Gild (The Plated Prisoner #1) - Raven Kennedy Page 0,82

a guard who was kind to each and every one of them, I’m the outsider. I’m on my own.

Captain Fane laughs. “Not even your fellow whores are willing to help you.” His voice is so thoroughly pleased.

I sniff, forcing myself to keep it together, to not give up. Sail didn’t give up, not for a second. I can do no less for him.

I will do this.

I heave again, ribbons straining, pulling at the skin of my back, like sewing needles threaded through the muscles.

Captain Fane takes a taunting step closer to me. Close, but not close enough for my ribbons to lash at him. He studies them, taking in the way they curl, the way they tug. Vile eyes flick up, a crooked smile showing off those few wooden teeth. “Look, Reds. A true fuck puppet. She even comes with her own strings.”

Mocking mirth surrounds me. Their laughter horrible, their words worse.

I block it all out, my teeth clenched so tightly together that my jaw jumps. Amidst the ongoing snickering, I manage another hefty tug, and I get Sail’s body propped up at last.

My back screams with fire, while rain and sweat drip along my spine, but it’s nearly enough...it’s nearly there...

The captain’s mouth curves up in cruel amusement as he watches me continue to struggle. I must look pitiful, pulling a guard who’s nearly a hundred pounds heavier than me, soaking wet in a puddle.

“Are you trying to jump overboard and ride your dead guard like a sled?” the captain asks, making some of the pirates behind him chuckle.

He holds up his arms and turns full circle, displaying the desolate land all around. “Hate to break it to you, but we’re in the middle of the Barrens, you stupid cunt. You’re not going anywhere.”

My body shakes, my ribbons strain. But I don’t give up. I don’t give in.

The captain steps closer, testing my boundaries, pecking at me, looking for an opening.

In a snap decision, I wrap the remaining two ribbons around Sail, leaving me defenseless to the captain’s advances. All of this will be pointless if I don’t.

The last two ribbons give me the extra strength I need.

Captain Fane lunges for me, but he’s too late, because I’ve hauled Sail’s body up and over the side. The second I do, my ribbons unwind from his body, passing him over to gravity’s clutches, and he falls.

Falls, falls, falls, landing right in a pile of pillowed snow far below.

I lean over, watching, chest heaving, dropping icicle tears into the rain as our ship slides past.

A blink, and Captain Fane is there, snatching my ribbons in a vise-like grip. He crushes them together in his fist, yanking them tight against my spine, my back arching painfully.

“You foolish bitch. All that fuss, and you failed. Couldn’t even manage to make the jump.”

He yanks me away from the railing and starts to drag me away, but he’s wrong. I wasn’t trying to escape. I never intended to jump. I couldn’t survive the fall anyway, and they’d only catch me if I managed to somehow make it.

No, I accomplished exactly what I meant to. I got Sail away from here. Away from these pirates, off this ship.

His place of rest might be a mound of snow in the middle of the Barrens, but it’s better than the alternative. I couldn’t let him stay strung up for a second longer.

I get pulled harshly, quickly across the deck, toward the captain’s quarters, toward that punishment his eyes promised.

“You can’t disrespect his body anymore,” I say boldly. Bright side. It’s the only bright side I have right now to cling to, as bleak and grim as it is.

Captain Fane’s grip tightens on my ribbons in anger at my words. They’re tired, wet, and wilted, crushed in his hold and sapped of strength, same as me.

“Fine,” he says against my neck as he leads me on. “Then I suppose I’ll just disrespect yours.”

Chapter Thirty

If my poor ribbons weren’t crumpled and stuffed in Captain Fane’s fists like wet parchment, if they weren’t so exhausted and waterlogged, I might be able to rip them from his grasp and defend myself. I might be able to fight back.

Unfortunately, his hold is firm, pulling so harshly that my muscles and skin burn with every movement. If he pulls any harder, it feels as if he’ll rip them clean from my back, like yanking off a finger or plucking out an eye.

I try and fail to get them to rip out of his hands,