Work Text:
Not for the first time, Abshir was very grateful how well and quickly his people could work. His cabin could be turned from a working centre of operations to a luxurious stateroom fit for a prince in a matter of minutes.
As soon as the word was given, they ran to conceal all plans and papers, sweeping clear his broad table and topping it instead with the finest tea service in his collection, while he accompanied the Widow Bonnet to the side of the ship and give their guest the glad news.
It did seem very suspicious for the man to be so excitable and Jim, despite the risk of recognition, insisted on sitting in the cabin as well, in case anything happened. They and Jackie had accompanied his people to guarantee they could have the best defensive positions.
This Captain Hornberry eagerly accepted the conditions of his visit, assuring them his men would stay in the boat, and scrambled up the ladder, all gangly arms and legs.
“Sir!” he said eagerly, offering Abshir a hand. That in itself was... unusual for a man of his rank. Abshir shook it at once. “Forgive me, we weren’t introduced.”
“Of course.” Abshir inclined his head as deeply as he could without risking his wig. “I am Abdul Waleed Ben Ismir, consul of the court of Morocco.” He gestured politely to the woman on his arm. “And it seems you know of my passenger, the Widow Bonnet.”
“Oh yes! Of course!” He beamed at her and held out a hand to her too, which the poor woman shook like a limp fish. “When I heard your name mentioned on the island – and the dire circumstances that brought you there – I simply had to come and find you.”
“How... kind,” she said, her smile a painful forced thing. “Your... consulship, maybe we can talk somewhere a bit more private.”
“Of course.” He bowed again, unnecessarily, but sometimes obsequiousness was appreciated. “If you will come with me, madame. Captain.”
He heard Mary’s small gasp of surprise when they entered the cabin and instead of plain wood and practical dressing, velvet drapes hung down from the walls, giving it an air of wealth and opulence, a tea service laid out on the table. Jackie had taken the position beside the door, head bowed, but eyes watchful, while Jim sat on a cushioned stool beside the window, bowed over a Bible.
It was all spectacularly civilised.
“What charming quarters,” Hornberry said, clearly impressed. “You do your court credit, my... lordship?”
Pressing his hand to his breast, Abshir smiled graciously. “Padishah, if it so please you.”
“Of course!” He even went so far as to wait for Abshir to sit, then settled down in the chair and smiled from him to Mary. “I hope I didn’t alarm you, coming up on your tail so briskly.”
With a flick of his finger, Abshir had one of the attendants hurry in to serve the tea and arrange sweet cakes on each of their plates for them. He waited until each of them had tea in their cup then made an extra pantomime of raising his cup to both of them. The English always did seem to enjoy it when they were shown something they assumed to be ‘cultural’.
“I cannot deny we were concerned,” Abshir said solemnly. “But we hoped that you were only coming to warn us. I do not know if you know of my Lady’s tribulations. We feared there may be a risk of more privateers with a vendetta against her.”
Hornberry’s expression sobered. “Ah yes. I heard about your daughter, Mrs Bonnet.”
Mary, thank God, managed a frail smile. “We’re trying to find out where she’s been taken,” she said. “Ab- our host was kind enough to offer me transport when no one in Barbados was willing or able to help.”
“They weren’t?” Hornberry’s eyes widened comically. “Why on earth not? Didn’t they have a record of the people responsible? Or the name of their ship? Surely there should have been a log of any vessel coming in or out of the island?”
Abshir glanced at Mary who seemed to have frozen in place. Hastily, he whipped out his kerchief with a flourish, offering it to her, and she grabbed it gratefully, rising and hurrying away from the table with it pressed to her face and a soft sob of ‘Sister!’. Jim rose from the window, striding to her side.
“It has been a very trying time for her,” Abshir said loudly to keep Hornberry’s attention away from Jim’s un-nun-like grace. And also from the hushed whispers from the pair. “Sister Martha has been a bosom companion for her through these difficult times.” When the two seemed to be too caught up in whispers, Jim’s arm companionably around Mary’s shoulder, Abshir smiled at Hornberry. “You said you knew her husband? You were friends?”
“Gosh, no!” Hornberry said, picking up one of the biscuits from his plate. “Would you believe he took me prisoner?” He shook his head with a chuckle. “A dreadful time, I must admit, but he did have a certain peculiar charm about him. I wanted to see if there was any help I could offer to his poor widow when I heard what had happened.” He munched on the biscuit then added, “Do you know I was the one responsible for bringing he and Blackbeard to heel?”
