Adrift

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So sorry that this chapter has taken so long. I started it quite a while back but my progress was interrupted by a trip to New York to see, among other things, Exit the King. Got lucky enough to have a brief one-on-one encounter with the man responsible for bringing my beloved Hector to life, too, so I think I can be forgiven for the delay in posting, right?

Thank you again, Ero Sennin and Lynne, for your kind reviews. You have no idea how much a few heartfelt words inspire me to keep the story going. And RF, a HUGE thank you for your exemplary edits and suggestions - so glad I have you to give my tale that extra 'umph' that it needs!

I hope you'll all feel that the long wait for this latest installment was worth it!

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A thunderous storm of bullets suddenly tore through the front of the shack, shattering every window and leaving behind holes that quickly filled with speckled sunlight. Jack instinctively threw his arms up over his head and dropped to the floor as chunks of wood rained down upon him, wriggling forward on his elbows until he’d reached the rickety old table. He jerked on the legs and it tipped forward with a dull thud, offering a somewhat suspect barrier behind which he could scramble for cover. Calypso vanished as swiftly as she’d appeared, once again abandoning them when they most needed her help.

Hector grabbed Elizabeth and dragged her behind the heavy bedchamber door. He pressed her against the inside wall, sheltering her with his body and holding her tightly against him as splinters flew and shells burrowed into the walls around them. In the room beside them, the bottles hanging from the ceiling exploded as they were struck and a gag-inducing stench filled the tiny hovel. Elizabeth buried her face against Hector’s chest, clamping her hands over her ears to find some muted peace in the midst of the barrage. Her heart slammed against her ribs with such force that she was certain that she would have been able to hear it if not for the horrible cacophony.

Although it seemed to go on forever, the onslaught lasted less than a minute. As abruptly as it had begun, the gunfire ceased and for a moment or two, the absence of sound echoed in her ears almost as painfully as had the noise. Elizabeth slowly lifted her head and looked into Hector’s face, staring at him as she waited for the shooting to begin again.

“Caught in our own trap,” he growled, his jaw set and his eyes blazing furiously. “And without a proper weapon with which to defend ourselves.”

“The guns...” she said, her heart sinking. She swallowed hard, the fear tightening her throat. They’d brought along plenty of fire power; unfortunately, it was all in the boats with the crew and too far away to be of any use. Their best hope was that the Blackhearts would make their way back in time to provide much-needed reinforcements.

“Barbossa! Have I got your attention? Or did I get lucky and blow your head off – in which case, don’t feel you need to answer right away!”

The two of them paused and listened to the hail. It was a man, ‘though not one familiar to Elizabeth. It seemed to have come from across the brook, a wheedling taunt with a faint Spanish accent. Loud, rough guffaws followed the declaration and Elizabeth watched Hector’s expression grow cold. “That be Villanueva…and his Centurions,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“Roman soldiers? What are you talking about?” she asked, perplexed.

He grimaced. “Nay, not soldiers…bikers. Another club, one as has coveted Blackheart territory fer years. Closest thing to real enemies as we’ve got, ‘though they’ve not been much of a threat fer all that. ‘Til now, in any case.”

“What do they have to do with any of this? It can’t be coincidence,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head.

“If they be here, likely it is that Beckett has brought them in and fer the purpose of finishin’ us off once an’ fer all. T’was a smart move, ye must give the credit to Beckett. He took pains to learn who his best allies would be and the reward he’d need offer as would best ensure their loyalty.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. Her ears were still pounding from the roar of gunfire and the tension of the moment was not helping the horrible ache in the least. “Beckett gets the mirror and offers up your operation to the Centurions in exchange for their service as mercenaries.”

“Somethin’ like that, aye.” His head slumped forward and his voice was coloured with tired disgust. “Too arrogant I was to believe that we couldn’t be followed here. Not half so clever as I thought meself and now we find ourselves in a fight we cannot win.”

“Well, there has to be something we can do! Maybe there are muskets or swords hidden around this place. Even if they’re old, they’d be better than nothing at all…” she stated determinedly, trying not to sound as desperate as she had started to feel. “We’re not just going to give up!”

“’Lizabeth,” Hector said quietly, taking her firmly by the shoulders and staring down at her, “I need ye to listen to me now and not give me any back talk. There be many a way out of this here shack…Tia Dalma made sure of that. Ye must take me dagger and attempt an escape. If they rush us, I won’t be able to protect ye but I can distract ‘em long enough that ye can get away.”

