Retribution

The rough hands clamped around my waist, their grip firm. Before I could react, I was yanked backward and thrown hard against the deck. Pain erupted through my body; every bone rattled by the impact. I gasped, struggling to catch my breath as salt filled my mouth, the bitter tang intensifying my dizziness. A sharp, brutal kick landed in my side, forcing a groan from deep within my chest. Agony surged through me; each pulse synced with the frantic beat of my heart.

"You ungrateful little bitch," he spat, venom coating every word.
"I've been good to you."

Captain Blackthorn's shadow loomed over me, his presence suffocating. I tried to push myself up, but the pain in my side screamed in protest. He crouched down, gripping a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. His cold, merciless eyes bored into mine.

"You think you can just run?" he hissed, his breath hot against my face.
"Do you know what happens to people who betray me?"

Despite the terror gnawing at my insides, I forced myself to meet his gaze, swallowing my fear.

"I’d rather die than stay here with you," I choked out.


His eyes darkened, a cruel smile curling his lips.

"That can be arranged," he whispered, each word a threat.

He released my hair, letting my head drop back to the deck with a thud. Pain bloomed in my skull, followed swiftly by another vicious kick that sent a fresh wave of agony through my body. I cried out, my voice echoing off the ship’s walls.

"You will learn your place," he growled, towering over me.
"If you don't, I’ll make you regret every moment of your defiance."

With a brutal yank, he grabbed my wrist and hauled me to my feet. My legs buckled, barely able to support me as he dragged me across the deck, the rough wood scraping my knees. We reached the mast, and he wrenched my hands above my head, binding them tightly with a coarse rope. Each twist of the rope bit into my wrists, raw and burning. I winced, swallowing the urge to cry out.

He drew a knife from his belt, slicing through the remnants of my top with a flick of his wrist. The cold sea air bit at my exposed skin, and though the blade never touched me, its threat was palpable. His eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he whistled sharply, summoning the crew.




Within moments, sailors gathered, their expressions ranging from indifferent to intrigued. Mauve, one of the few with a hint of compassion, cast a nervous glance in my direction. Her wide eyes betrayed her fear for me, but she stayed silent.

"Bring me the whip," Blackthorn barked.

His voice was a blade cutting through the murmurs.

"This bitch thought she could escape."
“You all know what happens when somebody defies my orders.”

A few of the crew members chuckled. The crowd hushed as Blackthorn shot them a glare. A burly sailor stepped forward, handing over a coiled whip. Blackthorn let it unfurl with a menacing crack, pacing slowly.

"You thought you could run?"

His voice was a low growl, each word heavy with malice.

"Now you’ll learn the price of defiance."
“It is a pity to mark up that pretty frame of yours.”
“You chose this moment, not me.”

The whip lashed out with a deafening crack, searing pain ripping across my back. I screamed, my knees buckling as the blow stole what little strength I had. Again and again, the whip struck, each blow more brutal than the last. Blood trickled down my skin, warm and sticky. My vision blurred as the pain consumed me, threatening to drag me into unconsciousness. Through the haze, I barely registered the sound of a familiar voice.

"Captain, she's had enough."

James’s voice, steady and urgent, cut through the darkness.

"I’ll decide when she’s had enough," Blackthorn snarled, raising the whip again.

Before the blow could land, James stepped between us. The whip wrapped around his wrist with a vicious snap, leaving a deep welt. He didn’t flinch, his eyes locked on Blackthorn.

"Fine, brother.”
“Have it your way," Blackthorn spat, his face twisted with frustration.
"Get her out of my sight."

With a final glare, Blackthorn stormed off, disappearing into his quarters. The crew shifted uncomfortably, their eyes on James as he carefully untied the ropes binding my wrists. My arms dropped limply, the pain in my shoulders sharp and unrelenting. James knelt beside me, his face lined with concern.

"Can you stand?"

I tried to nod, but my body refused to cooperate. James wrapped his cloak around my shoulders. Gently, he slipped an arm around my waist and lifted me to my feet. My legs trembled, but he held me steady, guiding me across the deck as curious eyes followed our every move.

We made our way across the deck. I could feel the eyes of the crew on us. James guided me below deck, his grip steady and reassuring. Each step was a struggle, my body protesting with every movement.

Below deck, James led me to his quarters, a small, tidy space filled with the smell of salt and cedar. He gently lowered me onto the bed, positioning me on my stomach to avoid further aggravating my wounds.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, voice heavy with regret.
"This is going to hurt."

I braced myself as his skilled hands tended to my injuries, cleaning the cuts and bruises with a steady, careful touch. The pain was sharp, but I bit my lip, determined not to scream. After what felt like an eternity, James finished, his expression weary but relieved.



"All done," he said softly, his voice thick with compassion.
"Now you just need to rest."

He tucked the blanket around me, his hands gentle as he spoke.

"You’ll stay here tonight.”
“I’ll deal with my brother in the morning."

Exhaustion overwhelmed me, and despite the pain, I drifted into a restless sleep, James's presence the only source of comfort in the storm of my suffering.