I watch her walk out the cell, confident steps leading her to the wrought iron door. She disappears through it, hearingmore than enough of this bullshit. It takes me less than a second to decide I’m done here too.
Standing up, I cast August a glance. “They’re yours now.”
I trust her to get the rest of the missing information, such as why this Thomas wants our crew dead. Why they sought out and used Hago specifically.
Amara and Mabel hang back, quietly muttering to August and Jude, before they follow me out.
Shame I don't give much of a shit about where they plan on going. I plan on finding Tally. Not willing to rest until I have her in my arms and make sure she’s okay.
It doesn’t take much wondering to find her on the top deck, leaning onto the railings at the edge and staring out over her island, fingers white knuckling the wood in a death grip. Her hair gently blows in the wind, tendrils dancing to the beat of their own drum.
Slowly I close in, stepping to stand next to her and staring out in the same way she is. Neither of us speak for a while, both just enjoying the view and me giving her silent support.
Chapter Forty-Eight
TALLY
The view blurs out of focus as I continue to stare. I’m not really seeing anything, not taking anything new in. Just staring into a void in space and time.
I don’t understand, not completely.
He couldn’t have me after we fucked once– and hell, it was so bad– he decides to eliminate me, so no one else can have me either. What the hell is that mindset?
When I couldn’t have Cyrus, when I thought it would never happen, I never planned on killing her so she could never be with anyone else. I may have ignored her for my own mental health, but I’d have never terrorised her or tried to kill her.
Why the fuck did he think he should kill me?
I fear I’ll never understand how he got fromwantingme tokillingme. And I think I’m… okay with that. I don’t need to understand it, not when his decisions will lead to him being six feet deep soon.
Cyrus stands next to me, silent. Not pressuring me to answer anything, just allowing me to process what's happening.
With a sigh, I drop my chin to my chest. Overthinking what Hago said about me and this land. “Do you think I’m destroying this island?” It’s nothing more than a whisper, but it shows the true pain I’m hiding.
Instantly, Cyrus shakes her head. “No, not at all. I think you have something special here. You give your people a chance to better themselves, give them work and easier access to trade. You’ve created a haven here for many people. Just because many of those are pirates, doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong.”
Her words sit heavy on my stomach, and I choose to believe them.
“We didn’t find out who Thomas is. We should go back.”
Again Cyrus shakes her head. “August is on it, she’ll have the other two quacking within the hour. We’ll find out who he is and why he offered help. Find out why he wants our crew dead.”
My fingers dance along the wood railing. Fresh wood. Wood that was replaced recently after the battle. A spark ignites in my brain. “Do you think it has anything to do with James?”
Her exhale is heavy, letting out too much stress in one blow. “Probably. We knew we’d piss people off when we killed him. It wouldn’t surprise me if this was related, and they used Hago’s weak sensibilities to get to us.”
“Well, they decided to fuck with the wrong pirates.” I chirp. Her smirk grows and it lights up my heart, within a moment it accelerates my mood.
“And they fucked with the wrong leader too.” Fingers trace my jaw, soft and reverent. Shivers wrack their way down my spine at the gentle touch. Lust spiralling down to my core. My body taking a complete one-eighty on how it felt moments ago.
“You really do look good in that outfit, love.” She mutters as she leans down to graze her mouth against mine.
I answer with a grin, “And it didn’t get covered in blood.”
She shrugs with her lips still pressed to mine. “There's still plenty of time left in the day for that.”
Laughter spills out of me.
Finally, her mouth presses to mine, pillowy lips dancing with mine in a slow glide. It’s only when my wetness starts to slide down my thighs, I remember I’m not wearing underwear.