Elizabeth felt her stomach twist with wretched disbelief…it wasn’t the first time that a man had tried to get her to safety knowing full well that he’d likely not survive the battle. She grabbed hold of his arms, holding tightly enough that her fingernails scored little crescents into his skin. “No! You can't mean that!”

“Barbossa!” hollered their distant assailant, drawing their focus from one another. “I’m not an unreasonable man! Give up now, and I’ll let you and your men leave the island with whatever we didn’t already burn to a cinder.”

“Lying bastard,” snorted Jack from the other side of the door. “No way he’ll let any of us live. Well he knows that we’d hack him to pieces first chance we got.”

“Answer Villanueva!” Elizabeth told Hector, pulling away from him and stepping back out into the room. “Keep him talking, buy us some time! Maybe the crew will make it back in time to help us.” He tried to catch her but she dodged his attempt and slipped back into the main room. So far as she was concerned, the time for talking was finished.

“We can’t count upon the crew, girl,” he said gently, following her out. “Ye think that they’ve not already captured me men? ‘Tis what I’d have done – to make sure we had no chance left at all.”

She was getting angry now. “You can’t know that!” she erupted, pointing a shaky finger at him. “Maybe Villanueva’s crew didn’t see where the men went…they could be on their way back to us already! We’re not finished – not even close!” Elizabeth didn’t wait for an answer but instead whirled and flew up the stairs, determined to find something – anything – with which they could defend themselves.

The rafters were low and she had to duck frequently as she moved through the shadowy garret, tipping over chests and yanking aside heavy sheets of canvas in a manic search. They’d fought their way out of worse situations before and she knew that they could do it again. A few well-placed shots, that’s all it would take…they only needed to hold off the Centurions until help could arrive.

Elizabeth heard the slow, steady tromp of Hector’s boots behind her on the steps but she refused to turn despite feeling his gaze settle on her. She continued her panicked hunt amongst the refuse and heard something metallic clunk against the floor as she knocked over a wooden crate. Her heart jumped with hope as she groped around and she cried out triumphantly as she found the handle of an ancient pistol. Falling to her knees, she began to dig through frantically under the debris, trying to find powder and shot to go along with it.

“They’ll not wait much longer before they start to shootin’ again,” Hector murmured, crouching at her side. He took the dilapidated gun from her and she snarled in protest as he tossed it to the side. Taking her hands and folding them within his, he said, “My love, ye cannot stay.”

“Stop saying that!” she cried as she wrenched herself from his embrace, the sight of him blurring as tears began to pool in her eyes. “If this is the end, then at the very least we’ll be together. I’m not going to leave you…”

“Listen to what I be tellin ye,” he insisted brusquely. He took her hands again and squeezed them harder to make sure he had her attention. “I’ll hear none of that from yer lips. If ye think I’ll be rollin’ over fer the likes of Beckett and Villanueva, ye don’t know me so well as I thought. From where we sit in this tree, Sparrow an’ me can stand against any assault they care to launch...a few wounds more fer us won’t make any difference, and so long as we can coax the Centurions into wasting’ their ammunition upon the house, we can dispatch ‘em one by one as they attempt to enter. But ye...” Hector closed his lids and sighed heavily before looking back at her with stormy blue eyes. “It would take but a single stray shot and ye’d be gone. Don’t ye ask me to take such a chance.”

“But you’re willing to ask it of me, aren’t you?” Elizabeth snapped, her fright over the thought of leaving him behind shortening her temper even further.

“Enough!” he barked, and pulled her to her feet. “Do ye believe that I’ve lived so long as I have and gone through hell to win yer heart only to up and die on ye now? Tell me true – have ye forgotten who I be, woman? Or what I be?!”

She knew…more than anyone, she knew who and what he was - fierce, brave, ruthless and relentless. Her lover, her captain. And as much as she believed in his ability and courage, too often fate had dealt him an unfair hand, and there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t happen again. “We could invoke Calypso’s name and beg her to get us out of this nightmare…” she began tentatively but he shook his head.

“Even if t’were possible fer her to grant us such a favour, we’ve nothin’ left with which to bargain. Bound to her we be already – Sparrow, meself, me crew – and set we are to do her will. She’d not listen.”

