Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
TALLY
Did Cyrus really expect us to sit back and not follow her?
There’s gunfire outside, like hell was I letting her go alone. Especially after what I just heard. Especially when this fight is my fight.
Grabbing the kitchen knives was Mabel’s idea, when I started to move she halted me, grabbing a couple and handing them over before going for her own. I was so determined to follow Cyrus, I didn’t even think about walking into a war zone without weapons.
As we clear the ship and spill out onto the dock, things start to go to shit.
Plenty of my people stand around the edges, masked in confusion and fear. Amara stands out front, a few other pirates– including the two who found Hago’s cloak– surround her. All weapons drawn, pointing out at a horde of cloaked figures.
And in the middle of it all– the one shouting with such venom, I’m surprised he hasn't poisoned himself– is Hago. Waving a fucking pistol around.
When he clocks me coming from the ship, he grins wildly. Pure chaos swims in his expression. Then his tirade centres on me. “Here’s the whore, who thinks she can destroy our island by bringing these heathens here.”
Ignoring his tirade, I track the rest of his harem. A dozen cloaked figures stand around him. All hiding under their hoods. But from what I can see, I don’t recognise any of them, none of them are my people. Which is a relief but also makes them an unknown.
Muskets and swords peek between the split in their matching cloaks. Danger radiates off them, but they’ll be no match to the pirates around me.
Amara steps forward, but she’s blocked by Cyrus, who steps forward with her body coiled ready to strike. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Hago sneers at Cyrus. “I guess you’re the other whore. The one helping our so-called leader destroy everything this island is. You scum are worthless trash, destroying our land.”
My anger boils, fierce and hot. No one talks to Cyrus that way.
I storm to stand next to her, running on pure fury. “I’d watch your mouth, Hago. You’re getting awfully close to treason.”
He laughs. He fucking laughs. “Treason? Please. These bottom feeders you invite here, do worse every damn day; yet you turn a blind eye to them. We want our island back. We warned you, now we’re going to take it back.”
Cyrus growls. It’s deep and low, and frankly terrifying. Is it a turn on? Yes, but if I was Hago, I’d be quivering in my boots. “And how, exactly, do you plan on doing that?”
His maniacal grin grates on my nerves, grinding down on my patience.
“By eliminating the contamination and taking over. Eradicating the poison that keeps infecting our land. Until we’re peaceful once more.” His dark, slimy gaze flits to me. “Your choice, to be executed willingly, or risk taking more than yourself out, by going violently.”
“That’s not going to happen, Hago.” Cyrus takes another step forward, strategically placing herself between him and me.
He laughs once again, this time, lifting the still smoking pistol up towards me. Cyrus is mostly blocking the way, which only makes my heart lurch more; I don’t want her to have to take a bullet for me, if he was smart enough to reload.
Is that musket even loaded?
“Oh, I think it will be, dirtbag. Or you’ll be going down with her.
” Hago’s threats are losing more weight as he goes on.
The way his fingers shake around the musket, his tone wavering as he notices the growing crowd around us.
Not just pirates from the ship, with their own weapons drawn, but also the people of my island.
And not one of them looks particularly happy.
All throwing disgusted looks towards him; faces of fear at the unknowing of what Hago may do.
I can only hope I’m seeing the truth, and not seeing what I want to see.
That the people of this island still agree with what I’m doing.
That allowing boats to dock here– allowing pirates in– increases trade, work and money for the island.
“Look around, Hago. No one is impressed, stand down.” Cyrus calls, capturing the attention of everyone. “Don’t make this worse than it needs to be. You’re outnumbered.”
He falters, his eyes flickering around, his hand on the weapon lowering just slightly. A crazed expression titters over his features as he takes in the crowd, not one on his side.
It is almost more concerning. Because now he’s running out of steam.
He’s becoming unpredictable.
Two of his closest minions shuffle closer, drawing their own weapons, the sparkling sun glinting off the steel. Muttering quietly enough I can’t hear. Probably something to hype Hago back up. Reminding him of the stakes.
