without forgiveness? I didn’t think so. It was time that I removed my invisible chains.
In the tenebrous, rotting heat of my prison, I let go of the scorn, freed the bitterness, and relinquished the anger. I forgave the two men I loved, completely and unconditionally. Not for their sakes. I did it for me. A final gift to myself.
I felt stronger for it, lighter, braver. It gave me an overwhelming sense of solace, even in this deathly place.
When my captors returned again, I didn’t fight them. Instead, I focused the last of my energy on holding my head high.
If they were to remove the gag and blindfold, they would find neither shame nor fear on my face. They would see relief, for I’d been reduced so low in the hole that I basked in every gulp of uncontaminated air I breathed.
But it was more than that. They’d taken so much from me, tried so hard to break my spirit. But I was still me. Only bolder. Sturdier. Shatterproof. I was a woman who loved and forgave and found peace in her darkest hour.
I was the pirate captain Bennett Sharp.
When the faceless man fell upon me, like all the times before, I appointed him no identity. No name. No rank. He was an inanimate object. Meaningless. Powerless.
As he rutted and grunted his onion stench atop my body, I didn’t cry. Didn’t make a sound. He seemed frustrated by this, his hands ripping at my hair. His knuckles pounding against my back. His hips ramming harder. More brutally. More bruises. I bit down on the rag and bore it. I held onto my peace.
Until the door of the hatchway creaked open.
Boots pummeled down the ladder. One pair…two pairs… Three…?
My breath froze, and my tormentor fell still, impaled inside me.
Not once had anyone ever entered the hold while I was being abused. This man worked alone. No witnesses. But whoever was down here charged straight toward him and forcibly wrenched him off and out of my body.
Then the world erupted in chaos.
It couldn’t be well described, for I lacked sight, voice, and movement. But I heard horrifying things—boots frantically scuffing, fists smacking flesh, bones crunching, and the gurgling cries of dying men.
Was it the admiral? One of his soldiers? Were my abusers not supposed to be down here hurting me?
Or had Priest found me and sneaked aboard the ship?
My heart thundered as a battle waged behind me. The metallic stench of blood flooded my nostrils. A man began to scream, but the roar cut off. A heavy thump slammed against the planks, followed by the continuous sound of something being pounded with a heavy object.
Oh, dear sweet God, please don’t let that be Priest beneath those blows.
Over and over, the dull striking noise repeated, echoing through the hold. The longer it lasted, the wetter it sounded. Like the smack and crush of blood and organs and other vital things.
There were no grunts. No whispers of life beyond my muffled wheezing. Just the ominous thump, thump, thump.
Dread twisted knots in my stomach. If Priest were only feet away, he would’ve come for me, reassured me. He would’ve called out and said something to calm my hysterics.
I jerked harder against the barrel, rattling my shackles and screaming against the gag.
The thumping sound stopped.
My breath seized.
Boots creaked as someone shifted. Then footsteps advanced.
A warning chill shot up my spine as I listened to those steps. They grew closer. I listened harder, really listened, recognizing the confident heel to toe rhythm.
My entire body came alive, tingling, gasping, shaking. Christ almighty, I shook so hard the tremors struck agony through every muscle and joint.
He was the highlight of my life, someone I looked forward to seeing desperately, frantically. As I lay strapped to the barrel, concentrating on the cadence of his approach, every second felt timeless. Endless. Hurry.
Hands swept through my hair, long fingers stiff and trembling. He was shaking as viciously as I was, worse even, as he unraveled the blindfold and removed the gag.
I blinked rapidly against the sudden light, impatient to see him. Then I did.
Cold blue eyes.
Full lips pulled back into a snarl.
A savage expression bathed in so many layers of fresh blood it was unrecognizable.
“Ashley.”
“How many times?” Ashley’s voice scrubbed against my raw senses, grinding like jagged rocks.
He didn’t sound like himself. Didn’t look anything like the man I knew.
Gone was the demeanor of an aristocrat. Not just because of the thick blood dripping from his face. Or the sanguine clots of gore