13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Hector
Charon stands near the window in the bathroom, the knife in his hand gliding down his cheek in slow, practiced strokes. He works without a mirror, just a faint reflection in the glass, his hair running down his back like a dark waterfall.
It shouldn’t be mesmerizing, watching him shave, but my eyes keep tracking the drag of the blade, silver catching against the hollow of his throat. Who taught him to do it? A father, maybe? Brother? Some moment in his life where letting someone that close with a sharp weapon wasn’t so dangerous.
“Pretty eyes,” Nyx squawks from her perch above, rustling her feathers in the quiet.
The knife pauses just under his jaw before he wipes it clean, then switches sides, pulling his skin taut with one hand while the other works the edge upward. His eyes flick to mine, catching my gaze from where I sit at the kitchen table, and I drop it down to the worn wood while my pulse quickens.
How old is this boat, anyway? Where did it come from? How did he end up here? So many questions swirl around my head, but I’m too much of a coward to speak after the way he cleaned my naked body this morning.
After what I did to him.
Before me sits a tin plate with three narrow strips of dried meat on it.
That’s it. No bread, no broth or vegetables.
Just brittle pieces of what looks like venison, maybe rabbit.
I don’t actually know what meat they raise inside Zone T, but whatever it is, it’s all Charon has left. And he offered it to me.
I haven’t touched it.
When he finishes shaving, his fingers run along his jawline, searching for anything missed stubble.
My attention once again drifts back to him, to the broad cut of his shoulders and veins running down his arms. The steadiness of his hands.
Part of me wonders what happened between us over the last four days.
Did…did I touch him? Make him feel good? Did he touch me?
Charon meets my gaze once again and gestures toward the chair in the corner with a tilt of his head, knife held loosely in his grip.
When all I do is stare at him, he points to his clean face, then mine, causing me to touch the hair growing wild on my cheeks.
Realization dawns on me that he wants to help me shave.
I should be saying “fuck no” and getting far away from that blade as possible. Yet, my legs move without thought.
“Yeah, okay.” Gripping the cane he made for me, I limp over quietly and take a seat .
He steps in close, the homemade soap he'd just used filling my nostrils as his palm brackets my jaw, rubbing the lather into my skin. Once finished, his fingers turn my head until the edge of the blade kisses my throat.
I should be terrified, but…I'm not. If anything, my dick twitches pathetically at the feel of his touch on my flesh. His eyes meet mine, thumb brushing over the hammering pulse point I'm sure he can feel before slowly dragging the knife down.
That first scrape of steel down my cheek is gentle but just loud enough that I can hear it over the wind outside. My breath fills the space between us, close enough that his chest brushes my shoulder when he leans in. His gaze never leaves the path of the blade.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper when he pauses to wipe off some hair with a rag. “Why are you taking care of me?”
Something unreadable passes over his expression before he dips the knife again, thumb pressing just under my chin. It forces me to look at him while the steel glides down my neck.
There’s danger in the way he holds me, but…there’s also trust. Mine or his, I can't tell anymore, but the tender way he touches me even with a knife at my jugular is messing with my head. Anyone else in this position would carve me up, no hesitation
So why isn't he?
Charon's eyes linger at my mouth when he leans in for the final stroke. His knuckles brush my lips, and my heart pounds against the knife’s edge, all of my blood surging toward my cock as I exhale .
He swallows hard, pulling back now that he's finished, and I drop my gaze down to the very apparent bulge between his legs, feeling…I don't even know how I feel.
Fuck, I think I might like the Ferryman more than I should. It's terrifying.
“You should eat,” I croak to distract myself from his erection, gesturing toward the meat on the table.
He just shrugs, tapping the counter thrice with his knuckles in a non-answer, but I feel like I can hear his response perfectly. So should you.
My jaw tightens. “You don’t have to give me your food. I'll be okay.”
Another shrug. Gods, he’s so damn stubborn, and I hate that a part of me…likes it.
Silence stretches on until I finally give in, hobbling over to the table to bite into the smallest strip.
It’s tough, salty, and clings to my teeth like leather, but I force it down.
The meat settles heavily in my stomach, though the guilt in my gut is heavier.
I glance at the plate again with only two pieces left now. It’s all we have.
“This isn’t sustainable,” I mutter. “We’ll starve before the week’s out.”
Charon just sits down across from me and nods slowly, lips pressed into a grim line.
I look at him— really look at him, studying his face.
There’s exhaustion in the lines of his mouth, eye sockets sunken in.
