Chapter 17
Trigger warning: moderate sexual assault, implied rape and torture, blood, and violence in this chapter. Also pain. You've all been warned.
"Isabel?"
Elizabeth stared at the woman in shock. The hair may be caked with grime and dirt, and her tattered shirt and shredded trousers may be unrecognizable, but there was no mistaking her face, gaunt and pale as it was.
She was Isabel.
The woman bared her teeth in a fierce snarl and pushed with all her strength. "Isabel!" Elizabeth pleaded. Noah's daughter was weak, her arms barely skin and bones. And there was a feral look in her eyes—a wild desperation.
"Please, hang on," Elizabeth continued, keeping her grip tight without harming her… her niece at this point. Renown and Repulse stood there, looking conflicted, but she shot them a warning glance. "Isabel, please! Noah sent us!"
The effect was immediate. Isabel's eyes widened, her fingers loosening their hold on the knife. "H-How…? Dad…?" she croaked. Her eyes, red and listless, brimmed with tears.
Elizabeth's heart almost broke at the sight, but rage held it all together. Scars filled Isabel's arms, some obviously fresh, and she didn't want to think what the rest of the woman's body held. Five years she had been kept here. What else had they done to her? Did Evans know what was happening below the castle?
"Your dad thought you were dead." Isabel didn't resist when Elizabeth gently lowered her arm and pried away the knife, handing it to Repulse.
"I-I called to him," Isabel whispered. "B-Before they found me. Mom. They killed Mom!" She slumped on her knees, sobbing.
Jonathan. Elizabeth glanced at the Renown sisters. "You have to leave. Now. Take her out of here. I'll stay and see if I can find what is really happening here."
"We can't just leave you, ma'am," Renown protested. Elizabeth shook her head.
"If it were just us. But we need to bring her back to Noah." She met their gazes. "That's an order."
The Renown sisters exchanged glances then stood straight and saluted. "Aye, ma'am."
"Isabel," Elizabeth said, touching her shoulder gently. "I know you're confused right now, but you have to trust us. They will take you back to your dad."
Sniffling, Isabel looked at the Renown sisters, then to her. Wariness and suspicion churned in her eyes, but a faint glimmer of hope shone through the darkness in them. "You know… Dad?"
Elizabeth smiled. "And Elisa too."
"Auntie." Isabel's tears threatened to spill again, but Elizabeth touched her cheek, soothing her.
"It's all right. Everything will be fine now. But you have to leave." Her heart pounded. Something had been nagging her mind since Anastasia told her she would be leaving after three years under the service of the MacQuaids.
After the party, she had said. Something will happen to the maids after the party. Whatever it was, Elizabeth was certain that this dungeon would be part of it.
"You're… friends with Dad and Auntie?" Isabel's voice quivered.
"My friends and I owe them everything."
The woman's eyes widened slightly, and she didn't resist when Elizabeth took her arm. "Can you walk?" Elizabeth asked. Isabel nodded and rose to her feet, her legs wobbling. She almost stumbled, but Renown caught her, letting Isabel hold her arm for support.
They would be slow. Elizabeth prayed that no one was roaming the castle until they were on the other side of the wall.
"The front entrance will still be guarded." Elizabeth followed them back to the stairs. Repulse took the lead this time, listening intently for any footsteps from outside. "You will need to find another escape route, one that won't harm her."
"Leave it to us, ma'am," Repulse assured her.
They stopped at the door. When they were certain no one was coming, they proceeded down the hall carefully. Elizabeth watched them, anxiety churning in her mind. If only she had found Isabel early, she could have prepared for this, perhaps even asked her sisters and some of the girls to come.
But there was no use berating herself for the things she couldn't do nor was it the time. And as the trio disappeared into the corner, she could only wish them good luck before descending the stairs once more.
She returned to the rooms and checked each one. They were all empty, thank God. She didn't know what she would do if she found another girl. They were obviously meant for holding people, and that thought made her remember Blanc's words a few days ago.
Goods.
Elizabeth shivered in rage and apprehension. If her guess was right, it would explain why Jonathan didn't want Evans to handle more clients. But a guess wasn't enough; she needed evidence.
The adjoining corridor was shrouded in darkness. After making sure that the last room was empty, she hurried along it. Not a moment later, another door appeared on the left-hand wall. She pressed her ears on the wood for a moment. No one seemed to be inside, so she unlocked it and entered cautiously.
A desk at the far wall greeted her, empty yet spotlessly clean. Behind it were filing cabinets. Elizabeth closed the door and immediately strode to the cabinets. They might contain documents that Jonathan didn't want anyone else to see.
