Page 47 of Hush Darling
She did as he said, terrified he’d hurt her again. Her clothes were sopping wet, and the long coat had become impossibly heavy. She looked at the chains and hesitated.
Flipping back his black coat, he flashed the butt of a pistol holstered at his hip. “Do I need my gun?”
Swallowing back a sob, she reluctantly extended her arms. The heavy, metal cuffs closed around her wrists with a click, and she dropped her weighted hands to her lap.
He moved to the other side of the room, where the chain hooked to an iron latch on the wall. She studied her surroundings, categorizing what items might cause the greatest threat to her safety. An antique bed with deep red drapes and a velvet canopy dominated the shadows. The moment she set eyes on the bed, it became harder to breathe.
He turned the crank on the wall and the slack of the chains tightened. Her eyes widened in horror. What sort of person kept chains like this?
Once the limp of the chain hung neatly overhead, giving her only enough freedom to rest her arms, he carried a wooden bucket to the carpet and dropped it by her side.
“W-what’s that?”
“Your privy.”
How long did he plan to keep her chained up like this? “I think there’s been some kind of a mistake.”
“There’s no mistake.” He withdrew his pistol, checked the chamber, then returned it to the holster at his hip. “The boss will be down shortly.”
He wasn’t the boss?
He opened the door.
“Wait. Please!” But he ignored her, and the door locked behind him. “You can’t just leave me here! I’m British!”
Chapter 10
The Devil in Red
Wendy lay on the floor, her cheek cold with tears as she rested her face against the carpet. She decided some time ago that she was better not thinking right now because when her mind worried about what might happen to her, she went into a full-blown panic attack.
Time was hazy. Whatever drugs were in her system had worn off, and there was nothing left to dull the fear. She was going to die here, or worse. She was sure of it.
These men were not interested in negotiating, and their brutality had been more than proven. But she knew it could still get far worse.
She ached for the familiarity of her safe little nursery and would give anything to have that sort of security back. A cage shared with monsters was far worse than any gilded cage her parents locked her in.
What an absolute fool she was. She could have avoided all this if she only knew how unhinged Peter Pangbourne was. She blamed him for bringing her here but also held herself accountable for stupidly trusting a stranger.
What was taking so long?
As much as she dreaded the future, she wanted to know what was coming next. That brute, Jukes, said the boss would be down shortly, but that had to be at least an hour ago.
In the unmoving silence, she studied her surroundings. Despite the lawlessness of this ship, there existed undertones of order, however tyrannical. These pirates were not of the Never Lands or any land. They belonged only to themselves and to the sea. A thought that terrified her, especially as someone who couldn’t swim.
Wendy had always been enchanted by danger, but the truth was, she wasn’t cut out for a world without consequences. She liked order and achievable objectives. Those things didn’t seem to exist here.
How was she going to escape this place? The deck had been strewn with ropes and barrels, plenty of places to hide, but they were at sea, and leaving the ship promised a watery death. Besides, the men outnumbered her at least ten to one.
The ship's rocking turned her stomach as muffled voices passed in the hall. Fear confined her as much as the chains holding her. Soon, something would happen. She didn’t know what, but she sensed it coming closer.
Rolling to her back, she grew still and listened. Minutes passed, perhaps hours. Every now and then, she’d hear masculine voices holler. What happened to everyone at the lagoon? Were they dead? Was anyone left to save her?
Heavy footfalls approached, and her heart jolted into a rapid gallop. She forced herself to stand up despite how frozen and stiff her bones were. This was it. She could not lay helpless on the ground, awaiting her sentence. Whatever was coming for her, she would be prepared. Balling her hands into fists, she rose to her full height, ready to fight.
The metal lock on the door clicked, and the chains rattled as she stepped back. The air left her lungs in a whoosh. Nothing could have prepared her for the man who stepped inside.
Tall and broad, with hair blacker than a raven’s wing, he entered the room and locked the door. His authority was palpable. He was obviously the owner of the ship, perhaps by deed or law, but more so by his presence. When he finally looked at her, she felt him in her stomach.