Beneath the open top button of his shirt, I can see his collarbones, more prominent than they were when I first woke up on this boat.
A choked noise leaves my throat as I realize what's happening here .
He’s not just keeping me alive, he's killing himself in order to do it.
Shoving the plate away, I push onto my good leg, appetite gone. “I need to get into the prison. We need supplies and I need to find my sister.”
His head snaps toward me, brows raised in alarm as he wags his head back and forth.
“I know,” I say quickly, holding up a hand. “I know it’s basically a death sentence, but if we don’t get food, we’ll die anyway.”
He stares at me for a long beat before rising from the bench.
I watch him step up to the empty pantry, peering inside like something might magically materialize out of thin air.
When he drags out the jar of eye snacks for his bird, an idea suddenly takes root in my head like the rot running through my veins.
I don’t say it right away, because even thinking it feels insane, but desperation does funny things to a person, especially when they’re starving.
I shift on my foot, swinging my gaze up to Nyx perched on the overhead beam. She tilts her head like she already knows what I’m thinking.
“What if…” I start, hesitating when Charon glances up. “What if we let her take one of my eyes?”
He goes absolutely still, hand halfway in the jar, and I grimace. Yes, if it came down to it, I'd eat the eyeballs, but I'd rather not. “She can tell who’s infected, right? If she takes it from me, they might let me inside. They trust that shit.”
Charon’s jaw ticks as he raises his gaze to Nyx, then back to me before setting down the jar with a loud thunk that makes me flinch. Stepping closer, he takes my head between his palms, fingers curling into my hair as he raises my face to his with a rough shake of his head.
No.
“It’s just an eye, Charon. I'm already missing a foot, I’ve lived through worse—”
A thumb brushes just under my right lid softly, his gaze locked desperately on mine like he’s trying to memorize every color there, and my chest tightens painfully. He doesn’t want me to lose my eyes because he likes them.
I grab both his wrists and smile sadly, knowing there's no other choice. “I can't let you die for me. Getting into Zone T is the only way.”
He shakes his head again, desperately.
“Charon, look at us . We’re out of food. You’ve got nothing left. You gave me everything, and what did you get in return for your troubles? Four days of assault from a half-dead rotter who can’t even limp straight.”
His face crumples like I’ve stabbed him, and I hate myself for that, but I need to make him understand.
He yanks one hand free and holds it to his pec before placing it flat against my chest. Over and over, right above our hearts, mouthing, “ mine .”
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” I marvel, sucking in an exasperated breath.
He just shrugs with a nod. Maybe I am.
But his fingers curl around my own, thumb brushing my knuckles as he brings my palm to his lips to whisper, “ Not your eye.”
“I’ll come back. I promise. Charon, I need to do this.”
He just huffs, gazing at me in frustration. After a moment, he pulls away and disappears into the bathroom. Something scrapes against the wood of the boat as he pushes out a barrel of water from the waterfall, his eyes meeting mine when he points inside it.
I grab my cane before limping over, the floor swaying underfoot as I peer into the dark depths. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”
Reaching out to touch my shoulders, he mimics the act of picking me up and setting me down inside the barrel, then does it again.
At first, I don't get it. I just stare into the water at a loss until I measure the size of it with my eyes. It’s big and wide, standing as tall as my chest…big enough to fit a person .
“No,” I breathe, stomach sinking. “You want me to get inside that thing?”
Charon just nods.
“No fucking way. That’s your plan? Let them load me onto one of their vehicles like a piece of cargo and hope no one checks inside?”
All he does is point to me, then to the barrel. Then Nyx up above, like that's supposed to make this plan less terrifying.
Now that it’s out there, though…I can’t think of a better one.
They probably won’t scan the barrels, not if he’s been filling them for years. Especially if Nyx is circling like always, giving them a clear good to go. Still…
I drag a hand down my face, blowing out a harsh breath. “What if I can't get back out? ”
He tilts his head as I look at the barrel again, dread crawling up my spine. It's tight, wet, and dark. No air holes. No guarantee I’ll make it to the other side.
But it’s a way in. It’s a chance I'm willing to risk it all to take. Staying here means starvation for both of us.
So I square my shoulders, pulse thudding behind my ribs as I nod slowly. “Okay. Let's try it, then. See if I fit.”
Charon holds my gaze for a long moment before moving to lift me in. I steady my breath and let him, trying not to think about the darkness inside of it and instead remembering why I’m doing this.
For him. And for her . Lena, my sister.
They’ve both done so much already. No matter what happens to me, I need to save them both.
By any means necessary.