Chains of Deceit

He slowly released his grip.

“You must be famished after a hard day’s work.”

“Yes, master.”

The words tasted bitter on my tongue, each syllable heavy with resentment. I followed Captain Blackthorn to the small table in the corner of the dimly lit room, my arms wrapped tightly across my chest as if I could shield myself from his gaze. The ship’s chef entered, setting down plates of food. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the cabin, though my stomach twisted at the thought of swallowing a single bite. Blackthorn lowered himself into the chair with casual authority, gesturing for me to sit opposite him.

“Sit,” he ordered.

I hesitated, but the command in his tone left no room for refusal. Slowly, I obeyed, lowering myself onto the hard wooden seat. His stare never wavered, pinning me in place.

“Eat.”

The fork trembled in my hands as I forced myself to taste the meat. It should have been delicious, rich and savory, but it turned to ash on my tongue. I chewed slowly, my throat tight, nausea threatening to rise.

“You did well today,” he said at last, his voice deceptively smooth. “Your work will not go unrewarded.”

I nodded stiffly, not trusting my voice. Our eyes met for a fleeting instant. His gaze was sharp, cold, and calculating, like a predator deciding how best to toy with its prey.

“You have potential,” he mused, leaning back in his chair. “A fire. Harnessed properly, it could serve me well.”

“Thank you, master,” I said, though the words burned like poison.

He smiled, satisfied, and his next words were like the snap of a trap springing shut.

“Finish your meal. You’ve earned it.”

The silence between us thickened, suffocating. His eyes lingered, roaming with a twisted satisfaction that made my skin crawl. Then, without warning, he rose, his chair scraping back across the floorboards. In a blink he was on me, the wall at my back, his hand cruel in my hair. His mouth crushed against mine with a force that stole my breath. The shock froze me, my body rigid. His presence filled every corner of the cabin, overwhelming and merciless. I tried to turn away, but his grip tightened, silencing me with rough insistence. The world narrowed to pain, to the sound of his laughter, to the cold certainty that no plea would change what he had already decided.

The rest blurred. The belt, the cold sheets, the struggle. My own cries muffled, my wrists raw against the bonds. Shame and fury tangled in my chest, but my strength was no match for his. Every violation carved itself into memory, and when at last he stilled, his breath heavy against my ear, the threat came like a blade pressed to my throat.

“You’re mine. Property. Do as I say, or regret it.”

Darkness pulled at me then, and I surrendered to it, because there was nowhere left to run. When I woke, I was in the cage. The metal bars pressed into my skin, cold and unyielding. Every inch of me ached, as though I had been broken into pieces and shoved back together again. I tried to sit up, only to gasp as pain flared sharp and merciless through my body. The air smelled of salt and rust. A rough blanket lay at my feet. I wrapped it around myself, trembling.

Then came the sound of keys rattling in the lock. Panic surged. I curled tighter into the blanket, expecting Blackthorn’s return. When the door opened, it was not him.

It was James. He stepped inside cautiously, moving like someone who didn’t want to startle a wounded animal. His face was grave, his eyes softer than I had ever seen them. He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the small cot bolted inside the bars. The mattress dipped under his weight. I recoiled instinctively, pressing myself back against the iron.

“I know you’re scared,” he said quietly. “I’m here to help you. I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

I searched his face, desperate for any crack in the mask. His gaze, steady and unflinching, held only sincerity.

“My brother’s gone,” he continued. “He’s at the tavern. We’ve docked. For now, it’s just us. You’re safe.”

The words didn’t erase the fear. Something in his tone loosened the knot in my chest, if only a little.

James extended a hand halfway, not touching, only holding it there as if to prove he wouldn’t force me.

“Why?” I rasped, my throat raw. “Why help me?”

“You don’t deserve this.” His voice hardened, a flash of anger cutting through his calm. “No one does. I can’t stand by and watch him sink this far.”

His eyes flicked to my wrists. Gently, carefully, he reached for them. I flinched, but his touch was not like his brother’s. He dabbed at the raw skin with a damp cloth, apologizing when I winced.

“I’ll be careful,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you.”

He worked with surprising skill, binding the wounds with steady hands. There was a tenderness to his movements, a patience that contrasted sharply with the cruelty I had endured.

“Where did you learn this?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

“My father was a doctor,” James said after a pause. “Before pirates took our ship. Before Blackthorn.”

He stilled, his gaze drifting as if replaying an old nightmare.

“He killed my father. Right in front of me. Said it was mercy to keep my brother and me alive. I never wanted this life.”

Silence stretched between us, broken only by the rustle of cloth and the distant groan of the ship’s timbers. He moved to tend the cuts on my cheek, his face close now, lined with wear I hadn’t noticed before.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For helping me.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he replied, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “It’s just the right thing.”

When he finished, he stood. “I’ll fetch you some water.”

True to his word, he returned moments later with a wooden cup. I drank greedily, the cool liquid reviving me. For the first time since the nightmare began, I felt the faint stirrings of strength. The peace didn’t last. The door burst open, banging against the wall. The stench of rum filled the room before Blackthorn even stumbled across the threshold. His eyes, bloodshot and sharp with suspicion, locked on his brother.

“What the hell is going on here?” he slurred.