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“We will wait. But if something comes up and you don’t return, we will proceed to plan B.”
“I will return,” she snapped, then paused at her vehemence. Maddox didn’t comment on it, allowing her to get rid of it. When she was calm, she continued watching the dock. Isaiah had disappeared, and another pirate dressed in a more bedazzled attire took over, hollering at the top of his lungs.
“Let’s go,” Maddox said.
She shadowed the man as they approached from the other side and snuck towards where House Silva’s box was…or boxes. She gaped at it.
“That’s it?”
The line of boxes was small and delicate, the outside coated in glitter of different colors. A small opening from a bigger box parted easily at Maddox’s maneuvering.
“It’s a gift to his shifter friends. I’m pretty sure they are the only boxes that will be handled with care and not tossed around.”
A glimpse at the wines inside and the crash of a box on the ship confirmed his guess. She winced, then climbed inside, squishing her body in whatever space was left. Maddox surveyed her, handed her a blanket, and closed the door, leaving her in darkness. But a small slit at the top gave her space to breathe and allowed her to watch as the man glissaded away.
When he was gone, she balled the blanket on her lap as nerves wrung her stomach dry. Her hands snapped for purchase when her box moved, the hollering voice coming closer.
“Git yer asses out of the ground and hurry up! Don’t ya dare drop those boxes, or I will have your heads!”
“Last I checked, I’m not a vampire, and cutting off my head is just a waste of energy,” someone chirped.
“Fine. Then I will rip yer heart out, you scrawny lad!”
There were hoots and laughter, then her box became steady again. She watched the feet passing in and out of her vision, then bit her tongue when her box was lifted yet again and she was placed somewhere dark and quiet. Minutes later, a horn tooted, and the voices from outside drifted away, secluding her further. A door opened and footsteps clicked.
“You shouldn’t jest with Marko like that. He has a terrible temper and will likely go off the rails if you keep angering him.”
Isaiah,her mind provided. Her ears perked as the chirping voice from earlier replied.
“It was just a joke. The man is wound too tight and can’t take jokes.”
“There are places to joke around and places where you can’t do that. Ostrov Krov is one of them.”
Winter bit back a snort, unable to connect the solemn advice to the man who had joked his way out of escaping Nate’s chokehold. The other man was skeptical, too.
“It’s not like they can touch us. They need us to provide them with goods.”
“There will be other merchants who can provide them with what they need. We are pirates and the bottom of the barrel in their eyes.”
“Then why are they trading with us?”
“Because we are the best at the bottom of the barrel—and we can get them goods that the merchants can only dream of delivering.”
She shivered, not wanting to know what kind of goods he was talking about. The two kept conversing until she got an inkling that the other pirate had to be a teenager with all his questions, but neither stood in front of her for her to confirm. She heard the other pirate bid Isaiah goodbye and tensed when Isaiah finally approached, looking around. He paused in front of a glittery gold box, opening it and humming.
“Expensive.” There was a click, then chugging sounds. “Terrible.”
But the man continued hovering over the next few boxes and randomly grabbed bottle after bottle. He stopped in front of her box, swearing ripely when he nearly dropped a bottle. She braced, hand clasping a bottle so she could throw it at him.
“Shouldn’t be greedy,” he muttered, then let out a laugh as if the notion amused him thoroughly.
Winter relaxed when he left. She rested her head on the door when the ship finally began to move, the vibration of the engine oddly comforting. Then she straightened when it occurred that with the blood contract still up, she shouldn’t have left Ostrov Krov so easily. Wasn’t that what Nate had said?
You trying to escape will be the most excruciating pain you will ever experience, so I suggest not putting yourself in that miserable position.
There was no pain. Her head knew why, but her heart refused to believe it. Her soul crushed into tiny pieces as air rushed out of her lungs, and an image sparked of Nate lying in a pool of his blood. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, so she wiped them away with her blanket.
“Get it together,” she whispered to herself, willing her sheer refusal to give up to carry her through.
