Fargo's hand moved to his sword.
The moment it did, everything changed.
Derry's voice cut across the deck like a blade. "Stations! Now!"
The crew scattered in practice precision, as though they'd been waiting for this. Every casual lean against the railing, every idle stance near a rope — all of it had been positioning.
Fargo drew his blade, blood still streaming from his nose, and lunged toward Kassie.
He didn't reach her.
Derry's massive hand caught the officer's wrist mid-swing. The grip was brutal — I heard something creak — and then Derry twisted, redirecting the momentum, and hurled Lord Fargo off the deck.
The man flew, cleared the railing and crashed onto the boarding bridge with a wooden crack. The planks splintered beneath him but held, and Fargo scrambled, trying to rise.
"Bridges!" Derry roared.
