My spine bowed as soundless howls spluttered past my lips. Numerous hands pinned me to a flat surface. I recognized the rafters overhead. The wall of windows. The Caribbee chart tapestry on the wall. I was in my private cabin, lying face-up on top of my desk.

Priest and Ashley stood on either side of me. Reynolds held my feet. Lieutenant Flemming was here, looking on as Ipswich tortured my arm. Something hard and metal scraped against the raw bone, sending me into another thrashing fit.

They were helping me. Knowing that, I tried so hard not to cry or move. But the pain… God’s blood, I couldn’t take much more. I trembled with it. Shook. I’d been shaking since Madwulf had taken me.

Huge blue eyes appeared above my face. Compelling eyes, chiseled jaw, muscular shoulders, and so many other gorgeous body parts that I hoped to admire again someday.

Ashley watched me as I watched him, unwavering, locked. In my periphery, Priest spoke to the doctors, his words heated and firing with threatening fury.

I focused on Ashley, on his carefully controlled reserve. It bothered me how close he was staring. Oh, how my appearance must sicken him.

“I look…” I pinned my lips and silently whimpered through a fresh twist of pain. “Dreadful.”

His gaze didn’t leave mine as he gave a hard swallow. A dip of his head. A slow blink. Then he mouthed, Strong. Fierce. His brow furrowed. Too beautiful, Goldilocks.

“Liar,” I said.

But his words reminded me to give myself some merit. I’d suffered an unimaginable amount of torture over the past few weeks. I was still alive. Still fighting. My father would’ve been proud of me.

“Madwulf?” I gulped through an insufferable sweep of spasms as something was tied around my arm.

Ashley’s mouth shaped the word, Contained.

His gaze flicked to Priest, who shifted out of my view and returned a second later, opening a leather pouch. From within, he removed my compass, the jade stone, and the tiny scroll that presumably held the location of my father’s treasure.

“Thank you.” I tried to make my lips smile, but I couldn’t breathe without crying.

His features turned stony as he pulled out a rag stained with blood. Unfolding the cloth, he tilted it downward so I could see what it held.

A severed hand.

Pale, freckled skin. Jagged fingernails.

Madwulf.

I closed my eyes and nodded, knowing that was the first of what would be many gifts. In my present condition, I couldn’t partake in Madwulf’s torture. But I could count on Priest to bring me all the bits and pieces.

Perhaps that made him an animal. I was accustomed to his feral behavior. In fact, it endeared me to him. Maybe that made me an animal, too.

Ashley showed no revulsion to it. Not that I was surprised after witnessing the brutality he’d inflicted on the admiral.