Chapter 32
Hook
Lily would pay for hurting Tink. He’d known something wasn’t right from the moment she showed up. Everything about her had screamed trap. And it was. It bloody was. But he’d never expected her to be in league with that bastard.
Several possibilities had come to mind when he considered the pixie. A phantom conjured by the island? Possible. Paid off by one of the Gamorean royals? Maybe. An idiot out for her own good? Definitely.
His fist tightened where it was tied behind his back. She’d pay for betraying them, but most of all, for hurting his Tink. Watching her cry, body shaking, heart visibly breaking…pure torture. If he didn’t hate the bloody crocodile stalking toward him so much, he’d thank him for shutting Lily up.
Blackbeard pointed his sword at Hook, glaring down its length. “Where’s tha scale of Leviathan?”
“Haven’t found it,” Hook snapped back as he stared intently at the monster looming above him.
Blackbeard tipped his head to one of his men. The lanky man advanced.
Hook loosened his jaw, tilted it just so… Pain flared in his cheek as the man’s fist smashed into him. He let his head swing, gritting his teeth.
Fucker.
Tink cried out, “Stop!”
Blackbeard ignored her.
From the corner of his eye, Hook saw his crew squirm and wiggle.
A nice gesture, but it wouldn’t help. We’re right fucked.
And it was his fault. He’d led his crew into this mess, ignored his gut, chased a damned treasure.
Not that he really had a choice. They needed it, but he could have gone alone, insisted they stay on the ship far from this bloody island.
Hook spit blood onto the dirt near Blackbeard’s boots. “You acted too soon, you old crocodile.”
Blackbeard stepped forward. The tip of his sword grazed the underside of Hook’s chin, forcing him to crane his neck back. The same sword he’d used to cut off Hook’s hand. All these years and he still had it, handle freshly wrapped in new croc skin. “Ya never learn, fish boy.”
The old taunt raised his hackles.
“Can’t give ya what we don’t have, croc,” he taunted, mimicking the man’s voice.
Blackbeard snapped his attention toward Lily, a question clear on his face.
She winced. “We’d only found half the clues so far.”
Fury radiated from Blackbeard as he went utterly still, letting his sword dip ever so slightly. If looks could kill, the pixie would be dead.
“This was the best chance, I promise,” Lily rambled. “With the storm, the fog. It was the only chance I had to sneak away, to tell you.”
How she pandered to him. Disgusting. Tink wouldn’t even look at her cousin. She didn’t seem to look at anything, staring at the ground, her features pale. And her wings… He hadn’t noticed until now how one bent awkwardly. She was hurt.
Hook struggled against his bindings. If he could rush Blackbeard, dodge his sword, find a way to—
“Nuh-uh,” Blackbeard tsk’d. The sword point dug into the soft skin under his chin with a sharp prick. “Ya confirmed the clues?” he asked Lily.
She placed her hands on her hips. “Of course.”
Blackbeard’s gaze landed on him again, cold as iron. “Men, take this lot to tha Kraken.”
Hook hazarded a quick glance at his crew before two men hauled him to his feet. Don’t do anything stupid. Steady looks from his crew confirmed the silent order. He shifted his focus to Tink… Bloody hell. The raw fear and panic in her gaze cut sharper than Blackbeard’s sword.
He had to find a way out of this. For all of them.
At least they didn’t have the scale yet.
Don’t give it to them, love. It wouldn’t save them.
Blackbeard would sooner kill them all than let them walk free.
Once he had what he wanted, nothing would stop him from doing just that.
He yearned to tell her. They wouldn’t give him the chance, and he couldn’t risk mouthing it. Please, love.
Tied together in one long chain of prisoners, there was no way to escape.
Hope slipped further away with each step toward the rocky beach.
He could see it now, the Kraken looming just offshore near the Jolly Roger.
The tightness in his chest worsened the closer they got.
What happened to the men he left behind?
Barley with his new baby on the way, the others. If Blackbeard had hurt them—
No. Hook shook himself. He couldn’t let his emotions take over.
They’d never win then. He had to wait for it, that perfect moment to turn the tides against him.
At least a dozen times the odds had been just as stacked against them, and they’d won.
He wouldn’t lose today. Not to Blackbeard or anyone else.
He’d put that bastard in his place and claim his vengeance. There was no other option.
A few small figures waited near the rowboats on the beach. Hook nearly tripped. Children? Why the bloody hell would Blackbeard have children with him?
Not just any children. Hook’s eyes narrowed as they neared.
He remembered that redhead, the one he’d bartered with at Tink’s treehouse.
