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!ATTENTION READERS!
This chapter contains sensitive topics, including SA. If you are easily triggered, I recommend skipping over the majority of this chapter, if not the entire chapter.
If you've ever been a victim or have experienced SA, know you are so strong and brave. I'm always available to talk if you need it. Love you all!
-Author
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My hair -down and loose on my shoulders- was yanked back, taking me with it.
My body collided with Dariel's who wrapped one of his enormous arms around my torso and biceps, pinning me to his chest. He was gripping my hair so tight, it felt as though it would rip from my skull, and his breath on the side of my face made me grimace.
"Some assassin you are," he chuckled, pulling my hair so my head went further back. I winced as I was forced to look up at the ceiling. "I'm going to take my time with ya." Not letting his grip loosen, Dariel quickly took the blades from my waist and threw them to the right.
"Why?" I rasped. It was a genuine question. If this was going to be my death, I at least wanted to know why.
"'Cause," Dariel grinned, "I'll get good money to turn ya in, even dead." His mouth was to my ear. "But I figured I'd have a little fun with ya before driving a knife through ya heart." I scoffed.
"Well aren't you just a treat? You tell all the girls that?" I said sourly. Dariel laughed.
"Only the one worth millions, love."
I hadn't had time to process my head being thrown forward. It collided with something hard, maybe a wooden box, making me immediately fold to the floor. My vision began spinning and I lost feeling of my limbs. Twice, something else hit my face, more than likely a fist, nearly knocking me unconscious.
When I came to my surroundings, I realized I'd been gagged. I heard the sound of leather against metal; a belt being taken off. Dariel was straddling me, his movements quick as he began working on his pants.
Though I was dizzy, I forced my brain to work.
A punch would only blindside him and with me under him, that'd probably do more harm than good. I didn't have any of my weapons, and I was already injured with little to no strength left. If I cried out against the gag, Dariel would find some way to shut me up. If I fought, he would too.
Even so, I let my hand twitch toward my body. I had to fight. The other option was not one I was willing to take.
I waited until he dipped his head down low when he thought I was unconscious, and jabbed my arm up with all the strength I had left. My hand hit his throat, hit the pressure point, and broke his windpipe.
Dariel began choking on air. I watched him as he died.
I caught my breath, letting the shock and adrenaline flow from me. Rolling over to my side, I began coughing and ripping the gag from my mouth, stopping only to clutch my stomach. My shirt was still hiked up, exposing my stomach, and my pants had been unbuttoned and pulled down slightly. When I opened my eyes, I saw a few blood droplets on the ground. Reaching up, I touched my nose that slowly dribbled with blood. Thankfully, it wasn't broken, but it still hurt like hell.
I glanced over to Dariel and forced myself to my feet, pushing off of weak arms, and fastening my pants. If word got out that I killed one of Devolan's men, we all could be killed. It wouldn't matter if it was in self-defense, that was if they even believed me. Even the body of a dead man held greater power than a woman. The only one that would believe me would be Rafe. Yes. I needed to find Rafe.
Quickly, a plan spun in my head. I bent down and used my shirt to wipe up the few droplets of blood I'd bled. After, I navigated my way through the ship, being thorough to not let anyone see me. When I reached the berth -luckily no one was in there- I quickly grabbed a cloth, a thermos filled with water, and a clean shirt. I hid in one of the vacant rooms and cleaned myself up until I was almost sure there wasn't a spot of blood on me.
Once finished, I went up to the deck, making sure to hide my face from any crew members. Rafe and Sophie were talking by the mainmast. I cussed, knowing once I roped Rafe into this, Sophie would have to be too.
"I need to talk with you two," I told them gruffly. "Come with me." Without question, but with a glance at each other, they followed me to the vacant bow of the ship.
When I turned to face them, when I showed my face, Sophie gasped. "What happened-?"
"Shut up and listen," I interrupted, blunter than I'd intended, looking over their shoulders to make sure we were alone. Rafe's eyes were dark, all humor from his face gone.
"Who?" He asked. I ignored him.
"If anyone asks either of you, Rafe and I were sparring, okay? We sparred this afternoon after lunch and then I was with both of you all day."
Sophie was still taken aback, grasping for words. "O-okay, sure, but why?"
I exhaled. "You're going to hear this anyway, so it should be from me-."
"Dariel is dead!" A voice yelled from down on the deck. We all turned to it, and my head began spinning again. No, no, no. "Dariel is dead!" It yelled again. A loud commotion began down on the deck. Slowly, Sophie and Rafe turned to me.
"Oh my god," Sophie breathed, taking a step back from me. My jaw set.
"Did you...?" Rafe started. I didn't answer him but swallowed hard.