Pulling out a random drawer, Elizabeth chose one of the folders and opened it on the desk, setting her torch on the side. She flipped through the pages, but they were just regular shipment records, probably copies of the originals.
She glanced around the room and found another door. A lavatory? Curious, she grabbed the torch then pushed the door open and peered inside.
She almost wished she hadn't.
A massive four-poster bed, intricately carved, dominated the center, but it wasn't what drew her attention.
It was the walls and the pictures taped on their surface—dozens, even hundreds of them, all showing young girls and women in various states of undress, many of whom were lying on a bed or a couch, performing depraved acts that made the bile rise in Elizabeth's throat.
She was glad that her only source of light was her torch; she only saw a small number of the pictures. Otherwise, she would have already vomited on the floor. Only a deviant would do something like this, and she had no doubt about his identity.
Jonathan wasn't shown in the pictures. A precaution, no doubt, should anyone discover this room. Averting her gaze, Elizabeth searched around. She didn't like to know what those closets near the bed held. She was certain they weren't for keeping clothes.
She went to the desk instead. It likely contained some documents that could explain those pictures. She didn't think they were all just for Jonathan's pleasure.
One drawer was empty, another contained… a set of handcuffs. She ignored that and moved down to the next. It didn't open. She tried the keys, but all of them didn't fit into the keyhole.
"Bloody hell," she muttered. Where was the damn key? Surely, it wasn't in one of the closets, was it?
Something glinted as she shone the torch around. There, by the lamp on a side table. With a sigh, Elizabeth grabbed it and unlocked the drawer.
Jackpot.
She picked up the blue folder. It wasn't a manifest, not in the technical sense. It was a compilation of notes and letters addressed to different clients, written in Jonathan's elegant handwriting.
To Mr. Codley,
Payment for the goods have been received. Hope you enjoy.
Yours sincerely,
J
P.S. The brunette is a feisty one.
Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat. There was a picture attached, showing a group of girls lying unconscious on the bed, naked as the day they were born. Not one of them looked older than 17.
Her fingers curled, crumpling the folder's edges. There were more letters and pictures, some even stating that a few of the "goods" were spoilt. Copies of the originals. The names weren't complete, either; Jonathan and his clients were too cautious, so it would be difficult tracing the recipients.
But this alone was a solid evidence. She had to get this to Noah. If only she had a camera, she would take pictures of the walls. But the folder would have to do for now.
She was about to close it when her finger snagged on the next page, flipping it inadvertently. She froze.
Monica's tear-streaked face greeted her. There were no letters, there were just pictures of her, bound and gagged, in the same room Elizabeth was standing on. She was clothed, but Elizabeth didn't want to think about what happened after the pictures were taken.
She checked the drawer again. There was a pink camera, a roll of film, and another picture lying face down. She touched it, her chest almost bursting with how loud her heart drummed. After some hesitation, she flipped it over.
There was so much blood.
"Oh God." Elizabeth squeezed her eyes, and this time she no longer resisted. Leaning on the side, she spilled the contents of her stomach onto the carpeted floor.
Violence never disgusted her; she was a warship, and her cannons had turned human flesh into crimson pastes far more than she cared to count. But this… This was beyond the violence of war. It was just pure torture—an act that only a demented mind could come up with.
But more than the revulsion in her stomach was a fiery rage in her heart, and the urge to find Jonathan and strangle him to death. And whoever else was behind those atrocious acts in the pictures. She had no doubt there were others; half a dozen pair of hands were in the picture.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her shirt's sleeve, Elizabeth stuffed the picture into the folder and took a deep breath. She grabbed the camera and inserted the roll of film inside. It might contain more evidence. Though why Jonathan would keep it was beyond her.
The room brightened as the chandeliers switched on, and then there was a sound of breaking ceramics. She whipped her head toward the door. Her eyes widened.
"M-Miss Elizabeth?" Beatrice whispered, her hands shaking. Tea was already pooling on the floor. She stepped back, whimpering.
There was no use hiding what she had done here, so Elizabeth calmly stepped toward her, ignoring the rising dread in her chest. "Hello, Beatrice."
"What are you doing here?" Fear clouded the maid's eyes, which darted toward the hallway.
"Obviously, not to have an orgy and be sold off."
The reaction was as Elizabeth had expected. Beatrice swallowed, staring at her through a veil of tears. "P-Please, you can't be here."
