Try, Bennett. You can do it.

I rolled to my chest, swallowed my cries, and pushed the blood-soaked curls out of my face. Bearing down against the dizzying agony, I dragged myself forward on my elbow. Shoved another inch with the toes on my working leg. Scraped the raw bone of my arm across the deck. Hacked up blood. Bit down. Pushed again.

Oh God, give me the strength.

I just needed to reach the paper before it blew.

Just help me reach it. Dear God, it’s all I’ll ever ask.

I heaved my broken arm forward, followed it, lugged it again, catching the exposed bone on the seams in the deck. I cried out. Kept moving. So close.

The toe of a boot pressed down on the rolled letter. My insides shriveled.

A hand grabbed the tiny scroll away.

Madwulf bent down and met my eyes. Whatever horrible thing he uttered stopped at my ears. Holding my gaze, he slowly, deliberately ripped the letter into tiny pieces, walked it to the bow, and flicked the remnants over the side.

Gone.

Destroyed.

It would never come back. I would never know the words, never read them, or hear them.

The pain was so powerful, so monstrous, I collapsed beneath the gravity of it. All I had left was the grief burning inside me, my twisted little friend with arms that embraced me in fire and teeth that sloughed the meat from my bones. I sank into its constricting grip and begged it to end me.

Still, my body refused to die.

Madwulf’s men hauled me up and strung me to the foremast. Without the strength to stand, I buckled against the rope that caught me around the thighs, hips, and ribs. My arms were forced at my sides, punishing me with another layer of agony as every broken bone and shredded tendon rubbed and pushed against the squeeze of the restraints.

Then they walked away.

I didn’t need my hearing to know their intent. They’d left me here to die.

Meanwhile, they slaughtered the last goat and passed around the dregs of the wine casks. Ashley’s men had deserted the Royal Navy in hopes of living merry and acquiring riches. Now they would.

They had my father’s map.

As the crew’s morale took flight with smiles and dancing, mine plummeted.

Swelling had set in on the side of my face, pinching my eye shut. My jaw, cheek, and ear felt like a massive knot of fire, pulsing and stretching. My broken ribs turned every breath into a battering strike, and I refused to look at my arm. I couldn’t without passing out.

I went mad with the urge to claw my way out of these ropes and throw myself overboard. I wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t here, hanging from a mast and awaiting my death.