Jug's voice crackled through the comms: "Rest of the boat has been cleared. We’re circling back to do ID kits on the tangos in the hallway.”
Talon asked, “How many pirates in total?"
He was speaking to Jug, but the woman obviously thought he was talking to her.
"I don't know," she croaked, her voice like sandpaper on stone. She coughed and struggled to speak, and when she did, it sent chills down Talon's spine. "The one who gave the orders … the woman. Three others that I saw."
Talon's blood turned to ice. "Wolf?"
"She isn't going anywhere, Skipper.” Wolf chuckled through the comms, and Talon heard the distinct click of the rifle being thumbed off safety. The implication was clear—the cook wasn't just a cook.
"Do you need help with the hostage, Skipper?" Stryker’s voice came through the comms, professional and ready.
Talon scanned Riley quickly, doing a tactical triage assessment that made his jaw clench tighter with each injury he catalogued. She’d closed her eyes, and he didn’t know if she were conscious ornot. "She has facial swelling, possibly a fractured cheekbone, deep compression injuries around the neck, and possible nerve damage in her hands. She's dehydrated, sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, dry lips, sluggish responses." His voice was tight with controlled fury. "I'm going to bring her up."
“Roger, I’ll set up an IV.”
“Top deck,” Talon said. He needed to get her some fresh air. "Dude, check the manifest again. We have a civilian on board. Female. She's in and out of consciousness. Her name is Riley. Injuries have been sustained. No immediate threats in hold seven. I need a medevac protocol prepped, and a route cleared. We're not going to delay getting her off this boat. Jug, the containers we need?"
“Identified and intact,” Jug said clearly. “I’ve attached transmitters to them.”
“I have good pings,” Dude said. “I’m working on getting the crew and the new security team to the ship ASAP.”
“Maintenance will be required. It could take weeks to fix those systems,” Talon said as he walked.
“Then we’ll get another ship there and transfer the cargo in question and get it out of there.” Talon could hear Dude typing rapidly as he spoke.
He turned back to Riley. Her head had started tololl sideways, consciousness slipping like sand through fingers. "Hey, Riley? Let's stay awake, sweetheart." He gently touched her chin, his calloused fingers careful against her damaged skin. "Hey, Riley? Look at me, honey."
Her eyes rolled a bit, but she found his. Her gaze was unfocused but seemed to be aware, fighting to stay present. "You're real," she whispered, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of desperate hope.
"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion he couldn't quite suppress. "I'm real. And you're not alone anymore."
She tried to lift her arm but failed miserably; the limb fell back to her side like a dead weight. He caught it mid-fall, wrapping his hand around her fingers. Her skin was cold and clammy, and her pulse was weak beneath the grime and dried blood. Circulation issues from the restraints, dehydration, and possible shock. The list of medical concerns continued to grow.
Screw asking if she could walk. "I'm going to carry you, okay?"
She blinked and looked at him as if there were four of him, her vision clearly compromised. Shehesitated, then nodded ever so slightly—a gesture that took obvious effort.
After slinging his rifle over his back, Talon slid his arms beneath her legs and shoulders, lifting with all the gentleness that seemed foreign aboard this fucking vessel of horrors. She was light. He could feel every bone, every tremor running through her damaged body. Her head dropped against his shoulder, and her breath was hot against his collarbone. She didn't speak again, but he could feel the rapid flutter of her breath against his throat.
Talon's mind wasn't just on the extraction of this woman. It was already calculating vengeance. Vengeance in his mind for any woman treated like this was methodical and cold, and it would be absolute. The rage building in his chest wasn't the hot, impulsive kind. No, it was the deadly, patient kind that planned and waited, striking without mercy.
Whoever had done this, whoever had been in charge of this brutality, either on or off this ship, would pay. And when Talon got to that woman he’d had detained below deck, the one giving orders, she would regret every moment she’d drawn breath.
"I have her, and I'm moving topside."
"Skipper?" Dude’s voice came through as he waswalking up the stairwell, each step measured and careful to avoid jarring his precious cargo.
"Go," he said.
"There's no female on the passenger manifest. Ask her what her last name is, see if you can find out what she was doing on the ship."
Talon stopped at a landing, the emergency lighting casting everything in hellish red. He looked down at Riley, her face pale and drawn in the harsh light. "Hey, Riley, are you still with me?"
She tipped her head back and looked up at him with eyes that struggled to focus. The trust in that gaze, trust given despite everything she'd endured, hit him harder than any physical blow ever could.
"What's your last name?" he asked, and started up the stairs again, his boots ringing on metal.
