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He was surprised when it worked, and even more so when he was given a set of fresh clothes before he was ushered to the ship’s parlor. All the while, his eyes never stopped moving to case every inch within sight. The click had him eyeing the door, then Ven, who sat waiting inside and offered him the empty chair across.
“Tell me about your weapon.”
Isaiah sat down, checking out the food array even while subtly casing for the nearest available weapon.
“As I said, he’s not a weapon…fine. He’s a friend, that wasn’t a lie, but I suppose we use his strengths to our advantage from time to time.”
“And how did you acquire him?”
Isaiah picked a fruit from the tray and rolled it around in his palm. “Is that all you think of others? Something to acquire or kidnap?”
“Tell me about the information.”
“Not unless you guarantee me and my crew’s freedom—and a part of the treasure.”
Ven was silent as he picked up the same fruit that Isaiah did and bit into it. Crunching sounds filled the room. Isaiah watched as Ven made a show of pouring tea into two teacups, then sliding one to him—so gracefully civilized, as if they were buddies just leisurely hanging out. When Ven took a sip, so did Isaiah.
“There’s a certain kind of rush to acquiring something, be it a small object or something you have wanted for quite a while. When it’s in your hands, it feels like your generosity has been rewarded.” Ven leaned forward. “But it’s nothing compared to taking something you do not mean to pay for: the rush of grabbing what you truly desire without consequences. The power it gives you. It’s a drunk kind of feeling, knowing you can have what you want at any time and there’s nothing others can do about it.”
There was something drunken in the man’s features now as he got lost in reminiscing before refocusing on Isaiah.
“I will take your weapon. And I will take everything you have until you deem yourself ready to tell me what I need to know. It’s only a matter of time until I find the rest of your crew.”
“And if I don’t tell you?”
“Then I won’t stop at just taking.” Ven smirked. “They will be begging for mercy by the time I’m done with them. So will you.”
The tray would do. It had to, especially with the hatred boiling inside Isaiah. He put the fruit he was holding back, fingers tracing the tray. It would break with enough force…but would it guarantee Ven’s death if he plunged it into the man’s neck?
If it didn’t, then his friends would die. Moon and Maddox wouldn’t have a chance. That knowledge was the anchor he needed to pull him out of the dark place and face Ven like he wasn’t raging to kill the man.
“Harsh but impressive. I’m sure you make do with your threats, too. Very well.”
“Let me guess. Are you about to make me another bargain?” Ven asked.
“Yes. Free my mates, and you get it.”
“Give it to me first, then I will free them.”
“Over my dead body, which I’m sure you don’t want, consideringIam the one you need alive. But here’s a little tidbit.” Isaiah finally allowed himself to smirk back. “You kill one of them, and I will kill myself.”
He expected more amusement but found he had hit the jackpot when a different look crossed Ven’s face, showing off a glimpse of that dark interior like before. Note to self: the guy wanted that ghost ship incredibly badly; hence the guy wanted him alive.
Isaiah banked on it as he walked out of the room, ending the conversation before either of them forgot what they had at stake. He paused at the string of pirates ready to lead him away, then hardened when he heard screaming somewhere to their right. The voice was unfamiliar, but it brought tension all the same.
“Keep walking, you asshole,” Pan snapped. “That’s none of your business.”
A hand pushed him hard, and Isaiah reluctantly walked.
“But speaking of something that was once your business…your little girl was pretty special. Screamed hard for me when I fucked her in the alley. But then again, maybe it was because she didn’t want to get taken from behind, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. She took it like a champ, though, and was begging for me when I was done.”
It took him a moment to register, but once it did, the image of Nicola being forced floated in his mind. All coolness he had practiced inside the parlor evaporated into mist as he turned to meet the smug man’s gaze.
“She’s not a little girl. And here’s her begging.”
The fist cracked Pan’s nose until blood spurted out and the man staggered backward. But one shot was all Isaiah got as he was slammed to the ground—and the next thing he knew, the pain was hammering from all directions as he was repeatedly kicked and punched. He curled in on himself until it was over, not moving amid the protest of voices and hands hauling him up. He stayed limp as they dragged him off, noting one important detail once the door was locked: there was no clanging sound and no damp smell from the prison basement.
“Captain!”
