Kira came down after me and set her waterproof case between her feet as the officer at the helm threw the engines into reverse.

The twin props churned the harbor into a white lather and pulled us steadily away.

Up on the main deck, the Whitcombes had lined themselves along the stern rail — the exact rail where Theodora had shoved me a quarter of an hour before — and Callum stared down at me with his mouth slightly open and his hands hanging useless at his sides.

The wind blew my salt-damp hair across my face and I did not push it back.

And I noticed, taking stock the way I always do, that I did not feel what I had half-expected to feel.

I was not angry.