Despite trying to keeping his expression politely neutral, Abshir’s eyebrows leapt up. “No? You did?”
“Oh yes.” Hornberry slurped his tea. “We were part of the fleet that confronted them and I was the one who stopped the Admiral from finishing them off. We had them signing the Act of Grace within the hour.” His smile slipped a little. “Though unfortunately I heard that Blackbeard had returned to his murderous ways recently.”
“So it’s true?” Mary said suddenly, very clearly.
“Alas, yes,” Hornberry sighed. “It’s quite disappointing to have a feather in one’s cap, then see it snatched away again.”
“I imagine so,” Abshir murmured, keeping a careful eye on Mary who leaned in close to Jim, dabbing her face with her kerchief. Jim muttered quietly to them and the woman nodded.
In a rush of skirts, she returned to the table, sitting down. “I’ve heard rumours,” she said much to Abshir’s consternation, “that he’s been causing trouble for ships and settlements along the eastern edge of Jamaica.”
Hornberry raised his eyebrows. “Jamaica, you say?”
“I can’t believe he’s allowed to run around free!” She pressed the kerchief to her mouth with a noisy sob. While she was skilled in art, Abshir had to wince at her brave attempt at acting. “I was so worried already, chasing the man who took my daughter and now, we’re got to deal with another fu- damned pirate as well! What if he stops us? What if we can’t get to Alma?”
“I... hadn’t heard these reports,” Hornberry said, setting down his teacup and frowning thoughtfully. “My fleet are to rendezvous with one of our people near there for a prisoner exchange before continuing west. If Blackbeard really is thereabouts...” His focus shifted back to Mary and he smiled brightly. “Have no fear, dear lady. We can go ahead and clear the area. I’m a day or so ahead of the fleet, so best to make sure we’re not walking into an ambush.”
“Really?” Mary clutched the kerchief to her chest. “That would be great .”
Abshir kept his expression carefully placid, fighting down a smile. Oh, they were very deft. Whether Buttons’ bird message had reached the two captains, they could not be sure. The Naval fleet was coming, but redirecting this one? Making sure it didn’t get there early by sending it off on a wild-goose chase? Very clever.
“And perhaps,” Hornberry continued, “I might be able to assist you when I reach Port Royal.” He leaned attentively forward. “Tell me everything you know, Madame. If there is anything I can do to help you, it will be done. Do you know who was responsible?”
“Only bits and pieces, I’m afraid,” Mary said with convincing sorrow.
Hornberry nodded. “I understand. Tell me everything you can.”
____________________________________
Years ago, when he’d read about the Knights of Camelot and great heroes and tournaments, Stede had always wondered what it would have been like to be a knight, getting ready for a big battle, putting on his armour to face an enemy.
As he tied his cravat, his image blurred in the distorted glass, it felt exactly like that. Silly, really, since he was just getting dressed as he always did, but it felt more significant today.
A rap on the bathroom door made him glance over his shoulder. “Yes?”
Ed opened the door, leaning in. “You almost set?”
Stede glanced back at his reflection in the glass. He almost looked like his old self, which felt very odd. All the dashing about had worn some of him away, more muscle than softness in places. It had been a bit of a surprise to put on one of his old suits and find it loose around the middle. But with enough layers and a few extra pins and fastenings, it now fitted snugly.
“I’m feeling overdressed,” he admitted.
Ed slunk up behind him, all in black for the first time in weeks, and propped his chin on Stede’s shoulder. “Looks like the first time we met,” he murmured. It did, a little bit. “The Gentleman pirate, I presume.”
Stede leaned back into him, his eyes pricking. “If it goes wrong-”
A leather-gloved hand clamped over his mouth. “Fuck off,” Ed grumbled in his ear.
He reached up, pulling Ed’s hand down. “ If it goes wrong,” he repeated, “promise me you’ll get Alma to safety, no matter what.”
Ed met his eyes in the mirror. “It’s not going to go wrong,” he said petulantly. “Fucking won’t.”
“I know, but-”
“But,” Ed interrupted, “if it does – and it’s not fucking going to – I'll get the hatling home to mum.”
Stede’s shoulders sagged in relief and he turned and pressed a kiss to his husband’s cheek and then his lips. “She’s going to adore you,” he said.