"Please," I pleaded. "Tell them I was with you, or we're all dead." Rafe looked at Sophie then at me. They nodded tightly, and I exhaled.
Here we go, I thought, overseeing the commotion, watching all the anxious crewmen crowd around the one who'd found him. Devolan stepped out of the crowd, demanding what was going on, commanding order to be brought. When she found out, I saw her freeze with denial, the first stage of grief.
It was no secret that she and Dariel were together. Why else would she make an inexperienced and foreign man her first mate? Why else would she slip away at conveniently the same time Dariel was nowhere to be found? If not for love, it was for the craving of warmth and body, of touch.
I knew she'd be heartbroken, and I knew she'd try to mask it with a brave face. Still, I looked down at my friend, one of the strongest people I knew, and I didn't feel an ounce of remorse for what I'd done. I knew I should, but I didn't. He could rot in hell for all I cared.
If I told her I'd killed him, she wouldn't let me get two words out before she'd have her crew kill me savagely, before she severed me into small pieces. That information might be the thing to send her over the edge.
So I'd hold my secrets close and hope to god they never came out.
Unfortunately, I've never had much luck with secrets.
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A day went by.
The story was Dariel had a heart attack while moving crates. Even with the bruising on his neck, people seemed to take this explanation. Pirates weren't exactly doctors, and they assumed the only thing plausible with no blood or puncture wounds. Many pirates die from overworking and heatstroke. Thankfully, no one thought Dariel was an exception.
Of course, my bruised face had granted questions from the crew, but after seeing mine and Rafe's story line up, and with Sophie as a witness to it all, the questions ceased.
They held a memorial for Dariel. Everyone was there, paying their respects. The few closest to him said a few words, shared a few memories. Then his body was dumped into the ocean, his home for the rest of eternity or, well, until sharks got his body.
When the rum was passed out, when the somber mood changed to one of remembrance, I climbed down to the berth to sneak away, even if just for a little bit. The loud noises from the crew made my head throb. I knew I had a minor concussion, but I tried to hide it as best as I could, meaning I stayed in the berth during the day.
Sorin was sitting on his hammock, holding a white shirt in his hands. Funny. I don't remember him leaving, I thought, brows drawn. Actually, now that I think about it, I never saw him there at all.
His head was bowed, his eyes clouded. "I've never seen you miss out on free drinks," I said. Sorin didn't respond, didn't even acknowledge my presence. I took a step further but stopped abruptly. My jaw went slack, leaving my mouth hanging open slightly. There, in his hand, was a bloody shirt.
My bloody shirt.
"Tell me, assassin," he said finally, his voice incensed, "what really happened to Dariel?"
Though my pulse quickened, I adopted a contemptuous look. "He had a heart attack," I told him with certainty, my voice smooth. "Or, at least, that's what I heard."
Flashing his vile smirk, sinister and dark, Sorin stood. "I think we both know that's not true." Lips turning down, I observed Sorin's slant, drunken eyes, and frizzled hair.
"You're drunk," I said.
"And you're avoiding the question," he said back, lips curling. "What did you do to Dariel?" His voice had raised. I looked back to the door, making sure no one else had decided to escape the festivities, hoping no one had heard.
"Keep your damn voice down," I hissed.
"Or what?" Sorin bit back. "Going to kill me the same way you did Dariel? Break his windpipes then make it look like a heart attack?!"
Surging forward, my body trembling with rage, I snatched my bloodied shirt from Sorin's hands and shoved him back. "Be quiet, you fucking asshole," I grunted. Sorin stumbled back but didn't advance on me.
"I'm the asshole?" He asked as I stormed over to our chest.
"Yes," I seethed, burying my shirt into the pile of crumpled clothes and knives and other knick-knacks. Sorin threw his hands up in anger.
"Please tell me how I'm the asshole after you killed a man in cold blood." I ignored him and kept slamming things around. "Was it just because you got bored? Restless? Because you hadn't killed anybody in a week?" I could tell my face was flushed. It matched the beating of my heart and my prickled skin.
"It was out of self-defense," I spat over my shoulder. Sorin scoffed.
"What? Did he look at you wrong?!" I didn't respond. "Please tell me, so I know the monster I'm dealing with!" Though rage still surged through me, I forced myself to breathe. In and out. One to ten. My hands clenched the side of our chest. Behind me, I heard Sorin's heavy breaths.
Slowly, I stood and turned toward him. "Fine," I breathed. "But you have to promise to calm down." Sorin stared me down. After a moment, he nodded.
"Deal."
