“To be processed and questioned.” The young cop dragged me forward. At some point in my beating, I’d lost a shoe, and I winced as pebbles bruised my sole.
The older cop placed a pair of aviator sunglasses on as he left the alley and entered the sunny street. Pedestrians changed their direction and speed as we disrupted foot traffic, cutting in front of nosy tourists all eyeing me and Harold in the grip of law enforcers.
A small sedan with the police logo sat skewed on the curb as if Simone’s friend had hailed them down as they were driving down the road.
The blonde had done me a favour and stopped the beating, but now she’d taken away the chance of possibly being loaned some money and being free to find my way home.
I looked over my shoulder at Simone who stood with her arms crossed and worry on her innocent face. She waved hesitantly as I was marched away.
Would she come see me in jail? Would her father let her? Or would she forget about the poor little prisoner who tried to rob her the moment I climbed into that squad car?
Either way, it didn’t matter as my head turned and my eyes kissed the beautiful ocean no longer hidden behind buildings.
The horizon glittered with sunshine glory, but I wasn’t interested in the prettiness of this place. I didn’t care about the schooners and spinnakers and sunbakers.
I cared about one thing.
One thing that I searched frantically for even as I tried to look away.
I shouldn’t look.
I should forget—
Too late.
I couldn’t stop my tattered moan as I found the spot where the Phantom had moored, floating just out of harbour congestion, a beacon for home.
Only, there was no yacht.
There was no home.
Only an empty turquoise spot like a lost tooth in a jaw of bejewelled vessels.
Elder had read my letter and agreed with me.
He’d boarded the Phantom, taken one last look at Monaco, and left.
Something fissured inside me.
Something akin to a blade filleting my heart from my ribcage. Short, intense, blistering in its viciousness.
I keeled over as the young cop stuffed me into the back of their vehicle.
I fought my tears, straining to keep my eyes on the horizon, begging for it to be a mistake. That I’d been looking in the wrong spot. That the Phantom was still there, and by some miracle, Elder had ignored my need to leave and was this very moment searching for me.
Please...
But as the door slammed shut and the sounds of city life and traffic were muted, I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.
This hurt more than any fist.
Worse than any kick.
This was the worst agony I’d ever endured.
The agony of a broken heart.
The pain of a sailed away lover.
Chapter Five
Elder
TWO OF THE worst fucking days I’d ever had.
Instead of my heart pain fading, it only grew worse.
Hour by hour, missing Pim tightened like a garrotte around my chest, just waiting for that perfect pressure to slice me clean through.
It took everything inside to stay the course and not turn around. To stop myself from wrenching the controls from Jolfer and reversing the moment Monaco vanished in our wake.
I gave up hoping for any resemblance of relief. If anything, this time sailing from society filled me with nausea at the thought of Pim out there...alone—surrounded by strangers and doing who knew what to survive.
What the fuck was I thinking leaving her?
I couldn’t sleep.
I could barely eat.
I rarely left my position on deck—staring at the horizon, desperate to find something to heal the parts of me that Pimlico had broken.
But nothing could stop the jangling discord in my brain. The unfathomable knowledge that I’d left something priceless behind. The awful swelling in my heart that I’d done something un-fucking-forgivable.
I hated myself.
And her.
I despised both of us for letting emotions ruin a perfectly acceptable arrangement.
She should be here with me instead of by herself where I couldn’t touch, talk, or guard.
Needing to keep myself focused on why she’d left and why I’d sailed away, I spent most of my time on the phone with the leader of the mercenaries who stood guard, unwanted by my family.
He gave me hourly reports and increased his team’s size to spread out and protect even the furthest blood relatives. People I’d never even heard about, let alone owed any kind of allegiance to.
I knew that, once again, my addiction had taken something pure and sullied it.
My duty was to my mother, uncles, and aunties and approximately six to seven cousins.
That was all.
In reality, the Chinmoku probably didn’t even care about the third cousins and in-laws who’d become one of us over the years.
But I did.
Not because I had a sudden craving to keep strangers alive but because of the goddamn obsession in my head.
They were mine—regardless if we had anything in common or a connection. They were linked to the web of my kin, and my brain switched from protection into something bordering old-world possession over tribe and pedigree.
I tried to stop it.
I did my best to order the leader to pull back from scouting outside homes of people who didn’t even know my name.
But I couldn’t.
If I wasn’t allowed Pimlico, then I would do whatever was in my power to watch over everyone—regardless if it was an addiction, obligation, or appropriate.
I stood on the deck staring at the pink horizon and rubbed at the spot where my heart used to be. No seagull squawk or midnight swim could fix what I feared would forever be broken.
I should be sick with worry at the thought of my mother in danger and riddled with nerves at the impending family reunion where no one wanted me.
But all I could think about was Pim.
Pim.
Pim.
I clutched the phone, willing it to ring, so I had a distraction from the way my heart thumped lifeless and accusing, hanging itself on a gristly rib.
Every beat made me growl with guilt. Every palpitation a reminder of no more dinners or pickpocketing lessons. No more falling in love.
Where was she now?
Had she found someone to help?
Was she on her way to England?
Was she already there?
I liked that most of me hoped she’d already found her way home and was back where she belonged. However, I hated myself because another part of me—a dark, disturbed jealous part—hoped she hadn’t.
That she needed me even after walking away.
That she hurt just as much because we were apart with no way of contact. No cell phone. No email. No physical way of tracking the other down.
You sailed away.
You chose blood over heart.
And for what?
To be cursed all over again and ordered to leave? To be kicked out and called No One? To remain lonely for the rest of my days?
Shit!
My free hand curled around the banister, wanting to wring the wood and brass for its hypocrisy. For my hypocrisy. The awful conclusion that I’d sailed away under the guise of doing the right thing...when really, I’d done the fucking opposite.