“What do you mean, if it was possible? She’s a goddess, isn’t she? Besides, by my accounts, she owes you something for all that you’ve been put through,” Elizabeth said indignantly.

“Ye don’t understand, lass, and we haven’t the time fer a history lesson...” Hector sighed, drawing her back towards the stairwell. “Suffice it to say that the powers of a deity are only so strong as the sum of men who heed her call. Nowadays, those of us as revere the ancient ones are few...and once we’re gone, there’ll be none left to sustain her. Nay, ye must believe in her to be moved by her influence – and so she cannot touch them as stand against us.”

“Then what bloody good is she?!” Elizabeth screamed, letting out her anguish. She braced her feet against the floor in a last ditch attempt to fight her forced departure.

Hector’s eyes glinted dangerously at her resistance and he shook her once, hard. “Ye try me patience and act the fool now! Every moment ye delay means that the enemy comes one step closer to victory. Keep up this mule-headedness and ye’ll put all of us at risk! No good comes from hopin’ for help where none will be forthcomin’. We have to rely upon our wits...and ye need to give me yer trust once more.”

She glared defiantly at him but her resolve wavered at the desperate fear she saw in his expression. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered, giving up the struggle. “Not without you.”

“I know. But ye must. We cannot leave the mirror to Beckett.”

Feeling broken and despondent, she finally nodded her agreement and allowed him lead her back down the stairs to the main floor.

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Despite the slickness of the mud beneath her feet and the grim darkness of the cramped, narrow tunnel, Elizabeth raced as quickly as she could towards the faint daylight ahead. Dangling roots from the surrounding trees reached out to snag her hair and whipped against her arms and legs, but she shrugged off the brief flashes of pain without a thought. She could already hear stifled gunfire from far behind her and there wasn’t a second to spare.

She slid wildly in a slimy puddle of dank water for a moment and let out a squeak of surprise, but quickly regained her balance and continued on her urgent mission. Despite what Hector had said, she knew that all hopes of victory rested on her getting to the crew – and doing so before it was too late.

After leading her down the steps, Hector had decided that her best escape route was through the hollow centre of the tree and down to a tunnel that had long ago been hewn through the limestone. It ended a good mile away from the tree, far enough away from the skirmish that neither Beckett nor his hired goons would spot her when she finally emerged.

Leaving Hector had been a worse ordeal than she’d been capable of imagining. As Jack forced open the warped boards that hid the trap door in the middle of the house, Hector tried to take her in his arms...tried to say goodbye. She’d pulled away and turned her back on him before slipping into the damp chute through the tree’s trunk, knowing that in doing so she had hurt him deeply. It wasn’t that she was angry at him for making her leave – she understood, knew that he felt it was right to do so.

But if they said their farewells...if she accepted one last, lingering kiss before going...it might have been the last one ever and that was not something that Elizabeth could accept. She knew that until the darkness had enfolded her entirely, he’d watched her descend through the painfully narrow shaft– one that neither he nor Jack would have been able to navigate – but she’d not allowed herself even one look back. It would have been her undoing.

But what if it was the last time she’d ever see him alive and she’d not taken that final opportunity to let him know how much she loved him...how despite the unlikelihood of their pairing, he had come to mean everything to her? The possibility wasn’t something that could bear consideration, so instead of dwelling on the regret that threatened to rend her heart in two, she decided to focus on getting to safety and ensuring that she would have the chance to make it up to him.

Elizabeth glanced down at the heavy dagger Hector had pressed into her hand and clenched the hilt tightly, making a silent vow to herself that she’d not let it go until she could return it to its rightful owner. Her own promise brought with it a sudden, staggering realization of what that same kind of vow had meant to Will Turner so long ago...and an understanding of the driving obsession he’d followed to save his father even if it had almost come at the expense of the lives – and love – of all others.

She came to a faltering stop and stood for a few seconds, thinking back on that time. His fixation on his quest should have been a sure sign that she and Will were not meant for one another – as noble as his goal had been, it had too easily eclipsed everything else in this life and most notably, his feelings for her. Had she known how things would have gone in the long run, she’d not have agreed to marry him. Not that day of the battle and not any other day. How little Will had changed between centuries...perhaps the fact that they had drifted apart like they had in the present day meant that the same could not be said of her.

