“August, Mary, follow that prick. Keep him alive, for now!” A giggling dark woman and scowling pale ghost race out the door at the order. Hopefully hot on the culprit's tail. “Henri, Janny– everyone fucking else– fetch pails of water. Now!”
More pirates vacate the building, their eyes focused on the task ahead as they weave their way through the drunk patrons, who can’t gather enough coordination to find the exit behind the engulfing flames.
The room is quickly filling with smoke, yet I can’t move as I watch the building I call my own start to melt in front of me.
Amara and Mabel appear from the stairs and start ushering people outside, gathering people too drunk to remember how to even walk and getting them to safety.
Smoke and ash starts to fill my lungs as the fire spreads out across the floor, lighting up a table and chairs set.
Hago lets out a pathetic screech from where he stands in front of the bar, the flames getting closer. I growl, wishing I could leave him there to burn, but I know better. Breakingfrom my stupor, I grab the back of his shirt and use all my strength to force him backwards over the bar.
Cyrus jumps down and pulls me away from him, keeping herself between us.
She points her sword towards him, using it to point to the direction of the back exit. “Out, now.” She growls. And wrong timing again, but my undergarments are officially ruined with how hot that growl was.
He stumbles ahead, finally heading to the exit. Cyrus grabs a hold of my waist and forcibly drags me from the flames too.
All I can think as I watch the receding back of Hago is: if he was there inside the building, how can he be the one that's doing this?
He was right in front of me when that cloaked bastard came in. It wasn’t Hago. So who the fuck is behind all this?
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 himputting 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 sliceher open, in front of everyone. Use the moment of utter confusion and chaos to their advantage.
