Shattered Resolve

Mauve hurried to my side, her hand gripping my arm with firm urgency.

“We need to get you back on the ship.”

We reached the deck. I turned, just in time to see my father’s ship consumed by flames. The fire devoured the sails, a once-mighty vessel now reduced to burning wreckage. A wave of despair crashed over me, sharp and unrelenting.

Mauve didn’t hesitate, steering me below deck, away from the destruction above. The narrow corridors felt suffocating in the dim light. Once we were alone, she finally spoke, her voice low but brimming with frustration.

“What were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that last night?” she snapped, her gaze piercing, demanding answers.

I met her eyes, my resolve solid, though fear gnawed at my insides.

“I cannot stay here, married to that man,” I replied, my voice steady, though a hint of desperation slipped through.
“You don’t have a choice,” Mauve shot back, sharp and unyielding.
“You threw away any chance of him going easy on you.”

Her hand reached for my cheek, intending comfort, but I flinched. The bruises from last night’s punishment throbbed beneath my skin, painful reminders of my defiance—and its consequences.

“Come on,” Mauve said, her tone softening slightly.
“The captain demands your presence in his quarters.”

I nodded, following her down the ship’s narrow passageways. Before we reached the captain’s door, the sound of glass shattering stopped us in our tracks. Mauve’s grip tightened on my arm, and she pushed the door open cautiously. A sense of dread clung to me, thick as fog.

The scene inside froze my blood. James lay crumpled on the floor, his body eerily still. Blood smeared his face, mingling with the grime of the ship’s planks. His eye was swollen, a dark bruise forming from the violence he’d endured. Broken glass littered the floor around him, catching the dim light in cruel, jagged fragments.

“Mauve, take James below deck and clean him up,” Captain Blackthorn ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.
“Yes, Captain,” Mauve replied, though her voice was tight with concern.

She knelt quickly, lifting James with surprising strength. His body hung limp in her arms, his breathing ragged and shallow. I reached out instinctively, but Mauve shook her head, her expression a silent warning. Captain Blackthorn shut the door behind them, sealing me in with him. His bloodied hands curled into fists at his sides, the air thick with menace.

“The crew says you slept in James's quarters last night,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
“Were you intimate with him?”
“No, Master.”
“He only tended to my wounds.”

His hand shot out, gripping my throat with brutal force. The collar bit into my skin, cutting off my breath. I gasped, struggling to speak as pain flared through my body. I forced myself to meet his gaze, refusing to let the fear that churned within me show. His eyes burned with rage, searching mine for any hint of deceit. My resolve didn’t falter, though my body trembled with the effort.

His grip tightened, the air thinning in my lungs. Then, without warning, he shoved me to the floor. Pain exploded through my body as I hit the rough wooden planks, shards of glass biting into my skin. I bit down hard to stifle a scream, the taste of blood filling my mouth.

His boot collided with my side, the force of the blow knocking the wind from my lungs. I curled into myself, instinctively trying to protect my battered body from further assault. There was no escape from his cruelty, no refuge from the relentless storm of violence.

His laughter echoed through the room, chilling and malevolent. He loomed over me like a shadow of death, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. To him, I was nothing more than a pawn—a plaything to break at will.

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms as I fought to hold on to the last threads of dignity. Each blow, each cruel taunt, pushed me closer to the edge of despair. I let the darkness take me. When I awoke, the smell of blood and shattered glass filled my senses. I lay in the wreckage of my suffering, Captain Blackthorn’s towering form casting a cold shadow over me. His grin was wicked, devoid of any trace of humanity.

“Get up, pet,” he commanded, his voice laced with malice.

I struggled to push myself up, but my arms shook under the weight of my pain. A shard of glass pierced my palm, sending fresh waves of agony through me. I bit my lip to stifle the cry that rose in my throat. My arms gave out, and I collapsed again onto the floor, broken glass embedding deeper into my skin. There was no mercy in Captain Blackthorn’s gaze, only cold, calculated cruelty.

He yanked me up by the wrists, dragging me across the room with a force that left me gasping. My legs trembled beneath me, but resistance was futile. We reached the small bathroom, and my heart plummeted. The steaming tub awaited me, a fresh surge of panic surging through my veins. I knew what was coming. I fought, but it was useless.

With a swift motion, he tore the dress from my body, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. The air reeked of blood and fear as he gripped my hair, yanking me toward the tub with brutal force. He forced me into the scalding water. I couldn’t suppress the scream as the heat seared my skin. The water stung my wounds, turning red with my blood.



Tears streamed down my face as the loose glass shards detached from my flesh, leaving behind throbbing, open wounds. Once satisfied, he yanked me from the tub, his grip unrelenting. I crumpled before him, my body trembling with exhaustion and pain. He shoved a nightgown at me. I slipped it over my aching form, every movement a fresh wave of torment. Without a word, he dragged me toward the cage. I tried to stand. He pushed me down to my knees.

“I did not tell you to get up,” he sneered.
“On your knees is where I want you tonight.”