Another faint burst of gunfire startled her and set her to running again. Dim light began to brighten the narrow warren and a fresh burst of energy propelled her forward. She clawed at the dirt that had, over time, fallen to block the way out. Soil wedged itself beneath her fingernails and her heart pounded in her chest as a wave of unexpected claustrophobia swept over her, and she dug even faster to widen the gap. Finally there was enough space through which she could squeeze and she wriggled through the opening, reborn from the earth onto a soft bed of ferns that had long camouflaged the hole.

Elizabeth lay staring up at the fair blue sky, gasping in cleaner and considerably fresher air until she calmed down. She listened carefully but could not hear anything...the silence was malevolent and cold, worse than the gunshots by far. Scrambling to her feet, she looked around to orient herself and then started back towards the brook, circling around what she judged to be the perimeter of the conflict. The direction she chose was the same one in which she’d seen the Blackhearts take the boats.

Branches and long grass whipped at her legs and stung even through the material of her pants. She tried to move quietly but finally abandoned the idea, choosing speed over stealth as she loped through the bush and around gnarled trees. The sun was high and the day was hot, making her sweat through her light cotton clothing in a matter of minutes. Her hatred of Beckett grew with every stride, as did her determination to save Hector and his men.

A sinuous movement at her feet drew her eye and she caught sight of a coral snake in her path – generally nonaggressive but potentially lethal all the same. She staggered to a halt and it was at that moment that she was sure she’d heard faint male voices wafting through the forest. The small, colourful serpent stopped moving as well, seeming to regard her curiously for a moment before it slithered away and hid itself within the confines of a rotting log. She waited a prudent amount of time to ensure that it had indeed moved on and then started forward again, listening intently as she stalked through the brush.

A laugh...a harsh yell...she was still too far away to hear the words, but there was no doubt that there were people ahead. Elizabeth wiped at the perspiration that slid from her brow and down over her face, blinking hard to keep the sweat out of her eyes. The voices increased in volume as she crept closer, crouching in shadow and parting the flora to see what lay ahead.

She saw a small lagoon, overhung with peat and draping branches. The Blackheart boats were moored on the shoreline, the tarps intact and the craft bobbing around as the waves gently lapped the dark sandy beach. Lined up in front of the boats were Hector’s crewmen, their arms above their heads and their expressions twisted with rage. A handful of burly, bearded men with unfamiliar leather cuts – the Centurions, of course – moved around them, jabbing them in the ribs with the long barrels of their assault weapons. And overseeing it all from a respectable distance was Jim Norrington, an Uzi held slackly in his hands and a sickened look on his face as he witnessed the spectacle. The night must have been a rough one for him, she guessed…he had gone without shaving, wore the same clothes he’d had on at the safe house, and his eyes were red and pouched.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, willing him to feel the weight of her fury. Traitorous bastard! Bad enough that he’d been party to her abduction, but she suspected he was in far deeper than he’d thought possible. No doubt he’d attempt to justify his actions in his own mind, draping them in the guise of superior motives, righteousness and concern for her. There was no compassion in her left for him, though...and as much as he’d used his friendship with her to deceive her, so would she press her advantage and use the guilt with which he was so clearly struggling to achieve her own ends. In so much as he’d betrayed her, she knew he wouldn’t risk harming her physically.

She slunk around the edge of the clearing, keeping a close eye on the bikers and wincing as one of them swung the butt of his gun up and across Pintel’s face. Despite the blood that bubbled from the wounds in his mouth, the balding pirate grinned and widened his eyes maniacally at his assailant, causing the thug to take an instinctive step back despite having the upper hand. Elizabeth smiled – the Centurions were bold so long as they had the advantage, but she wondered if they’d have any courage at all if they had to face her comrades in a fair fight. It was her goal that they have the chance to find out exactly that.

Jim was so focused on the scuffle that she was able to take up a position only a few feet behind him without his noticing. She crouched low and undid the laces on her boots – thank goodness Marilyn had not owned ones with jingling buckles – and stepped out with sock feet onto the forest floor, all the better to muffle her advance.