"Tell that to the girls in the pictures." Beatrice had been here for three years, but Jonathan had been doing this for longer. Judging by her terrified expression, Beatrice knew. "Did you even feel guilty?"
"I had no choice. My family would—"
"Those girls had families too! God, Beatrice. Some of them looked younger than Alina!"
"13." Elizabeth froze. Beatrice continued with a whisper. "A lot of Master Jonathan's clients want them as young as possible. I… I was 13 when the MacQuaids took me in."
"You've been here for 8 years?"
"Vanessa MacQuaid wanted a daughter." Beatrice shut her eyes, almost as if struggling to get the truth out of her lips. "When she and her husband died, I took care of everything until Master Jonathan had recovered enough to take over the company. And that… included the clients."
It was Elizabeth's turn to step back this time, more out of shock than fear. She clutched the folder in her hand. "So you knew what Jonathan was doing?" her voice trembled from fury and disgust.
"I knew, but I couldn't do anything!" Beatrice spoke in a pleading tone. "I didn't want to be sold off, Miss Elizabeth. My family needs me. Master Jonathan promised that he would protect them and me if I help him, so I did."
"Including torturing a woman and locking up her daughter?"
Beatrice fell silent, bowing her head in shame. Pity welled inside Elizabeth, only to dissipate upon remembering Monica's tear-streaked face and Isabel's state. "Step aside, please," she said softly.
Beatrice hesitated. "I will, but only if you return those where you found them." She gestured at the folder and camera.
Elizabeth straightened and held them tightly. "You know I can't."
"Miss Elizabeth, please! Master Jonathan wouldn't take this kindly. If he finds out, you will be—"
"Raped? Tortured? Sold off to deviants? I'm not afraid of him or anyone, Beatrice. Now step aside or—"
"Or what, my dear future sister-in-law?"
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as Jonathan stepped behind Beatrice like a spectre from the darkness. His smile was razor-thin, and his hands were clasped behind his back. Beatrice trembled and drew aside, allowing him to enter the room.
He was dressed nicely in a suit, as if he was still attending a party. Elizabeth didn't want to think what kind of party it was.
"Mr. Blanc and his crew is preparing to depart," Jonathan told Beatrice. "Assist them in getting the shipment ready."
"A shipment of people?" Elizabeth said.
Jonathan looked at her, but ignored her words as Beatrice bowed and strode away. The door closed, the lock clicking softly. Jonathan smiled.
"I wish you hadn't been so perceptive," he said with a sigh. "I was beginning to like you, honestly. You're smart and beautiful. I wouldn't doubt why my brother fell in love with you so easily."
As he approached, Elizabeth stood her ground. Jonathan was blocking the route to the door, and there was the bed on her left. But she could outrun him if it came to it.
As if reading her thoughts, he chuckled. "I would actually prefer some resistance. It makes the sex more exciting."
"Do you really treat women like objects?"
He paused for a moment, then resume his approach. "I didn't treat my mother like one, and neither did my father. But every woman is different, right? And some would gladly have their cunts filled with cock just for money. Some, of course, do it unwillingly. But I let other people deal with them. In exchange for gifts, naturally."
"Disgusting," Elizabeth growled. He was close now, his form looming over her.
"I may be disgusting, but such is how I live my life." He shrugged off his suit and draped it over the nearest table. "And I refuse to let others dictate me. But for you, Lizzie, you will have to follow every word I say. You wouldn't want anything to happen to your family and friends, wouldn't you?"
"Like what you did to my brother's wife and daughter?" she asked, her own voice surprisingly calm. Rage, she knew, was best channeled at the right moment.
"Ah, the pesky journalist and her even peskier daughter." He sighed. "A good fuck, those two. Especially the daughter. But I had to kill the mother, unfortunately. She knew too much, as did her idiot partner."
Elizabeth glared as Jonathan stopped in front of her, smiling. "If the country finds out about—"
"Ah, but that's a big if." His hand hovered over her cheek, and Elizabeth resisted the urge to bite his fingers off. Not yet. "You wouldn't tell anyone, not even my brother. In exchange, everyone you love will be safe."
"You don't know my family and friends."
"Maybe. But you don't know me, either." His thumb passed over her lips, a handbreadth away. "Such a bold threat for a pretty mouth. I saw you walk away with Evans earlier. I can only imagine how good he must have felt using it."
He lowered his hand. "What will it be, Elizabeth? Would you return the camera and my folder? If you do, I'll let you walk away, and I won't touch you. But if you resist…" He let the threat hang in the air.
