Evan kneels on one leg next to the sofa. He leans forward, placing one arm on the ground for support and exposing his back to the whip. Avery looks away. She can't bear to watch this barbaric part of the game.

There's a loud crack as the whip hits Evan's back. Andrew is using all his strength. Avery digs her nails into her palms and bites her tongue. It feels like Andrew is whipping her heart.

"Do you want to play again?" Andrew asks, putting the whip down.

Evan stands and nods. He walks back to the sofa with his back straight and his arms at his sides as if the whipping was nothing. He sits down, and his face is still calm and unreadable.

Rebecca gives him a worried look and asks, "Evan, are you okay?"

He ignores her question and slides the dice cup across the table to Andrew. Andrew shakes it, making the dice rattle and clatter against the inside of the cup. He puts the cup on the table and makes his guess: six ones. He opens the cup, and Avery leans forward to see—there are six ones.

"Mrs. Clifford, don't you agree? I have tremendous luck?" Andrew asks, kissing her on the cheek.

Avery pulls away, and Andrew gets up and takes the whip. Evan gets into the same position—half-kneeling on the floor. Avery closes her eyes as the whip cracks, biting her lower lip until she tastes blood. She doesn't understand how Andrew has such good luck—the odds are impossibly low.

Andrew sits down on the sofa, sliding close to Avery. He reaches for the dice cup and gives it a quick shake as Evan stands and walks back to his sofa. Though Evan doesn't look like he's in pain, Avery can't bear the thought of him suffering another blow from the whip.

"Why don't you let me roll them this time?" Avery says, taking the cup from Andrew.

Andrew smirks and says, "Are you sure you're interested in playing?"

Avery nods and starts to shake the cup. She has trouble believing that Andrew is lucky enough to have guessed two extremely rare rolls. She wonders if there's something fishy about the game—some way he's cheating. If he's cheating, his luck will change as soon as she starts rolling the dice. But if he's just lucky at dice, Evan doesn't stand a chance.

Andrew puts his hand on top of her, forcing her to stop shaking the cup. She turns to glare at him and finds that his face is just inches from hers. She can smell the mint on his breath

"Kiss me, and I'll let you roll," he whispers.

Avery glares at him. He never tires of trying to force her to kiss him. She knows he's just doing it because Evan is here. She presses her lips together and shakes her head once.

"Mrs. Clifford likes playing coy," Andrew says with a smirk in Evan's direction.

Avery grinds her teeth and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. She pulls away as if his skin has burned her lips, but he grabs her hand and kisses each one of her knuckles. His lips linger slow and warm as he moves them across her hand.

"You're my good luck charm, Mrs. Clifford," he says. "I have to treat you well."

Avery snatches her hand away and shakes the cup hard. The dice rattle inside, and she tries to keep her expression calm; Andrew stares at her with bright eyes, as if he wants to read her thoughts. She flips the cup over and puts it down on the table, unable to meet the men's eyes. The men call their numbers, and she peeks under the edge of the cup—Evan has won.

Andrew looks under the cup and says, "I thought you were my lucky charm. What happened?"

Evan's mouth twitches, and he looks under the cup. His smile widens when he sees the numbers, and he stands slowly and grabs the whip. Andrew kneels down on one leg and supports himself with his hands, waiting for the whip to fall across his back.

Evan raises his arm in the air and brings the whip down as hard as he can. Avery flinches, but her reflexes are too slow—she sees Andrew shudder with pain as the whip hits him. Andrew stands slowly and looks at Avery. His face is pale, and his jaw is clenched. Suddenly, Avery remembers the wounds on his back from the ship. They're only a few days old, and the whip must have reopened some of them.

Avery frowns and looks away. I shouldn't waste time feeling guilty about this, she thinks. After all, Andrew started this game, and he needs to suffer the consequences. I know he saved my life, but I can't stand by and let him hurt Evan—especially if he's cheating to do it. Despite her thoughts, her stomach churns with guilt.

"Do you feel sorry for me now?" Andrew whispers into her ear.

She nudges him in the ribs with her elbow and slides further down the sofa. He slides next to her and wraps one arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. He nuzzles his nose into the space below her ear, and she clenches her hands into fists.

"Mrs. Clifford, please roll again," Andrew says.

Avery grabs the dice cup and shakes it carelessly. The game disgusts her, and she wants it to end as soon as possible, but the men seem determined to continue. She looks around the room and notices that Rebecca has slipped out. She wishes she could leave too, but she's half-worried they'll play to the death if there's no one around to stop them.

Andrew wins the next round, but then he loses the following one. Each time the men whip each other, she closes her eyes and presses her hands over her ears. She can still hear the awful crack of the whip and the heavy breathing of the loser.

After thirteen rounds, the men are almost even: Andrew has had six whippings, and Evan has had seven. Andrew's face is pale and covered in sweat, and Avery can only imagine how bad his back must look. The back of Evan's suit-coat is torn, but his face is a frozen mask. Avery can't tell if he's in as much pain as Andrew.

Avery looks out the window and sees that the lightning has stopped. The rain falls in a light sprinkle, and the clouds seem lighter than before. She grabs the dice cup off the table and puts it in her lap.

"The rain is letting up," she says. "I think it's time for us to go now."

Andrew shakes his head and says, "But we've only just begun. I think we have to continue. What do you say, Evan?"

"Let's play," Evan says.

Avery shakes her head and says, "No, this is insanity. You both need to stop. Andrew, come on, let's go."

"Are you tired, honey?" Andrew asks. "I'm sure Rebecca can find you someplace to rest while we finish our game."

Avery bites her lip and looks between the men. Their faces are set with grim determination, and their eyes flash with the intensity of their hatred. She knows there's no way she can force them to stop playing.

"Fine," she says. "If you want to continue this barbaric game, you can. But I'm going to stand in for you, Andrew. When you lose, I'll take the whipping for you."

She stands up and drops the dice cup onto the coffee table before kneeling down on the floor. Andrew scowls and grabs her arm, pulling her to her feet.

"That's ridiculous," he says. "You're a woman, and you're pregnant. A whipping could make you miscarry for god's sake!"

Evan stares at her with a furious look. His eyes burn with rage, and he jumps to his feet. He kicks the table over, and the dice cup falls to the ground, spilling dice in all directions. She smiles to herself. Even though Evan doesn't care about me, he still cares about the baby, she thinks. I knew he wouldn't let me take the whipping.

Rebecca runs into the room, and her face freezes in shock when she sees the ruined coffee table. She races to Evan's side and whispers something into his ear before leading him out of the room. His back is stiff and cold as he passes Avery on his way out. She stares at him as he goes.