Page 62 of Wicked Tides
He stared into my eyes, listening to my every word. I lifted my chin, tempting him. It would be easy. I had a slender neck and he had a grip that could break it.
But he didn’t.
The moment I felt the slightest hint of hardness brush up between my legs, Vidar stood up straight, that edge returning to his eyes. I could see every muscle in his jaw pulse as he walked around the table and yanked the knife from my chain. I slowly sat up, watching him circle back around with the knife in his hand like he was thinking of just cutting my throat and being done with it.
That would suffice, I supposed, though it was terribly unexciting.
“I am not on your side,” I continued, realizing the moment was over.
“Then you are on theirs.”
“Did it look like I was?”
“Then whose side are you on, Dahlia?”
I could not answer that. I did not truly know myself. I blinked, unable to form an answer. When Vidar knew he would get nothing out of me, he gestured toward my new wound with the tip of his knife, keeping his distance.
“More scars to add to your canvas,” he said.
I remained silent, my thoughts a mess of broken puzzle pieces. Finally, Vidar sheathed his blade and stepped forward, grasping my arm. He led me out of his cabin, across the deck, and down into the hold where Meridan was standing alert at the bars of the cell, waiting. When she saw me, she let out a relieved sigh. Gus was there, pistol drawn as Vidar unlocked the gate and pushed me inside. When he locked the gate again, I turned to look at him, irritated he hadn’t uncuffed me.
“I need sleep. Perhaps you’ll be more talkative in the morning.”
And with that, he and Gus left the hold, surrendering Meridan and me to the darkness of our prison. We hugged only when we knew wewere alone and I could feel her trembling. She had heard the battle and the cries of our sisters as well as I had.
What mess had we gotten ourselves into? We had no place among our own kind and we had no place among men. We were trapped in limbo, fighting for something we could not even understandanymore.
~ 24 ~
Vidar
I am the hate and rage of a hundred men.
I am the last dawn you will ever see.
~The God, Ferros
18 Years Ago
I remembered little. I waited as the girl had said and when it was time, I crawled out of my cage and went quickly to pick up Softscale from the ground where all the men’s weapons had been piled. Then I crept to Gus, prying the spike out of his hands to free him. He was barely conscious, but he was alive, even if he had one less eye.
And then, the rest happened as if I was possessed. I was outside myself, watching it all unfold. I slaughtered them all. I slaughtered every last one of them as they slept. Their hot blood drenched my body and I reveled in it. I made my way to each one of them, one by one, until the last one woke to see her sister’s dead around her. Reyna. She yelled out as I drove a blade into her gut, drawing out her pain as she writhed. I savored it, hoping I would never forget the look in her eyes as she died.
It was for my father. For the crew of the Mother’s Fang. For Gus’s fucking eye. For me. Had the girl not let me out of my cage, I would not have been able to catch them off guard. Their bellies were fat and their bodies were slow like wolves after a huge winter meal.
They all deserved to die. They deserved worse.
I was staring at the bloody bodies spread out before me, proud. I deserved my vengeance, but in my rage, I didn’t even realize the girl wasn’t among them. Then I heard her screams. She came barreling down the hill. She must have wandered off and returned when she heard her sister dying. Part of me didn’t want to kill her, but part of me did. She would grow up to be just like her mother one day. I knew it.
Leave none alive. Everyone knew that in revenge, survivors always messed things up. She was a survivor.
When she charged me, I raised my father’s cutlass, ready to gut her, but I hesitated. Damn my body. Damn my mind. They were at war with each other and that little hiccup allowed the girl to tackle me to the ground. She was rabid. Madness had overtaken her at the sight of the massacre, but what right did she have to blame me?
“You promised you’d leave!” she cried out.
“I will kill every last one of you!” I roared, trying to wrestle her off of me.
She ripped the cutlass out of my hand and tossed it aside. I lifted my hands to push her away, my fingers grabbing for her throat.
