how senseless this life really is. But here you are, doing exactly what your father would have.”

“My father was a great man!” Cyril snarled through clenched teeth. “He was a loving father and a good husband and he—”

“Died begging for his life!” Killian interjected with a snarl. “He was a coward. He was a murderer, a rapist, and a coward. You might have turned him into a martyr to justify the things you have done, but you could have been better. I had hoped you would be better.” Dark eyes snapped over and found Juliette’s. They exchanged silent glances for a full minute before he faced Cyril once more. “I would like nothing better than to kill you. The world is a horrible enough place without you in it. Fortunately for you, Juliette has appointed herself the savior of my soul and she has asked me to let you live. So, I will. For now. But you will not leave this ship in one piece—” He ignored Juliette squeak of protest. “—not even Juliette will save you there. It will be the sort of pain you cannot even imagine. I can promise that. I will make sure you regret ever touching her and when I am done, I will dedicate my life to watching your every move very closely. If I get so much as a whisper of something I don’t like, I will personally put a bullet through your head. Do you understand?”

The frothing fury swirling around Cyril crackled like livewires, but it was splintered with fear. Sparks flashed across his eyes and the look on his face was sheer rage in its purest form.

“Tamed,” he hissed around a disgusted curl of his lips. “The great Killian McClary, the Scarlet Wolf, the monster everyone speaks of in hushed whispers, tamed by his bitch. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You are weak and so long as you are, your kingdom will crumble down around you while you lay dying amongst the rubble. I might not be the one to end you, but I will relish the day you die.”

Juliette didn’t know what possessed her. Maybe it was being tortured for the last several weeks. Maybe it was being called a bitch, or maybe it was just to shut him up, but she was marching forward before she knew it. Her arm snapped back and she drove five balled fingers of hatred straight into the delicate line of his slender jaw. The impact sang up her arm in a flurry of pain, but the snap of his teeth, the crack of his neck as his head flew back was a sound she would bask in for a very long time. He crashed to the floor with a weak cry. Fresh blood welled over his puffy lip and dribbled down his chin and she hoped she’d broken a few of his teeth.

“That’s for Molly,” she decided. “And this…” She pulled back her leg and let it swing forward with all her strength behind it right between his legs. The sound he made was one of air being let out of a balloon. His entire face went a frightening shade of purple and red as he curled onto his side, clutching his gut. In that state, he was neither beautiful nor regal. He was pathetic. “That’s for Maraveet.”

Satisfied, she turned and hurried back to the patio doors, so ready to get the hell off that stupid boat. Arlo, Frank, and Killian watched her as she joined them. Arlo’s gun wielding arm dropped down to his side now that there was no one to point it at. His expression was something between amused and impressed. Frank had no expression at all, but his eyes did twinkle, which made her feel good. Killian simply met her gaze, the dark fire in his eyes shot through with a liquid heat she recognized as arousal. She said nothing to any of them as she hurried out onto the deck.