It was no empty threat, Elizabeth knew. And with Jonathan's connections, he could destroy her family and their life with a phone call. And what would happen if he discovered what she and the others truly were?
She glanced at the wall, at the girls whose lives were utterly destroyed, no doubt even their minds. She saw the look of fear and despair in their eyes, and her heart ached to know they were suffering in different parts of the world.
Elizabeth knew, then, what she had to do.
Taking a deep breath, she stared into Jonathan's eyes. "How do I know you won't go against your word?"
"I didn't touch you, did I?" His gaze roamed over her body. "Though if you want something more binding, I know of another way. It would, however, mean breaking my brother's trust."
Elizabeth understood very well what he meant. She nodded shakily, setting the camera and folder on the table behind her. "If I do this, you won't harm my family and friends?"
He smiled as he started to unbuckle his belt. "As long as you keep reminding me. I sometimes forget things, sadly."
When his trousers and underwear fell, Elizabeth didn't look. She kept her gaze focused on his eyes, which gleamed with lust and satisfaction. "It's bigger than my brother's," he said softly.
"Yes, it is." The perfect size for her to grab.
She touched his throbbing member, and Jonathan groaned. "Good. You've got such good han—"
Elizabeth squeezed, and with all the strength she had, the power of a warship weighing tens of thousands of tonnes, she twisted.
There was a crack, and Jonathan's scream filled the room.
As he collapsed on to the floor writhing and cursing in agony, Elizabeth grabbed the camera and folder and dashed to the door, throwing it open with a powerful kick. Subtlety was of no more use here. If she had to utilize her strength to get out and rescue those poor girls, she would gladly break every door and even the walls if needed.
She reached the stairs leading to the first floor in no time. The corridor was silent as always, and the rain had stopped. Despite the loudness of her thundering heart, Elizabeth thought she heard shouting amid Jonathan's screams.
She burst into a run, and when she finally got to the castle entrance, the shouts were louder. The door was ajar, and beyond it she could see guards running to the walls. Squinting her eyes, Elizabeth glimpsed a dark silhouette jumping over the battlements onto the other side.
One of the Renown sisters.
They wouldn't get far if the guards gave chase. Elizabeth looked around, hoping to find something she could use to distract them. But there was nothing save for… a set of stairs that led to the castle dock.
Blanc's yacht was still moored on the pier, where shadows milled with activity. That was how they would ship off their victims. And from the looks of it, they were getting ready to leave.
Elizabeth cursed. The evidences, Isabel, or Alina and the other maids? She could only prioritize one.
Her mind raced. A second later, she rushed behind a suit of armor to hide the camera and folder. Isabel would be safe with the Renown sisters, but if that ship sailed, those girls would never be seen again.
After making sure the evidences were safe, she peered outside again. The guards were opening the gates, and a van was pulling out of the garage. No one was looking in her direction. This was her chance.
She dashed to the stairs, taking two steps at a time. It was a long descent, and she kept her eyes on the pier, praying that no one would turn their gazes to the cliff.
She had just got into the landing when a torch swept over, but she quickly ducked behind a crate that smelled of fish. Wrinkling her nose, Elizabeth waited. A cacophony of shouts filled the air, spoken in both broken English and French, and a mix of both.
"Hurry! We must be at sea before they wake up!"
None of them seemed concerned of the commotion happening above. But there were at least a dozen guards, and Elizabeth was alone, weaponless. If only she had a gun.
She took a peek. Two armed guards stood fifteen feet ahead, facing the ship and conversing in African. No good. Even if she beat the two of them, the sound would draw attention. And those bullets would certainly hurt her.
There was another guard patrolling the perimeter, fifty feet on her left. Taking a deep breath, she crept toward him, agonizingly slow. It was a good thing she was barefooted, allowing her to mask her footsteps, though it sounded loud in her ears. Or was that her own heart?
The guard turned around to present his back to her. Elizabeth stopped behind a fork truck and waited. When she was sure the guard was not moving, she dashed to him and swung her hand at the back of his neck.
He crumpled like a bowling pin, and she caught him before he could collapse on the wooden floor. His gun, an AK-47, hung by the straps on his shoulder. Not a weapon she would have like to have, but it was better than nothing.
Despite her strength, Elizabeth grunted as he dragged him behind a fork truck. Then she took his gun and looked at the yacht again. Now was the hardest part. How could she even get into the ship without being seen?
Her only route was the water. No one would bother checking it. But the splash would attract attention.
She bit her lip, then shook her head. What else was she going to do? It's either that or let the girls be taken.