Ed rolled his eyes dramatically and he ducked his head in that way that Stede had grown so used to, the way that said he didn’t quite believe it. Liked what he was hearing but was never quite convinced it was true. “Shut up.”
“Shan’t.” Stede kissed him again. “Now, shall we go and kick some arse?”
They emerged into the dazzling sunlight with what was left of their scattered crew. Olu and his little contingent were – hopefully – still on their way back. The Swede, Frenchie and Wee John had gone ahead with one dinghy to finish unloading at Whitesands, leaving Lucius, Pete, Fang and Roach on the deck.
"Gentlemen,” Stede tried to smile, but he was pretty sure it didn’t look very convincing.
“He’s about to say some bullshit about it being an honour being your captain,” Ed said. “Tell him to shove it up his arse.”
“Darling!” Stede protested with a laugh.
Ed rolled his head towards him, eyebrows arching. “Well, were you?”
“Okay, yes-”
“Ha!”
“But only because I want them to know!”
Ed’s expression softened. “They know,” he said, cuffing Stede gently on the shoulder.
“And it’s not like you’re getting rid of us,” Lucius said. “You’ll be back.” He nudged Pete sharply.
“Uh, yeah! It’s all gonna go great.”
Roach nodded emphatically. “You won’t need me at all today.” He paused then held up a finger. “Except to help you row the boat, but that does not count.”
Stede smiled in gratitude. They really were putting a lot of trust in the plan, even though every one of them probably thought he and Ed were mad as March hares. “Well.” He reached out to squeeze Ed’s arm, his heart in his throat. “I do want to tell you one thing before we set out.”
Ed looked at him expectantly. “Yeah?”
He never saw Fang move behind him, his expression only flickering as the blow landed on the back of his head. Stun move, Jim called it. He dropped like a rock, only Stede’s grip on one arm and Lucius grabbing the other to keep him from hitting the deck full force.
“Fuck me, he’s heavier than he looks!” Lucius yelped.
Fang stooped down to catch him under his arms, holding him steady. “You sure this is necessary, Captain?” he asked with a worried look at Stede.
Stede nodded unhappily, crouching down to cup Ed’s cheek. “Sorry, love,” he whispered. “This is for your own good.” His eyes pricked as he leaned in and kissed Ed’s slack lips once more. Hopefully not for the last time, but... but just in case. He straightened back up and looked at Fang. “Take care of him for me, all right?”
“Always.”
As if Ed weighed no more than a sack of potatoes, Fang hauled him off up the deck towards the cabin, his heels dragging behind him.
“He’s going to be pissed about that,” Lucius said with a reproachful look at Stede.
“At least it’ll keep him safer than he would be. He'll understand,” Stede retorted, adjusting his coat and carefully smoothing his waistcoat. “Now is everyone set?” They nodded and he took a deep breath, straightening his spine. “Very well. Roach, shall we get underway?”
They clambered down into the small dinghy, one he could have handled himself, but today it felt wiser to make a show of things. He was meant to be the Gentleman Pirate after all. Still, he looked back at the ship as Roach rowed them away, stomach all in knots.
“He will be all right, Captain,” Roach said reassuringly. “Fang strikes very neat blows. He will be awake in no time at all.”
“Yes.” Stede tugged at the lace of his cuff. “I hope so.” He forced himself to turn around and look ahead, beyond Roach’s shoulder. “Onward, then.”
_________________________________________
“What the fuck are they doing?”
Hornigold grinned as he looked through the telescope at the beach. As expected, Captain Thomas had sent a few of his people along to the meeting point early. They’d been hauling sacks and boxes up the beach from an overloaded dinghy and up the pale sand.
One of the boxes tipped over as they dragged it up to the high waterline spilling a cache of coins onto the sand.
“Unless I’m mistaken,” he said, lowering the scope, “Thomas is going to try and buy us out.”
Beside him, he heard Jo shift from one foot to the other. “He was a rich man, wasn’t he? That’s probably how he used to solve his problems.”
Hornigold gazed down at the beach. They were hidden in the treeline on a rocky promontory that jutted out into the sea. The Providence was safely tucked out of sight beyond it and so far, none of Thomas’s useless crew had noticed anything.
“Maybe," he said, turning his scope in his hands. “But he left Barbados with fuck all.” He nodded towards the beach. “Where the fuck did that stash come from?”
