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. Theborrowedundergarments. Another sick sensation of satisfaction rumbles through me, at the thought of these undergarments being Cyrus’s and covering them inme.
Now, I can’t wait to give them back,still wet.
Shaking the inappropriate thoughts from my head– something to think aboutlater– 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 andleaving 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.”