How they don’t realise they are outnumbered at least three to one, I don’t know. Hell, with this crew it didn’t matter if they outnumbered us. They’ll still lose, in a pointless fight.
Hago– although not involved– witnessed the battle that happened nearly eight months ago, he knows what these pirates are capable of when they’re outnumbered. It’s almost insulting to assume they can’t take care of a measly few stragglers.
Which reminds me, who the fuck are they?
I step up to Cyrus’s side again, foolishly putting myself on display but needing to show my strength, my position.
“Whoever these men are, are poisoning you. They aren’t from this island, who are they?” I call out.
That’s clearly the wrong thing to say.
Hago raises his musket once more, this time looking straight down the sight at me and…
Dry firing.
The pistol is empty. Unloaded. Used up before we even stepped off the ship.
The freaking idiot doesn’t even know how to use the weapon he’s flashing about.
It doesn’t matter that a projectile doesn’t head my way, Cyrus is moving.
Moving straight towards Hago and his minions, her cutlass raised high ready to take them out.
Amara, August, and Mary swarm in behind her, the rest of their crew present forming a circle around the group– effectively protecting everyone on the outskirts from getting hurt. And these four alone are more than enough to take out twelve of these muppets.
The four of them create a formidable line, all with their weapons drawn. Cyrus and Amara with their cutlasses, August with her razor whips and Mary with her daggers.
“Drop the pistol. Now.” Cyrus’s voice is low, gravelly with rage. And so damn fucking hot.
Not the right place to acknowledge it.
But hell, she’s something else. Raw power and force all rolled into one. Muscle stacked beneath smooth brown skin. And that god forsaken stone facade is… nowhere to be seen.
Just pure anger and rage roll around her expression.
And the damn woman is currently defending me.
Like I said fucking hot.
Hago is frazzling, backing up and hiding behind his minions in the face of his mortality. Allowing his men to cover him, with their weapons drawn. With a shaking voice, he commands his bitches. “Take them out!”
That command is like a calling card to the four pirates, each one smirking with pure venom. Minus August, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman actually make any face other than a scowl. But the gleam in her eye matches the other women.
The two men in front of Hago– with swords raised and faces still cloaked– move forwards, straight towards Cyrus and Amara. They brace, but let the cloaked figures walk towards them, giving up no ground to the people who wish to take my island.
Once they’re within a few steps of the pirates, they strike.
Cyrus and Amara move, countering the others' first swipe before landing killing blows.
Both bodies drop.
Within seconds of advancing.
Blood pools out and eeks into the dirt-covered cobblestones.
Hago visibly freezes. The colour leaching from his complexion, as his soldiers stop and reassess. The smirk that grows on my face is one of pure beauty. They didn’t expect these women to be better than them, didn’t expect them to stand a chance. And here they are defying all expectations.
There’s a moment of silence as awareness kicks in.
The girls don’t let them gather their senses before they attack. All four of them descend– swords, daggers and whips primed– even with the odds being against them.
Metal clangs against metal, as swords hit one another, combatants fighting for the upper hand. After learning from the first two’s mistakes, they pair up to attack the girls– not that that’s enough to bring them to their knees either.
August’s whip slashes through the air, targeting the face of one attacker, the razors on the end catching their cheekbone and squirting blood up into the air.
Mary dances between her two offenders, playing with her food, dodging advances and laughing when they get close but not close enough.
Amara looks bored by the whole situation, barely putting in effort to deflect, moving like a boa through water.
Then there’s Cyrus.
Fury and vengeance rolled into one. Choosing to deliver multiple injuries over making the killing blow.
Hitting them with the butt of her cutlass or leaving stinging slashes, when she could have easily gone for the kill.
She’s punishing them. Making sure they feel every ounce of pain I’ve felt over the last few months.
Two goons hang back, guarding Hago. Who looks… like he’s going to run. Again. The two covering him are guarding him, but keeping their eyes on the main foray in front of them. Not paying attention to his flighty eyes or the way he’s pale enough to give August a run for her money.