Everyone and their mum had heard about Thomas’s two raids on large commercial vessels but they didn’t sound like the kind of ships to carry so much coin. Maybe Ned had squirrelled away some trinkets but he was never the most forward-thinking of people when it came to loot.
“Could be he left with more than he let on,” Jo said. “Something portable. Convertible. Jewels or something.”
Hornigold thumbed his beard. “Could be.” Fuck, they were tricky little shits. It had been a long while since he’d had to think about moves and counter-moves before any of them did anything. Movement beyond the western curve of the bay caught his eye and he brought his scope back up.
“Is that Thomas?” Jo asked.
Lowering his scope, Hornigold frowned. “Yeah,” he said. Two men in a smaller dinghy. Thomas dressed up like he was going to a ball, all finely-dressed and polished, but the other man definitely wasn’t Ned. Even from the back, Hornigold could tell that much. Darker skin, short and blacker hair, too narrow in the shoulders and waist.
Where the fuck was Ned?
The stubborn little shit would never want to miss the confrontation and arriving by boat was the only option. The bay was a bugger to get to by land, so no chance of him coming in over the mountains without hours of climbing through jungle.
Unless this was where Izzy's alleged ambush was meant to happen.
“We better head back down,” Jo said. “By the time we get back to the Providence they’ll be on the beach.”
“Mm.” Hornigold lifted his scope again, directing it at the rise of the opposite side of the bay. No sign of the signal yet, but there was still time. He tapped his fingers on the leather of the scope, then nodded. “Back to the ship.”
_______________________________________________
After a couple of days in the gloom of the brig, Izzy squinted against the morning light as he was shoved out onto the deck, the heat of the sun beating down from above. The ship was on the move again and it took him a few seconds to be able to make out the ridge of land off the starboard side. Tree-covered and rocky, it dropped away, curving into a sheltered cove.
“Where are we?” he demanded hoarsely, mouth dry as dust.
“The captain,” a familiar voice said from a few steps away, “wants you to be present at the rendezvous.”
Izzy swung around as much as he could with someone gripping his shoulder.
Burgess was sitting on the barrel of one of the cannons, the Bonnet kid perched beside him, leaning up on the rail and looking out over the water. She’d stolen someone’s hat from somewhere and didn't bother looking around.
“You should keep an eye on her,” Izzy said roughly. “Brat told me she’s jumped overboard before.”
To his surprise, Burgess grinned, showing the gap in his front teeth. “Yeah, I know.” He held up a coil of rope that was clenched in his fist and Izzy followed it with his eyes. It was twisted around the kid’s middle like a leash. “I know how to handle a feral pup.”
“I can see them!” the kid crowed suddenly, straightening up at the rail.
As one, Izzy and Burgess moved to look over the side, Izzy angrily wrenching against his guard’s hand. A nod from Burgess freed him and he strode to the side, looking in the direction the kid was pointing. Sure enough, there was the Gentleman Pirate in all his fancy glory, prancing about on the pale sand with a flock of his useless numpties.
“Huh.”
Izzy glanced sidelong at the man beside him. “Never seen him before, have you?”
Burgess shook his head, his hand straying to his own waistcoat. It was nowhere near as fancy as the frilly blue stuff Thomas was wearing, but it was definitely a lot more colourful than Izzy’s own plain utilitarian black leather one. “Bit of a fop, eh?”
“You wear fancy things just like him,” the brat said, leaning back into him with a grin. “I like your coat.”
“You stole my fucking coat, kid,” Burgess replied, mussing up her hair.
Izzy eyed them. Yeah, the kid was mad as a sack of rats, but Burgess being as soft on her as she was on him was a fucking unexpected development. He shook his head with a scoff, bracing his bound arms on the rail and staring back out over the water. Well, bound technically . After the biting incident, Izzy had wrapped the rope securely back around his wrists. No one seemed to have spotted that it was a different arrangement, loose enough that he could shake it free if he needed to.
Specifically, Burgess hadn’t noticed, which was the big risk. Burgess was a man who liked the little details. He paid attention to everything, Edward had said. Even stupid little things like the way a rope was knotted. But he hadn’t noticed. Or, at least, he hadn’t said anything. Probably distracted by the Bonnet kid. Small mercies, there.
Izzy glanced around one way then the other.
