A Plan

“If my estimates are correct, we will soon be pulling into port at Rebel Bay,” Anna informs you, her voice steady but low, cautious of eavesdroppers. “Though it is not common knowledge, I have several associates in the city who could prove useful in aiding our escape.”

“How will we get a message to them?” you ask, leaning closer, your curiosity piqued despite the tension hanging in the air.

She pauses, her brow furrowing in thought. “That’s where you come into play,” she replies. “Over the next week, you must do everything in your power to gain Darkwater’s trust. I have reason to believe that if you can manage this, she will give you leave to explore the city with relative freedom.”

You shake your head, skeptical. “She doesn’t strike me as a woman who’s quick to trust.”

“In that, you are correct,” Anna concedes, her voice calm but resolute. “However, I believe that if we put on a convincing enough show, we might achieve just that.”

“A convincing show?” you ask, frowning. “What are you suggesting?”

Her expression hardens, and her tone becomes sharp with purpose. “You must be brutal with me,” she says, the words cutting through the still air like a blade. “When we are together, you must treat me as you never have before. You must not be gentle. I need you to take me as though I were nothing more than an object—a vessel for your desires, to be used and discarded.”

Your stomach churns at her suggestion, and you begin to protest, but she holds up a hand to silence you.

“Bradley, it is the only way,” she says softly, her eyes locking onto yours with unwavering determination.

“And you think that will be enough?” you ask, your voice thick with doubt.

“I don’t know,” she admits, her gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “It will help. But it won’t be enough on its own. You’ll need to continue your… efforts with Darkwater. Keep her satisfied, make her believe she is the only woman you care for. If you succeed, I believe she will grant you the freedom to disembark at Rebel Bay.”

She reaches through the narrow gap in her cell bars, her fingers brushing against yours. You take her hand instinctively, the warmth of her touch grounding you in the midst of her unorthodox plan.

“The things you do to me… the things you will do…” she murmurs, her voice trembling, but not with fear. “Just remember, when I cry and scream and beg for you to stop, it will not be in earnest.”

You swallow hard, the weight of her words sinking into your chest like a stone.

“Truth be told,” she continues, her voice dipping to a whisper, “I long to feel you inside me even now.”