I entered the captain's cabin again.
The stink hit me first—rot, sweat, and spilled liquor. Bottles littered the floor like shattered bones. Broken glasses, overturned furniture, stains too old to name. A pigsty, if pigs could rape and command ships.
And there he was.
Still breathing.
Still snoring.
The demon himself. Lying there like a man who'd earned rest.
I stood at the doorway, fists clenched. I wanted to end him right then and there. Split his skull open, paint these cursed walls with whatever black bile passed for blood inside him. But not yet.
The girls came first.
Their rest.
Their dignity.
They deserved peace—away from him. Even in death, they shouldn't have to share a room with this fucking monster.
I took a breath. The rage stayed—but I buried it deep, for now. I moved past him, careful not to look too long. My hands twitched. My teeth clenched so hard it hurt.
You'll die.
You'll beg for death.
But right now, you're not worth the blood you'd spill.
I searched the room for anything resembling clothing. Some scrap of decency. Something that might restore a sliver of what he'd taken.
All I found were tatters. Strings. Shreds of fabric torn beyond recognition—ribbons from what had once been clothes. What he'd ripped off in his violence. He hadn't even left _that_ behind. Not a single thread untouched.
My knuckles went white.
You didn't just take their lives.
You took their names, their bodies, their final moments.
And when I kill you—and I will—it won't be fast.
I stepped toward the second girl. She lay near the corner, bones showing through her skin, thin like she hadn't eaten in weeks. Another one he broke. Another one no one saved in time.
I bent down, gentle, like any sudden movement might shatter what was left.
I cradled her in my arms. She weighed nothing. Just fragile limbs and cold skin.
The demon snored louder behind me.
I didn't look back. Didn't need to.
He would die soon.
But she?
She would rest first.
I laid her beside the first girl. Clothed her with clothes I got from the other scums. And I made a silent promise to her.
He would not leave this ship alive.
And she would not be forgotten.
I gazed at the crew again.
No one moved.
No one dared.
Their eyes flicked to the body I'd left behind—the mangled thing that used to be their friend. His arms outstretched in a mockery of prayer, back split wide open like a cursed altar. And opposite to him, the heart. Still. Beating. Inside the skull.
That was enough.
For now.
They wouldn't move. Not with that horror staring them in the face. Not with the fresh memory of screams still hanging in the air like smoke after cannon fire. They knew fear. I'd used it before. But this was different.
This wasn't a warning. This wasn't a game I was playing not anymore.
This was a promise.
Step out of line—and I'll peel the sin out of your spine.
But I didn't wait for them. Didn't speak. I had more important things to do. More sacred things.
Five more girls. Five more shattered souls. Five more reasons to never forgive.
I stepped back into the captain's cabin—this pit of filth and nightmares. The air choked of alcohol and sweat. Broken glass glinted under my feet. Torn garments, bloodstains, claw marks gouged into the walls. Every inch of it screamed of what had happened here. I could feel the memories in the walls—violent, loud, and cruel. I hated this place. Hated it with a clarity so sharp it almost felt holy.
And then I saw her.
She lay crumpled near the corner, almost as if someone had tossed her aside. Her limbs twisted unnaturally. A jagged piece of glass protruded from her eye socket like a spear. Her skin—so thin, so pale—looked drained of everything but sorrow. And her face…
Her face said everything and nothing.
It was frozen, slack, but not peaceful. Her mouth was slightly open, like she had tried to scream one last time and the sound had failed her. Her brow was furrowed just faintly, not in fear, but in something deeper—something like confusion. Like she couldn't understand why. Why this had happened. Why no one stopped it. Why no one came.
Her expression wasn't just pain. It wasn't just terror.
It was betrayal.
The kind of look you give the world when you finally realize it never cared. That it let this happen. That you were discarded like trash, even before you were dead.
It shattered something in me.
She didn't die screaming. She died silently. Broken. Alone. Wondering why she had to go like this.
And that's not how it ends for her.
No fucking way.
She will rest. Not in this pigsty. Not next to that sleeping demon who will get the death he's earned—when I decide he's earned it. Not a second before. But for now, she comes with me.
I knelt beside her. Carefully. Gently. My fingers brushed the shards away from her ruined eye. I cradled her like something sacred—because she was. Even in death, she deserved care. She deserved reverence. Every movement I made was slow, deliberate. I didn't rush.
She'd been brutalized enough. What I gave her now was the one thing none of them had given her.
Respect.
And she would have it.
Even if I had to rip it out of this hellhole with my own hands.