Further up the side of the ship, some of the crew swung a dinghy out to lower onto the water, but Hornigold was still up on the forecastle, staring out to the west.
“What’s he waiting for?” Izzy grumbled. “The bastard’s there already.”
“Are you still going to try to kill him?” the brat demanded.
He turned back to look at her where she was balanced barefoot and grubby on the cannon, one hand sunk into her pocket, eyes sharp and clear. “What if I am?”
“Kid,” Burgess sighed. “He’s not going to kill your dad.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “He stabbed him with a sword before.”
That... was a surprise. “He told you about that?” he demanded, just as Burgess said, “What?”
“Stabbed him all the way through,” the kid told Burgess. “It’s why he has pink bits on his back and front now.”
From the look on the man’s face, he was doing some fucking frantic recalculations. Yeah, he knew Izzy worked for Blackbeard. Yeah, he knew Thomas counted Izzy as his crew. But looked like someone had left out a lot of information. Huh. So that was where Edward picked up that habit as well: don’t tell everyone everything so you’re the only one in control.
Izzy glanced back up at the forecastle where Hornigold had straightened up.
What else had the fucker kept to himself?
“What I don’t understand,” Izzy said conversationally, “is why the fuck you’re letting yourself being led by a man who doesn’t tell you shit. Fuck, did he even mention he doesn’t have a fucking ship anymore?”
Burgess was fucking good, only the smallest flicker around his eyes giving away his confusion. “He mentioned the Ranger had been damaged.”
Izzy laughed sharply. “Damaged?” He shook his head. “Nah. Blackbeard wanted to make sure he couldn’t chase us down, especially with all those guns.” He unfolded one finger, pointing towards the beach and the ponce. “He was the one who made it happen.”
“Made what happen?” Burgess asked, voice dropping to barely a whisper, eyes darting beyond his shoulder.
From the thump of boots, Hornigold was on his way down the steps from the forecastle. Izzy shook his head, dropping his arms down from the rail and straightening up. He turned to keep eyes on Hornigold, not surprised when Burgess pressed in close and pinioned his elbow.
“Where the fuck is his ship, Hands?” Burgess’s voice was low by his ear.
Izzy looked down at his hand, then up at his face. “Bottom of the Republic harbour,” he replied scornfully, jerking his arm free. Burgess swore but Izzy didn’t give a shit. That’s what you got for yoking yourself to someone like Hornigold.
On the port side of the ship, the man himself had leaned out over the rail, speaking down to someone. No sail or masts visible, so probably a smaller boat if it was riding so low in the water. Whatever was said, it must’ve been the news he’d been hoping for because he straightened up, teeth bared in a grin.
Spinning on his heel, he strode across the deck towards them.
“Captain.” Burgess said, sounding pretty fucking neutral for someone who’d just found out what a lying shit their boss was. “What’s our move?”
“You and the kid stay put,” Hornigold said, his eyes fixing on Izzy, cold as his smile was warm. “I’ll take Ned’s dog with me.” His hand moved like lightning, the edge of his blade pushing up under Izzy’s chin. Izzy’s heart jolted, breath hissing between his teeth. “And don’t think I won’t open your throat if you cross me, Iz.”
“Don’t plan to,” he ground out between clenched teeth, staggering when the knife dropped away. Hornigold’s fingers dug into his shoulders, pushing him hard in the direction of the dinghy and bristling, he went.
To his surprise, no one else came with them, just him and Hornigold.
“Don’t worry, Iz,” Hornigold said with that fucking infuriating grin of his as he pulled on the oars. “I’ve got my best shots in place in case the fancy fuck tries anything.” And the unspoken warning of ‘in case you try anything’ hung in the air too.
“What the fuck am I going to try?” Izzy scowled at him. “Not like you left me many options.”
“Smart boy like you?” Hornigold chuckled. “Pretty sure you’d have used your teeth if you had to.”
Had in the past. You did a lot of fucking brutal things in the heat of the moment, when it was your life or theirs.
“And get myself shot before I even touch you?” he sneered. “Don’t fucking think so. You’re not worth it.”
The bastard just laughed in his face.
It only took them a few minutes to get from the ship to the shore and Hornigold swung over the side, splashing up through the surf onto the pale sand. Izzy followed, glancing at the heaped cache in front of the ponce, who was anxiously twisting his hands together.
“Captain Hornigold.”
“Thomas.”