Her movement caught Ragetti’s one good eye and he quickly looked elsewhere in order to not give her away, nudging Flaherty with his shoulder and whispering something covertly. As she inched closer to her target, she saw word spread throughout the Blackheart contingent and Ansill gave a sweeping glance around the treeline, settling briefly on her before continuing on. He leaned closer to Pintel, whose expression didn’t change in the least but who nodded once to acknowledge whatever message had been passed down the line.

Before she could take another surreptitious step, Pintel turned and shoved Ansill hard, nearly knocking him over. “This is your bloody fault, ain’t it? Always actin’ all high and mighty, an’ here we bin caught!” Pintel screamed. “An’ now me pricy dental work is ruined, ye mangy weasel!”

“Oi! As if havin’ good teef made up fer the rest of yer ugly mug!” yelled Flaherty, reaching over to smack Pintel in the back of the head. “Lipstick on a pig, says I!”

“Get your hands back in the air!” yelled one of the Centurions, waving his gun back and forth in front of the brawling pirates. “You do it or I’m gonna give you good reason to make noise!”

Jim took a few strides forward, raising his own weapon as he took in the fight. Elizabeth followed quickly behind, gripping the dagger tightly as she approached. “Look ‘oos talkin’!” she heard Ragetti pipe up. “Yer face could scare off the Kraken!” Flaherty roared and leapt over top of Pintel, grabbing Ragetti by the shoulders and dragging him to the ground.

Soon all of the pirates were rolling around in the muck, throwing punches and screaming curses at one another. The Centurions were standing around them in a circle, caught up in the fisticuffs while they laughed and hollered insults at the men writhing at their feet. Elizabeth heard Jim chuckle to himself a bare second before she threw her arm around his neck and laid the dagger across his throat. “Glad you’re enjoying the show,” she hissed into his ear, “seeing as it was put on for your benefit and all.”

“Beth!” Jim gasped, shaky relief in his voice as he attempted to turn and face her, “I’m so glad you’re okay! Beckett was furious, I was sure…”

She jerked her arm tighter and pressed the blade hard against his skin, drawing a moan and a few drops of blood. His muscles went rigid and he started to lift his hands upwards. “No! As you were, Deputy Marshall. I’d hate to spoil the surprise for your new friends. Interesting company you’ve chosen to keep, I must say. And to think back on those disparaging remarks you made about the Blackhearts. Tsk tsk.”

“Please,” he said, using his most official tone, “if you’ll just give me a minute to explain…”

Her anger flared white hot at his words and she grabbed him by his hair, tilting his head back and exposing his neck even further. “There is NO TIME! Hector is under attack right now, thanks to you, and I need the men. Besides, there is nothing you can say that will make what you did seem okay.”

“You can’t help him now,” he asserted peevishly, bracing his feet to keep from being pulled down. “If you’d just given Beckett what he wanted, this would be over and we could…”

“Lift the barrel of your gun. DO IT!” she snapped. Norrington was startled into complying and as the sight came up, she said, “Aim nice and high, won’t you? I want to be sure that it’s only the Centurions who are hit.” She grabbed his hand, the one on the trigger, and tightened her fingers over top of his.

The Uzi started spitting out rounds, the recoil painfully jerking her fingers and arm as she swung it in an erratic semi-circle. The enemy bikers were mowed down before they’d even realized that someone was firing on them, geysers of blood exploding from their backs and their bodies jolting with the force of the slugs ploughing through leather and flesh.

She didn’t release the trigger until the last Centurian had toppled over and the threat had been assuredly eliminated. As the sound of the shots faded in the glen, Pintel jumped off the ground and pumped his fist into the air. “Yes, missy! That’s the way! Blimy, ye’d think ye were born to it! Ha!” Pinned beneath a dead Centurion, Ragetti was making desperate noises and kicking his legs in the air. Finally, Pintel turned back to drag the body off of his skinny cohort before poor man could be squashed entirely.

Ansill stood and walked towards her, grinning and wiping at his muddy clothes as he came. “Wouldn’t have thought ye capable of it, Miss ‘Lizabeth…”

Neither would she, truth be told. But while she was shocked at the detached way in which she’d ended half a dozen lives, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. What she was fighting for...it simply meant too much. She’d not waste such emotion on scum-for-hire.

Elizabeth yanked at the belt that held the Uzi on Jim’s shoulder and tugged the gun out of his grasp. He didn’t resist – in fact, he was staring at her with slack-jawed disbelief, as though he’d never seen her before and further more, didn’t know what to think of her actions. “The captain is in trouble!” she shouted, making sure all of the Blackhearts heard. “They’re under siege back at the shack and you’ve all the weaponry here. Take everything you can carry and get back to them now! MOVE!”

