Ch 47: Exploit the Weakness
The corridor beyond was narrow, lit by a single bare bulb that swung with the ship's motion. Elena stepped out, her bare feet silent on the metal grating. She remembered that when Valli had opened the door, a fresh, salty gust came from the left. So she turned left.
The corridor stretched twenty feet to a T-junction. Elena pressed herself against the wall and listened. To the left, voices and the clink of metal. To the right, darkness and a current of cold, salt-tinged air.
She went right.
The ship was a maze of passages and unexpected turns. She passed some portholes and closed doors before arriving beneath a flight of metal stairs. She climbed. The air grew colder, fresher. She could smell the fishy musk of the sea.
Another ladder appeared, leading up to a closed hatch. The salt smell was strongest here. This was the way to the deck.
She reached for the rung—
"Hey! Stop right there!"
The shout came from behind her—close, too close.
Elena didn’t stop. She climbed the cold ladder and pushed the hatch.
A crewman below grabbed her ankle.
She didn't panic or yank her leg back. Instead, she twisted toward the weakest part of his grip—between thumb and fingers. As her ankle slipped free, she pivoted and kicked the man in the chest, sending him off the ladder.
But the commotion drew others. Heavy footsteps pounded down the corridor.
Elena shoved the hatch again. It wouldn't open. She tried it with the latch. Cold air rushed in—
A hand closed around her ankle and yanked.
She slid down several feet before catching herself, her knuckles scraping against the metal rungs. Pain flared, causing her to wince slightly.
At the base of the ladder, a man grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.
“Throat, solar plexus, groin, eyes,” Kazimir's voice echoed in her mind.
Elena drove the heel of her palm upward under the crewman’s chin. He gagged, grip loosening. Taking advantage of this opening, she twisted free her shoulder free and kneed him in the groin. He folded with a strangled sound, crashing into the second man behind him.
She turned to run, but the second man recovered fast. His hand closed around her wrist, yanking her backward. She went with the momentum and drove her other elbow into his solar plexus. He grunted, but didn't let go.
Elena didn't hesitate. She jabbed at his eyes with her knuckles, causing the man let out a wail and fold to the floor.
But the tussle took too long: The first crewman was already rising beside the ladder. Two more stood at the end of the corridor. She was surrounded; both of her retreats were blocked.
Hands grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms. Elena twisted and broke one grip, but the man behind her was smarter this time, locking her arms against her ribs.
"I've got her! Someone get Valli!"
"Valli's asleep. Ordered not to disturb him until we dock."
"Then what do we do with her?" The man holding her sounded uncertain. "Nobody say anything about her fighting back."
"Valli didn't say much," another replied, rubbing his chest where she'd kicked him. "Just 'keep her in the cabin and don't let her escape.' Nothing about hurting her."
"So we just let her run around the ship?"
"I mean, she's already loose. Valli didn't say we couldn't rough her up a little." The man with the scratched eye glared at Elena.
"He didn't say we could, either," one man reasoned. "She's that young Volkov's wife. You want to explain to Valli why we handed her over with broken bones?"
They exchanged looks over her head, uncertain.
"Storage locker, then. Let her cool off until morning," one suggested.
"No." The voice came from behind them, quiet and cold.
The men turned. Elena turned with them, as much as the grip on her would allow. And she froze.
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Arlo.
He stood at the end of the corridor, his face expressionless. The same pleasant neutrality she had seen a hundred times in the mansion. The man who had delivered her to this ship like cargo.
Of course he was here. He was part of this all along, Elena thought, her initial shock now curdled into the fury of betrayal. Her hands curled into fists.
The crewmen holding her felt the shift in her and tightened his grips. "Hey, behave!"
"Sir." The one with the swollen eye spoke carefully. "The prisoner tried to escape. She assaulted three crewmen. We were securing her—"
"I can see what happened." Arlo walked toward them slowly. "Release her."
"She's faster than she looks, sir."
"Clearly." Arlo said flatly, stopping a few feet away. "Release her."
"Sir?"
"Did I stutter?"
The men hesitated. Elena felt the grip on her arms loosen slightly, but not enough to free her.
"Signor Valli's orders were clear. The prisoner has to be contained.”
Arlo's voice dropped. "A bound, unarmed woman—a woman half your size—escaped her cabin, nearly reached the deck, and left three grown men limping. And your solution is a storage locker?"
Silence. The men couldn't meet his eyes.
"Signor Valli will hear about this failure. Unless I decide he doesn't need to." He let the implication hang. "I'm Don Emilio's son. The hostage is my responsibility now. I will deal with her."
The man with the injured throat rasped, "With respect, sir, your father put Valli in charge of this operation. Not you."