Izzy’s eyes darted along the faces clustered a little way behind Thomas. “Where the fuck’s Edward?”
Thomas’s face tensed. “Somewhere safe.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hornigold said, sounding bored. “What the fuck’s all this?”
Thomas gestured to the trove. “This is the equivalent value of the price listed in the Act of Grace,” he said. “It’s a bit of a clutter of things. We had to pool all our resources to compensate you. I’m also willing to surrender my ship to you as renumeration for the destruction of yours if we can come to amenable terms.”
Izzy rolled his eyes skywards. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”
Hornigold strode closer and kicked at one of the sacks, making it clink and rattle. “And I’m just meant to trust you that this would cover my costs, yeah?”
“It’s all there!” Thomas said stoutly, as if that was enough. “Why would I short-change you? With my daughter’s life at stake?”
“Brat’s not worth a fucking penny of it,” Izzy scoffed.
Thomas stiffened, flashing a glare at him. “You don’t know anything about her,” he snapped.
Izzy held up his hand, showing the bloody great welts she’d left with her teeth. “Fucking do,” he retorted, curling his lip. “Might have Burgess wrapped around her little finger, but she’s as fucking mad as you are.”
“Shut the fuck up, Hands,” Hornigold said mildly. “Thomas, I’m fucking offended.”
Thomas’s face fell. “What? Why?”
“First, you send this complete fuckwit to spin some bullshit tale about an ambush.” He sighed like he was fucking disappointed. “Now, you’re expecting me to accept some coins and trinkets instead of the prize I came for?”
“Well,” Thomas said with a haughty sniff. “As you can see, Edward isn’t here.
“Yeah,” Hornigold said with a boom of a laugh that sent a thread of dread down Izzy’s spine. “I know.”
Thomas raised his chin, nose in the air. “You can have me. You can have my loot. You can have my ship. You don’t get him.”
Hornigold shook his head, chuckling. “You need to get yourself some better people. Can’t trust any fucker these days. They’ll spill all your beans.”
A yell from behind Thomas made the man turn, glancing back at his people. The big lad had leaped to his feet, jabbing a finger out towards the sea and with a sinking feeling, Izzy turned to see the fucking Revenge come around the edge of the cove.
“That’s... no.” Thomas’s voice cracked. “No!”
Izzy whipped back around, staring at him. “Where the fuck’s Edward?”
“He’s on his ship,” Hornigold said cheerfully. “Where else would he be? This motherfucker knocked him down and left him as a gift. Poor fuck was too out of it to put up much of a fight. Not sure what state the boys left him in, but that doesn’t really matter in the long run, does it? Dead is dead.”
Thomas was breathing hard, staring out at his fucking ship on the water. “You told them where to find us?” he choked out.
Izzy remembered that tone of voice, had heard it only once, right before they had to do a St. Martin. His fingers hooked through a loop in the rope on his wrists, jerking them loose. “You left him on the fucking ship, you fucking idiot! You knocked him out ?”
Thomas moved surprisingly fast despite his frills, surging by Hornigold and slamming into Izzy like the wrath of fucking God, his fingers wrapping around Izzy’s throat and squeezing. Izzy gagged, clawing at his wrists with one hand, his other hand fumbling free of the ropes.
“Get the fuck off me!” he rasped out, throwing his weight in Thomas’s direction, making him stumble back a few steps. Gunshots cracked, throwing up puffs of sand around them as he wrestled the bastard back but the fucker’s grip didn’t let up, tightening relentlessly and fuck, Izzy could see the tell-tale black fuzzing the edge of his vision. Too much, too far, if he didn't get loose–
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck .
His fingers skittered along the back of his belt, the razor blade silky and cool against his tingling fingers. Lashed out as much as he could, wrists jerking together in the tangle of rope. Hit something solid in front of him, hard as he could. Hit. Hit something and jerked his hand sideways. Felt cloth give way under the blade. Felt heat. Felt wetness. Staggered as Thomas cried out, fingers dropping away.
Fell down, onto his hands and knees, wheezing, rasping, vision clouded and hazy.
The blade. Red. His hand. Red.
Izzy lifted his head.
Thomas stared back, eyes wide in his stupid fucking face. Clutching at his front. Belly. His belly. Waistcoat split. And... and between his fingers, red and wet and more, spilling and soaking and gaping open.
“Fuck,” Thomas gasped out, reeling back. “Oh fuck.”