Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
CYRUS
My full focus is on keeping everyone away from Tally, my crew work on taming the flames. With any luck, they can save the building from ruin. Although with the way ash clings to us all, the tavern won’t be usable for the foreseeable future.
The attack’s memory repeats through my head, trying to pick out moments that will help us identify who the perpetrators are.
Nothing sticks out, other than the pitch black cloaked figure.
Huge and bulking. From the stance I’d deduce a male, but with the women I’m usually around on the ship, I know a woman could easily fill in the blank space.
I just can’t picture anyone on this island that would fit that bulk and frame right.
Not everyone's as short as Tally, but no one’s tall enough to fit the silhouette. Let alone bulky enough; everyone is lean with their muscle here. No one is built like Henri.
Even though he was in the building, my suspicions are still on Hago. He was surprised by the fire, sure. But the shifty way he’s acting right now, to me, shows he knows something.
He’s working through thoughts in his head. I can see him putting pieces together and his scowl deepening into a permanent fixture on his face.
I want to question the fuck out of him, but until my crew come back with answers and the flames have dissipated, my only priority is keeping Tally safe.
She’s sat on a big rock, my coat draped over her shoulders as she stares into the charred front door of the tavern. Small flames still flicker from within as members of my crew throw pails of water over them.
Smoke clouds over us, everything tinged with black. The air is fowl, burnt and gritty.
I’m going to be coughing up ash for weeks.
Tally hasn’t said much since I dragged her from the building.
No emotions pass across her features. She just radiates pure numbness.
I hate that she knows what that feels like.
I want to comfort her, drag her into my arms and never let go.
I don’t care who sees it, I just want to take her pain away.
So, I do exactly that.
Keeping my periphery on threats, I move closer. Moving slowly to not spook her, before lifting my arms around her shoulders and pulling her into my chest. Her head rests between my breasts and I feel her shuddering breath rasp against me as much as I can hear it.
I can’t resist the need to mash my face into her hair, so again, I don’t.
My nose buries itself into her hair. Her fresh scent tarnished but the smoke does nothing to deter me from comforting her.
I can feel her melt into the embrace as I hold her close.
I know she’s struggling with this. It’s clear to see.
In all honesty, who wouldn’t be? Tonight’s attack was an obvious attempt to take her out.
A failed attempt, but I don’t trust that no one around here won’t take the opportunity to slice her open, in front of everyone.
Use the moment of utter confusion and chaos to their advantage.
I shake the thoughts away.
Nothing is happening to her.
Ever.
Over the course of the next few hours, my crew is able to put out the flames.
The tavern, to put it lightly, is fucked.
We’re lucky the flames didn’t hit the barrels of booze.
Amara and Mabel are questioning everyone around, trying to piece together any information.
August and Mary have yet to come back with the fucker.
Whilst I’m still wrapped around Tally as her personal shield.
The tavern won’t be open for a long while. Fixing it is also the last thing on Tally’s mind right now.
Maybe that’s something I can handle.
Take on fixing it myself. Get the crew to help out, when we aren’t actively tracking down the bastard that started the fire in the first place.
It’s decided. I’m fixing this tavern for Tally as a gift. A gift for falling in love with me, all those months ago and having to deal with my rejection, until I woke up enough to realise I’m an idiot.
Even if she doesn’t choose me in the end, it’ll be worth it for her.
My instincts tell me to check my periphery.
Hago has backed up towards a row of bushes, his flickering eyes enough to give away he plans on running for it.
Little shit is proving my theory correct.
He might not have started this fire, but his buddy sure did.
He knows what’s going on and I won’t let him escape so easily.
“Hago.” I call out, he stops in his tracks, eyes wide at being caught. “Have you spoken to Amara or Mabel yet? I’m sure they’d like to hear your thoughts on what happened.”
He grumbles, mumbling under his breath as he steps back out of the shadows.
He's pissed off, that's for sure.
I may not want him anywhere near Tally, but he’s certainly not leaving my sight either.
Amara must hear me call out to him, as she spins on her heel and pins him with her glare before strutting over to him. She doesn’t make it more than a few steps, before August and Mary round the corner. With no prisoner in sight. Fuck.
Mary, the always happy ray of sunshine, has a sulky pout on her face. No doubt pissed she didn’t get to complete the mission. August is scowling, as usual, but carrying a swatch of black fabric.
As they close in on Amara, I stand with Tally wrapped up tightly in my arms, her legs clinging around my waist, with no plan of letting her go.
“What did you find?” Amara asks them, eyeing the fabric the same way I am.
August lifts it, showcasing the cloak the attacker was wearing.
“He dropped this before vanishing.” But it’s more than that, I recognise it from somewhere else, someone else wore it before.
I didn’t notice inside the tavern, with the smoke and flames it was impossible to see anything other than a dark figure.
But now, I can see the dark embroidered patterns.
One that sparks a memory from when we were here before.
From one of the first nights after Amara’s injuries, the night after I’d given into Tally for the first time.
I shake Tally gently, moving her so she can see the cloak from my arms. “Tally, is this cloak something common here? Or does this belong to who I think it does?”
She lifts her head from my chest, eyes still unfocused as she peers at the cloak. Her brows scrunch as she examines it, her features contort when the same realisation sets in that I had.
I know who owns this cloak.
I swivel, searching for the bastard, hoping to find his shifting eyes where he once stood.
But he’s gone.
It’s Hago’s cloak, the one I’d seen him wearing when he left the tavern muttering under his breath, all those months ago.
And the fucker used the slight distraction to slip away.