He’s going to bail.
Leave these men fighting for his cause, whilst he runs with his tail between his legs.
Not on my fucking watch.
I’ve got too many questions for that fucker to go missing on me.
Still clutching the kitchen knife, I tap Mabel’s shoulder, knocking my head in Hago’s direction and swooping my fingers in a circle– indicating she makes her way around one side and I the other, until we meet in the middle with Hago trapped between us.
She nods, moving towards the right of the circle, her own kitchen knife tucked up her forearm, as she moves undetected around the edge of the makeshift battle arena.
I head left. My short height is a blessing right now, as I move beneath everyone’s eye line, not one person paying attention to the way I move around the edge.
If they do notice, they say nothing– keeping their gazes pinned to the violence.
I don’t take my eyes off Hago, making sure he doesn’t bolt before we have a chance to get to him.
In the middle of it all, more bodies hit the floor, Mary’s giggles carry on the wind, August’s whip cracks like lightning, and Amara grumbles something along the line of ‘pathetic boring fucks’.
Then, beneath it all is the deep, gravel of Cyrus’s growl.
Not the loudest sound, or the one that catches attention, but a persistent thrum to the fight. Also it makes my undergarments wet. The borrowed undergarments. Another sick sensation of satisfaction rumbles through me, at the thought of these undergarments being Cyrus’s and covering them in me.
Now, I can’t wait to give them back, still wet.
Shaking the inappropriate thoughts from my head– something to think about later– I sweep the battlefield, before fluttering back over to Hago.
He’s slowly backing up, the crowd starting to part around him, without realising who it is trying to escape.
All too busy focusing on the people fighting in the centre of it all.
It makes sense, when I gaze out over the fight once more. There’s only three of them left and only Cyrus is fighting them. Amara, August, and Mary standing back and allowing her to take down the remainder, which she’s doing without even breaking a sweat.
Looking past Hago, I see Mabel only a few feet away from Hago’s other side and knives primed, mirroring me. We both take two more steps, before I nod at her, and we both lunge. Completely ignoring the two goons standing a good ten feet away, we both latch onto Hago.
Seamlessly, we have the same idea, grabbing an arm each and sending our boots into the backs of his knees. He crashes down to the floor with a screech, just as the last assailant falls victim to Cyrus’s blade.
The two acting as guards turn around, shock rendering their features speechless, when they realise how far he managed to slink off without them noticing.
It doesn’t last long before they fall to the floor too. Cyrus and Amara move behind them and knock them unconscious with the butt of their swords.
Hago whines, like a child who knows they’ve done wrong but cries for attention anyway.
All of his cohort are down and he’s effectively captured, holding on for dear life to the empty musket.
Just for the fun of it, I kick his hand, knocking it free and letting it clank to the ground.
Mirth travels through me as Mabel takes it one step further, kicking his reaching hand away and nudging the pistol out of the way with little care.
A hulking man– one I’ve seen hanging around the ship before– comes striding over, bundles of rope in hand.
He hands one off to Amara, then Cyrus and they get to work tying up the two unconscious bodies.
When he moves over to us, Mabel and I hold a squirming Hago still, as he ties his hands together.
Trailing the extra rope around his chest and leaving a strip long enough to drag him.
It’ll be like walking a dog. Shame he won't be down on all fours.
Hago fights the entire time, but the fire beneath his irises starts to die.
When he’s finished being tied, the crowd cheers. Not one person on his side. It spreads joy through my body I don’t think I’ve felt in months.
Amara comes over, followed by Cyrus, who lands a punch square to Hago’s jaw before barking her orders. “Henri, take the two unconscious fuckheads down to the brig.” Then her gaze flicks over to Amara, who moves over to Mabel and praises her with kisses and lustful touches.
With a roll of her eyes she looks back at me, the scowl that’s been embedded into her face since we came out here, lifting just slightly. “Want to help me interrogate these fucks?”
I grin back, “Hell fucking, yes, I do.”