Rain drummed hard on the ferry shack's roof, seeping into the ropes around Ella's wrists. Every pull scraped her skin raw. Liam hummed under his breath, sorting through a small crate of stolen weapons like a man setting the table for dinner.
“You've still got time to be useful," he said without looking up.
She tested the knots again—tight, deliberate, no slack. “I'm not the one who's useless here."
His head snapped up. “You think you're strong because Gilbert lets you walk beside him?"
“I think I'm strong because I survived you," she said.
---
The words landed heavier than she expected. For a heartbeat, his mouth worked without sound. Then he smiled, slow and ugly. “We'll see how you survive the rogues when they're not on a leash."
He turned to the door, peering into the wet dark as