I calmed myself again. "Dariel was like many men in this world who have their eyes on two things: women and money." I paused to gauge Sorin's reaction. His expression was blank. "I let my guard down. I allowed him an opportunity. He planned to kill me and collect the Targaryen bounty on my head. Now, think me a monster all you want, call me a liar, but that's what happened. And I don't regret it." I expected Sorin to spat another insult at me or yell at me, but he didn't. The anger was even in his eyes, pure, hot rage. He didn't unleash it on me. Something passed through his eyes.
"Did he...?" I clenched my jaw at the question which he hadn't needed to finish for me to understand.
"I killed him before he got too far." There was a still moment between us. Sorin's eyes roved over my face.
"He did that to you?" I swallowed down the lump in my throat that threatened to rise but kept Sorin's gaze.
"Don't tell anyone. We are one step closer -I am one step closer- to pulling this off, so don't expose us. Not now." Sorin's eyes gleamed. I watched his fists clench.
"Be glad you killed him, Vera," he raged, voice gravelly, "because if you hadn't, I would've skinned him alive slowly and forced him to watch me feed his body parts to the sharks. I wouldn't have given him a merciful death." My brows drew together with slight confusion. Sorin hated me. I hated Sorin. So what the hell had changed so much that now he wanted Dariel to be alive just so he could kill him again for touching me?
"You didn't answer my question," was all I said in response.
"That happened to you and all you're worried about is this stupid mission?" He asked. The gentleness in his voice took me by surprise. Scarcely had I ever heard it.
"It doesn't matter. I'm alive, he's dead." Sorin just looked at me for many long seconds. There were so many emotions in his expression, I couldn't decode them all.
"Vera-." Sorin was cut off by Rafe helping Carter limp into the room. They both looked at us, confused.
"What's going on here?" Rafe asked. "A drinking intervention?"
"None of your damn business," Sorin and I said simultaneously. Rafe helped Carter into a hammock and held his hands up as if surrendering.
"Fine, fine, keep your secrets. Just keep it PG for Carter." On the hammock, foot raised, Carter blushed. His hair was slick back with sweat yet he was shivering from the cold.
"Go away," Sorin said, "the adults are talking." With a smirk on his face, Rafe left us alone. Sorin and I glanced at each other, breaths deep before I swallowed and stepped toward our hammock, hoisting myself up.
I figured Sorin would go outside for drinks and stories, but he didn't. Silently, he curled up into his own hammock.
Carter blew out a breath, the only noise besides the scribbling of his pen, as we all fell asleep.
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For the next day and a half, Sorin shadowed me. He never once left my side.
I hated that I found comfort in his presence, hated how the ship wasn't nearly as lonely with him to be able to bicker with. He was my shield, and no matter how much I denied to myself that I needed one, I never told him to back off.
"What are you reading?" Sorin asked me, the seventh day on the ship. He leaned over to read over my shoulder, but I quickly snapped the book shut and slammed it onto my lap.
"The only other book I brought that's not destroyed," I said, an edge to my voice. Sorin gave me a charming smile.
"And what is this book about?" He asked, glancing down at the cover. "Capturing Deception," Sorin read, his smirk spreading. "Sounds... interesting." I shot him a glare.
"It's a good book."
"About what?"
"About... people," I sighed, shrugging.
"People?" Sorin questioned, that same stupid smirk on his face.
I yelped as he snatched my book from my hand. He opened the book to one of the marked pages. I fought for it, but he'd turned his body and placed a foot on my stomach, pressing me away from him.
"Damn it, give it to me," I grunted, reaching my fingertips as far as they'd go -even shifting when necessary- but Sorin kept me detained. A booming laugh echoed from his lips.
"Sorcha felt her eyes roll into the back of her head-."
"Stop!" I hissed.
"-from the pleasure. She felt Dominic's hands roam over her body, up to the plane of her breasts, pressing into the slope of her hips. His tongue continued its sweet attack, every flick sending a rush of heat up her spine."
Once he finally stopped, his eyes flicked up to mine. "Who wants to bet that that other book had the same... scandalous language?" He asked, tauntingly. I felt my face flush, my jaw clenching. With Sorin's leg relaxed slightly, a single surge forward gave me the ability to grab the book from his hand. He didn't let go though, initiating a game of strengths.
"Give it back," I grunted. Sorin laughed.
"No."
"You fucking arrogant, jackass," I spat, pulling back with all my strength. Sorin pulled in a quick motion, sending me toppling on top of him.
And suddenly, my hand on his chest was the only thing separating us. My attention was no longer on the book that we both still gripped. It was honed on our uneven breaths. Sorin's face twisted with surprise, but his lips were pressed into a fine line.
I cleared my throat and grabbed the book. Sorin's grip had gone slack.
From across the deck, there was a commotion as all of the Pirates yelled in staggered unison, "Land ho!"
I craned my neck around the side and in the distance, blanketed in mist, was Targaryen.