Hot fury raced under his skin. Little brat.
And that short one near him, definitely the kid from the witch’s shop.
He barely paid him any mind, but the scrappy kid hadn’t even changed his clothes.
Why work with this lot?
“You!” Tink shouted ahead of him. He could barely see her, just the slightest flash of blonde hair as she strained against the ropes that linked them all together.
“It’s that pixie!” the brawny boy exclaimed.
“Why are you here? All of you?”
Good question, love.
“He pays good,” the redhead said.
“Peter, you idiot! He’s evil,” she screeched as one of Blackbeard’s men forced her into a boat. She squealed again, nearly spilling into the water.
The boy stood a little straighter. At least two had the decency to look away, and the smallest one tugged on Peter’s shirt.
The whole ride to the boat, Hook waited for a chance that didn’t come.
Or maybe he missed it. He couldn’t take his eyes off Tink, who had been forced into the rowboat ahead of his—along with too many of the bastard’s crew.
She vomited into the boat, earning groans and outcries.
They deserved much worse than filth-splattered boots.
“Which one a’ these things doesn’ belong.” Blackbeard’s words poured over him like an icy fog.
Hook snapped his attention to the captain, who grinned smugly toward the boat carrying Tink.
He looked away, but the damage was done.
Blackbeard knew too much. Bloody crocodile.
“Where’s my crew?” Hook demanded as they rowed past the Jolly Roger.
It bobbed like a toy boat, its anchor pulled up and tow lines attached to it from the Kraken.
A few unfamiliar faces—Blackbeard’s crew, no doubt—leaned over the railing.
“Should worry ’bout yerself, Captain,” Blackbeard mocked.
A dark haze clouded Hook’s vision. His breaths came faster. He could tackle Blackbeard right now, wrap his bound wrists around his neck and drag him under. Blackbeard might be free, but Hook was stronger. Younger.
A strong gust of wind smacked him in the face. But the sea would take them both, and if it didn’t, Blackbeard’s crew would finish the job. He’d never see Tink again. Or Smee. Or anyone else he loved. It would be a last resort. If all else failed…
The Kraken loomed as fierce as its namesake as their rowboats neared.
Larger than the Jolly Roger, but fast, with extra sails that were ready to be hoisted at a moment’s notice.
The exquisite hull gleamed with strength—well-repaired after their battle days ago.
Where they’d found the time, he could only guess.
If he didn’t hate the man so much, he might have been impressed.
The old croc even bothered with little flourishes—engravings around the portholes, a kraken masthead whose tentacles wrapped around the front railings—and he’d bet the interior was even finer.
Fucking bastard. The whole thing mocked him.
Though if it had belonged to anyone else, he might try to commandeer it.
But the croc’s taint was something that could never be scrubbed clean.
No, this ship belonged only one place: lost deep in the sea like its namesake no one had seen in decades.
Onboard the Kraken, Hook spotted the rest of his crew—bruised and bound, but no worse than the rest of them. Thank all the gods.
“Set sail, mates. Tow tha dinghy.”
Dinghy? Hook scowled. The Jolly Roger was no dinghy.
“Sail?” one sailor balked.
Blackbeard snarled him into silence.
“The scale,” Lily whined.
“We’ll get ’er. But this. Ah, I’ve waited so long. This I plan ta savor. Little fish boy finally rounded up with his minnows.” Blackbeard’s boots thumped against the deck as he paced in front of him. “Ya should’a stayed on land, boy.”
“Tick tock, croc,” Hook mocked. “Your time is running out.”
He laughed. “We have all tha time in tha world.”
The sea was his friend, his love, his life. But today it failed him, letting the Kraken tow his ship without a struggle. No storm came to blow them apart, not this time. Even the fog seemed to part for the croc and his crew, spitting them out into blue skies and gleaming seas.
A nearby spit of land, not worthy of a name, loomed just beyond the fog bank, a last rest before the Shrouded Isles.
Blackbeard blocked his view. The grinning bastard waited, still as a statue, until Hook finally met his eye. “Tha last rest of the Jolly Roger. Couldn’t a picked a better spot if I tried,” he bellowed, pleased with himself. “Unless…”
“What do you want?” Hook spit.
“Join ma crew.”
He swallowed the acid in his throat. “And my crew?”
“They ’n join too. These decks could use a swab.”
Nearby, members of Blackbeard’s crew snickered.
Memories threatened to drown him. Blackbeard wouldn’t be a gracious captain to his crew. He’d work them to the bone, just as he’d done to him.
But even that life might be better than death. At least for some of them.
Throat dry as dust, he said, “Let them speak their choice.”