Arlo's icy gaze settled on him. "Release her."
The hands fell away. Elena stumbled forward.
Then Arlo moved. His arm slid around her waist—firm, unyielding. His free hand cupped the back of her head.
Elena reacted on instinct. She shoved against his chest, twisting in his grip, trying to break free. 'Don't touch me,' she mouthed angrily, beating her fists against his shoulders.
Arlo absorbed her blows without flinching. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His hand pressed her head down against his collar, forcing her still.
"Stop," he murmured against her ear, low enough that only she could hear. "They're watching. Play along, or they'll lock you in a storage locker and throw away the key."
Elena's struggles faltered. The words cut through her rage. She looked past his shoulder and saw the crewmen—watching with smirks, with leering interest. They weren't going to help her. They saw what they wanted to see: the Conti heir putting a troublesome woman in her place. After a quick calculation, she let her body go slack, her head resting against Arlo's collar, her hands falling to her sides. Inside, her blood still burned.
Arlo's thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle on her waist. His other hand tightened in her hair, tilting her head at an angle that made her look subdued.
"That's better," he said, loud enough for the crewmen to hear.
Elena forced herself not to scowl.
The crewmen exchanged glances.
The limping one let out a low whistle. "Ah. Now I understand. Our Conti heir has a taste for the pretty captive."
Arlo didn't turn. "Is there a problem?"
"No problem, sir." Another voice, chuckling. "Just didn't think you were the type, is all. Especially after she just tried to kill us."
"I prefer them spirited. They’re more satisfying to tame." Arlo shifted his grip, one hand sliding down to the curve of her hip, pulling her even closer. "I like this one."
The crewman with the scratched eye laughed. "We'll leave you to it, then. Though maybe tie her up first. She's got a hell of a right hook."
Arlo didn't move. His arm stayed around her waist, his hand still pressed to the back of her head. She could feel his heartbeat—faster than his calm facade suggested. Then, slowly, he loosened his grip. He stepped back, giving her space, his hands raised slightly in a gesture of truce.
Now alone, Elena's anger flared. Her hand moved. The red dagger was in her grip—drawn from the sheath on her thigh in one fluid motion. She lunged, driving the blade toward his chest.
Arlo caught her wrist, just hard enough to restrain. He didn't twist or strike back. He simply held her arm in place, the dagger's tip an inch from his shirt.
"You don't want to do this," he said quietly.
She tried to pull free. 'Let me go!'
His grip held. "If I let you go, you'll run. But you won't make it to the deck. They already locked the hatch from above." He paused and added, "And even if you got out, we're still a hundred meters from shore. Can you swim?"
She didn't answer.
"That's what I thought," he murmured.
Elena twisted her wrist, trying to break his hold. He redirected her movements but didn't fight back.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, approaching.
Arlo moved. He stepped into her, crowding her against the wall. One hand pinned her dagger hand to her side. The other pressed flat against the metal beside her head. His body blocked her from view.
"Trust me," he breathed.
The limping crewman rounded the corner—returning for something. He stopped when he saw them.
Arlo's head was bent close to Elena's, his face hidden in her hair. His free hand slid to her waist, pulling her tighter against him. To anyone watching, he looked like a man claiming his prize.
The crewman coughed when he met Arlo's glare. He turned quickly and disappeared back the way he came. The footsteps faded.
Arlo didn't move for a long moment. His breath was warm against her temple. She could feel his heartbeat—faster now. Only when he was sure no one else was coming did he stepped back. His hand released her wrist.
"You should come with me," he said, voice tired. "My cabin. This isn't the place to talk."
Elena didn't raise the dagger again. She could have—he'd let his guard down. But what would that accomplish? Stabbing him wouldn't unlock the hatch. It wouldn't get her off the ship. It would only bring the crewmen running, and next time they wouldn't hesitate to hurt her.
‘You should just let me leave,’ she mouthed.
"You know I can't do that," he answered calmly.
She held his gaze. He didn't look away. The silence stretched.
Then his gaze dropped to her feet—bare, bleeding, the torn stockings hanging in shreds. "You're bleeding. There's a first aid kit in my cabin."
Elena gave him a complicated look. He had drugged her and delivered her to her husband's enemies. A moment of protection didn't erase any of that. She didn't trust him. But she understood was clear about one thing: Right now, he was the only person on this ship who didn't want her dead or beaten.
My only chance is to ran after we dock. Until then, I need to stay alive and free. Staying with Arlo is safer the others.
She slid the dagger back into its sheath. 'Fine. Lead the way.'
He nodded once, then turned and walked down the corridor. Elena took one last at the closed hatch before she followed.
Last edited by Feiya Phia 5/19/26