The last time Hook lay in theKraken’s cell, he’d vowed revenge. Over and over, he’d visualized the day he’d repay that bloody crocodile Blackbeard for taking his hand and delaying his journey home. He’d fought the duel a hundred times in his mind, seen himself stab Blackbeard through the chest with his blade, toss him from a cliff, drown him in the sea. For a few weeks, his fantasies of revenge had involved the creative use of a cannon.
For years he’d worked to build his crew, hone his skills, grow his reputation. Anything to dethrone Captain Blackbeard as the most notorious pirate on the seas. He’d take his title, beat him at his own game. And then, only then, would he challenge him to that fateful duel.
But now…
Now…
What did revenge matter when he’d lost everyone he ever loved?
Emptiness consumed him. Tink’s final scream haunted him, echoing in his ears as if it would continue forever. Smee had looked to him before he was pushed off the plank, giving him one last wobbling smile.
One by one, over and over, he watched as those he loved were bound hand and foot and sent to the depths—laid to rest with theJolly Roger.
He stared at his hook, no longer bound behind him. Who needed bindings when locked behind iron bars? More than that, though, it was a mockery of the last time he was here. Personal. Intimate. Blackbeard gave him that hook to end himself. It was tempting. Perhaps that’s what he wanted—why he’d left him untied. Hook pressed the pad of his thumb against the point, watching blood well and drip down his hand. All those years, he worked toward his revenge, only to end up right back where he started.
Perhaps thiswasthe end.
Even if he got his revenge, what did it matter anymore?
A door slammed open.
Lantern light flooded the dim room, illuminating the soiled hay and refuse lingering in the other cells—and his.
“Capt’n wants to see you,” one of the men slurred through his missing teeth. “Yer ta come with us.”
He narrowed his eyes at the men. “Or what?” What more could they do to him?
The two men looked between one another. “Er…well...”
Idiots.Hook looked at the crimson painting the tip of his hook. He’d plunge it into Blackbeard’s neck before the night was done. Even if it cost his own life—and part of him prayed it did—that bastard would get what was coming to him.
He raised his brows and held his hands out in front of them. “Better be about then.”
They looked between one another again, as if having a silent argument about who would venture into the cell first. They were of similar height and coloring. Brothers? Cousins? Not that it mattered.
The loser of their silent challenge clasped iron shackles on Hook’s wrist and led him, smashed between himself and his likely relative, to Blackbeard’s cabin.
The room was a gaudy affair of crimson, black, and gold. Velvet, jewels, and carved mahogany adorned the space. It was all too like his own if he were telling the truth—not that he would admit it. Another reason the bastard deserved to die.
Blackbeard sat with his legs propped up on his desk while he toyed with a braided section of his beard. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed his men, leaving Hook shackled in the center of the room.
He slid his boots from the top of his desk and stood. The croc had a satchel clenched in his fist—Hook’s. They’d wasted no time going through his crew’s things, the ones they’d stripped off them when they’d been brought onboard, or the ones on theJolly Roger. Hook bit the inside of his mouth as he spied a stunningly crafted clock that used to reside in his cabin…right next to the bed he’d shared with Tink. The invisible knife lodged in his chest twisted.
Blackbeard upended the satchel and spilled its contents across his desk. Small, smooth rocks tumbled out in a heap.
“Which one’s tha scale?”
He nearly laughed. He’d fallen for his ruse, assuming one of the other clever rocks to be the scale, not that it mattered now. “None of them.”
The other captain crooked one bushy, dark brow. “Tha pixie lied?”
“No.” He swallowed the tightness in his throat. “You sent it to the depths with her,” he grated, barely getting the words out.
“Ah.” Blackbeard rounded his desk. “Ya did love her.”
Hook snarled.
“Or ya lie?” He drummed on the hilt of his sword.
