“So calling me the ball and chain rings true!”
McGrath bellowed his anguish. “Why, Mary?”
Her cutlass sang into its sheath. “I’m a better leader than you and you know it. You stopped listening, McGrath!”
He lunged forward, but the shackle held and he fell.
She knelt. “To the plank? Or would you prefer I made this quick?” He made a grab for his knife. She had it faster, opened his jugular, his gurgled expiration.
“Quick, then.” She palmed his eyes closed. “Him spat from the sea, his salt to return. Ashes to silt.” She sniffed. “I’ll miss ya, Love.”