The Sea Siren

Chapter Thirty-Nine

"I didn't come to fight you," he says, his hands raised. I turn, aiming it at him, pulling the trigger. The firing sound it makes brings the loud drunken fools' downstairs to a hush. The rooms beside this one brimming with whores trying to make a living also go silent.

Michel looks down at his arm, which bears a slice of red seeping through his clothing. A wound. Had he not jumped out of the bullets path, it would have found a place in his chest.

I smile, pleased to have left a mark.

More.

More blood. More pain.

My heart constricts tightly, suddenly like ice.

"Will you listen?!"

I lift the gun again, knowing men could come flying into this room at any moment. Unable to waste my chance here with words, I fire again, watching him tumble to the ground.

This is what I've waited for.

And in this moment, what I need isn't words of assurance from him. I don't need excuses or words of forgiveness or even more vitriol. After all this time, I'd imagined so many ways this meeting could happen.

I imagined all the ways I'd try to make him explain what he did to me.

I imagined torturing him until he begged for forgiveness... slowly... painfully.

But looking into his black eyes, there's only one thing I desire for him.

Death.

Doesn't matter if it's swift or dragged out.

But it needs to happen.

Before I send another bullet his way, he pulls my blade from the wall. I jump to avoid it, hearing him rush towards me before I feel his hands. It's vomit-inducing, his touch. My body has a physical reaction to it, my adrenaline surging.

We tumble to the ground, both of our hands wrestling the pistol. He's as strong as I remember, but he isn't full of rage as I am. I dig my nails into his hands, hearing a hiss slip through his tightly gritted teeth as the pistol loosens.

"You fucking whore," he growls hatefully, shoving his elbow upwards. 

Dodging his blow, my teeth ache as I force a maniacal smile. "I'm going to fucking kill you."

I jump onto him, slamming the butt of the pistol into his head. He grabs my hips, trying to throw me off of him but my legs constrict around him like a snake. I dig the heel of my boots into him, trying to shove the pistol into his chest but his hands are everywhere.

Heaving, I slip my finger behind the trigger.

And then I see stars. A sharp blow to the side of my face that blinds me.

That makes me gasp for air.

I feel him slipping out from under me and a desperation, the kind of desperation one rarely gets, makes me fight to remain awake, to keep my grip steady. I hear the pistol hit the wall in the chaos and lacking a weapon, my hands wrap around his throat, pinning him to the floorboards.

He scratches me, tosses me off with a greater strength than I possess, but I continue to crawl over him. I dig my fingers into his neck, blinking until my sight returns, until I can see him turning color beneath me.

He goes red at first, then white. My smile widens as his grip loosens slowly, his lips losing all color.

You won't escape.

I have you now.

It's a satisfying feeling... to feel your enemies life draining from your hands.

To feel all the hate you're forced to carry transferring into the act.

This has been my purpose. My only purpose since I was picked up on that island.

My place on the Orion has been in preparation for this very moment.

My fingers squeeze tighter, tears dripping from my eyes onto him. Tears I didn't even know I was releasing. I dig more and more, damning myself... and then hands come down on my shoulders.

Many of them.

Too many.

The pressure in my ears blurs their sounds but I scream, fighting as they pull me off of him before he's dead.

No.

Bastards! No!

They pull me onto my knees and with animalistic eyes, my gaze drifts over their uniforms up to their faces. And I realize they aren't like me at all. They aren't pirates... at all.

Fuck.

Fight, Vivian.

Fight and don't lose.

Screaming, I tear my arms out of their grasp, tumbling for a weapon. Any weapon. I feel my blade and spin, waving it towards the men violently, hearing Michel choking on air behind me.

"Fucking... get her..." he growls on all fours.

I leap for the vanity, eyes darting to the window.

Heavy boots come rushing down the hallway. Too many to take on.

I look at Michel, at his purple face swelling with anger and I have to make a choice.

I jump onto the bed, slamming open the window pane.

"NO!" he shouts.

I grit my teeth, squeezing through the hole leading to the roof. There's no time to think as I hear the hordes of officers following my path. I run. I run like mad to the edge, grabbing onto the ledge to jump.

I'm weightless for a brief moment before my feet hit the ground.

Shooting pain brings me down to my knees. I know without looking I've ruined my ankle but I pull myself up on pure adrenaline, desperate now.

Now that I know why Michel found me... why he's really here.

I reach to my waist, forgetting that I'm without my weapons.

That I'm without armor.

I hear shouting from inside the tavern and I take off down the dark alleyway. I soar through the street, practically wobbling, unable to stop. Every step gets harder but I push through it, turning the corner fast.

And I feel a blow so deafening to my eardrum that my face hits the mud within seconds.

And I can't get up.

Wetness begins to spread, warm thick fluid pooling in my hair.

I blink but my body cannot move.

Don't close your eyes.

Get up.

My vision hazy, a dark shadow covers the lantern lighting the street.

I stare up at him, gasping for breath, paralyzed.

The shadow looks off beyond me, to the boots charging through the dirt.

"Bring her to the ship," his distorted voice growls.

"No," I snarl as they grab my arms, dragging me from the ground. "No! You fucking bastards!"

I don't know how I find the strength to fight them off.

How I'm on my feet, in control of any of my limbs but I try.

I try until my world goes black.