Chapter 24:

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Kaz watched Pekka Rollins as he held the ankle of a thrashing Albie in his gloved hands. 

He felt that hot rage, shoot through him threatening to tear him apart. And Kaz would not let that happen. 

He gritted his teeth and settled his eyes on the only thing that was now keeping him standing. 

Inej sat, perched on the prow, still even though the boat was moving up and down with the tide. 

Her prayers now turned to Kerch ones, Kerch prayers to Ghezen for mercy. He looked at her, ignoring Pekka Rollins' begging of not doing anything or even his disappearance from the earth. 

He waited for Inej to meet his gaze, meet the monster he was now.

Inej chanted her prayers softer, her eyes on the bottom of the boat. There was times like this when she, yes, she doubted. But she knew that the Saints had their reasons. She felt Kaz's unwavering eyes on her and she lifted her eyes to fall into the bitter coffee well of his. 

It was like he was asking for her approval. 

Inej knew that in times like this, Kaz was battling his demons. She looked into that bitter well and tilted her head, letting him know that whatever he was doing, if he really was going to sacrifice the life of an innocent boy, she would not forgive him. She hoped, really hoped that Kaz was messing around like last time. 

Albie continued to struggled. She let Kaz know that her presence was there and now she closed her eyes and waited for the sound of water. 

Kaz knew now, what he was going to do, after staring in Inej's eyes. 

He looked at Zoya who nodded and Nikolai who didn't. 

And then he looked at the night sky, dark and cloudy, with only a thin slice of the moon peaking out. He looked at the shore with small woody marshes and a road leading back to the city. 

And he dropped the wailing Albie overboard. 

Inej started forward as Pekka Rollins lunged himself over the boat. 

Nikolai held both members back. 

Pekka Rollins gave a little cry, a cry that made Kaz's hair stand on end and blacked out, overwhelmed by what he just saw. 

Kaz knew that feeling, that well of hatred and sorrow, threatening to drown you. 

He smiled. 

Pekka Rollins would not be sad, he'd be raging, and after all, it was this path of grief. 

For what is grief but love preserving?

But, no time for philosophy,  the show must go on. 

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