All vestiges of humour faded from the faces of the Blackheart crew and they ran for the boats, yanking the tarps open and retrieving whatever they could hold from the cache – guns, clips, grenades and steel. In a matter of moments they’d fled wordlessly from the glade, leaving Elizabeth alone with her captive.

She slid one arm up through the Uzi’s strap until the gun rested heavily against her back. Stepping away from Jim, she pointed the knife straight at him as she made her way back to her boots. “If we are too late…if Hector dies…” she growled, her eyes hot and her chest heaving in anticipation of the battle ahead, “you shall suffer the same fate by my hand. There will be nowhere you can hide, James Norrington, that I won’t find you. If he dies…”

Her throat constricted in panic at the thought and she opted to stop talking altogether. Her point had been made – Jim’s devastated expression told her as much. Tying her boots while holding a knife in achy hands proved a challenge, but she couldn’t risk putting it down and being overpowered before she could get back to Hector and Jack. Jim walked away a few steps as she tugged at her laces, and she eyed him suspiciously as he sank to the ground, sitting with his arms on his knees and hanging his head. As she finished with her boots and turned to go, she heard him murmur rather incoherently.

“Did you say something?” Elizabeth said archly, throwing one last hateful look over her shoulder as she started back in the direction of the tunnel.

“I said,” Jim replied a bit louder, not daring to meet her eyes, “let me come with you.”

The ludicrous nature of the statement was enough to stop her in her tracks and she let out a single, bitter laugh. “What?! Are you insane? After what you’ve done to me, you believe that I would trust you now? If I had any sense at all, I’d slit your throat and leave you to bleed out into the dirt!”

She turned her back on him and started to run. Now wasn’t the time for games – she had to get back, had to do her part to thwart Beckett and save her love. The sound of branches snapping behind her told her that Norrington hadn’t paid her any heed and had chosen to follow regardless. When he caught up to her and reached out to grab her elbow, she whirled and slashed out with the blade, opening a nasty looking cut on his forearm.

Jim stumbled sideways, drawing his arm close to his abdomen and closing a hand over top of the deep, red wound to staunch the bleeding. Wincing and clenching his teeth against the pain, he fell to his knees and gave her a beseeching look. “Christ, Beth…is this what it’s come down to? I’ve known you all your life…loved you for most of that time. How the hell did this happen to us?”

“There never was an ‘us,’ she retorted. A drop of blood fell from the knife and splattered against the toe of her boot. “That’s always been our problem…it wasn’t meant to be, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit that. And you crossed the line, Jim, when you threw in your lot with Beckett, knowing full well that to do so would mean hurting me…hurting someone I love.”

He closed his eyes and sighed miserably. “You’re right. I can’t defend myself…there are no excuses. I can’t change the choices I made – but if you give me a chance, maybe I can redeem myself in some way.”

Elizabeth lifted her chin and sneered menacingly. “And why should I believe you? Why should I give you a chance when through your actions, you’ve almost certainly left us with none?” Here was a familiar situation – Norrington looking for a way back to the right side. Granted, he had more than fulfilled that pledge before…

“Because,” he said remorsefully, his blue eyes glistening. “I can’t go on living knowing that you despise me. Yes, I was blinded by my desire for something to which I had no claim. I understand – and if what you’ve found with this other man is what will make you happy, then I can accept that. Please…Beth, please, let me make it right.”

She looked back towards where she knew Hector and Jack were fighting for their lives, her jaw tensing in renewed fear and uncertainty dogging her thoughts. “You may not be able to…it may be too late.”

“At least let me try – I swear on your father’s grave, I won’t let you down again.” He staggered to his feet, leaning against the prickly casuarina beside where he’d fallen. Rivulets of red ran from between his fingers where he clenched his injured arm, but he stood up straight and steady.

“Fine,” she spat, turning to glare at him. “You walk ahead of me and I’ll tell you where to go. And you’d better pray that your treachery hasn’t already cost me the only one who has ever truly mattered to me.”

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Please take pity! If you read, please consider rating and/or reviewing! Much angst ahead, mateys! Stay tuned!