She waited until the two guards had walked near the center of the dock, then sprinted as fast as she could toward the railings. She jumped, clutching the gun in her hand, praying that the splash would be drowned out by the shouts in the dock.
Then she landed, and there was hardly a splash. When Elizabeth looked down, she suppressed a gasp.
She was standing on the water. Her slippers were gone, replaced by metal boots that seemingly provided buoyancy. She took a tentative step. She didn't sink.
What the bloody hell?
She shook her head. There's no time to ponder this mystery. Glancing at the yacht's deck, she saw guards patrolling. She would need to be careful.
Her steel boots barely made a sound as she sprinted. She went around the boat, pausing occasionally whenever a guard walked past above her, until she reached the bower anchor. It was cold to her fingers, but she gripped it and began climbing, the barrel of her gun banging on her head.
Upon reaching the top, she scanned the area first before leaping over the railings. Her boots vanished in motes of blue light, her slippers replacing them. She shook her head, then crept along the deck, peering at corners. The girls had to be below deck.
The guards were mostly patrolling the perimeter, leaving the route below deck relatively clear. She ducked from cover to cover until she reached the door leading below.
She took two steps at a time. There were no guards in the corridor, thankfully, allowing her to check every room.
On the third room, she found them. A dozen girls and young women, all bound and gagged, huddled together in their nightgowns. They stared at her with wide eyes, and belatedly, she realized that holding the gun of their captors might not present a good image.
"It's all right," Elizabeth said. "I'm here to help."
Near the center, Alina's muffled voice came. Elizabeth removed her gag and started undoing the knots. "Miss Elizabeth, what are—"
"There's no time. We have to leave now."
Alina didn't protest, and helped her free the other girls. Elizabeth listened intently. No one was coming yet, but it was only a matter of time before the yacht set sail.
She looked at the girls, all of them grateful, all of them waiting for her to take them away from here. Not an easy task.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. "All right. Stay close to me."
They nodded. She went out first, checking the corridor. Clear. Waving a hand, she led them up the stairs. At the top, she peered at the corner.
And came to face a surprised guard.
Elizabeth swung the butt of her gun in an instant at the man's jaw. The guard crumpled to the ground.
Someone shouted. She cursed as gunfire erupted. Elizabeth ducked inside the door instinctively and glanced at the girls. They were trembling and cowering in fear.
Her fingers were also shaking, but she steadied them. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."
She flung the door open. She had never tried this before—there wasn't a need to. But if she could survive a steel block weighing several tonnes, she could survive a hail of bullets.
Probably.
But when she emerged, no hail of bullets greeted her. In fact, no one was even facing her direction. The guards at the yacht had converged at the prow, yelling and shouting as they fired at the dock.
Elizabeth tensed for a moment. Did one of the Renown sisters return? She certainly hoped not. After all, she told them that getting Isabel back to Noah was more important. And she doubted they would disobey her. They seemed to treat her like a superior officer.
She had no time to find out who it was they were shooting at. She recalled seeing a rescue boat by the stern. It would be a tight fit, but they could escape to the nearest city where she could call for the authorities. At least, if the town hadn't done so already with all this ruckus.
"Go! Hurry!" Elizabeth urged the girls. They scampered into the open and ran for the stern. Elizabeth guarded the rear, but no one seemed to have noticed them. She did notice that some of the guards were lying on the floor, groaning and bleeding.
When they reached the stern, the boat was gone. Elizabeth rushed to the railings and saw it speeding away, carrying two passengers.
One of them was Blanc.
She slammed her fist into the railing, ignoring how it cracked and bent from the force. Damn it! That was their only means of escape, and one of the men responsible for this took it.
Her gun could barely reach that far. She wished she had her main cannons. She wished she was a warship, an enormous vessel of steel and gunpowder that could protect these girls while also possessing the strength to blow that boat to smithereens.
She gasped as her heart throbbed, and she sank to her knees, clutching her chest.
"Miss Elizabeth!" Alina cried, rushing to her side. The other maids crowded around her, but Elizabeth barely heard their concerned and terrified voices. Her body… her body was on fire and ice. There was a burning sensation within her—deep within her soul. A flame that sang with power.
And yet her body wouldn't move, as if she was floating deep in the abyss of the ocean. Entombed in darkness. Breathe. She couldn't breathe, couldn't get air into her lungs. Someone pried the gun from her, and now hands were helping her lean on the railings as her entire body trembled. Her vision flickered.
What is happening to me?
The maids cried out in alarm. A man stood nearby, one of Blanc's men. He was pointing a gun at them, shouting in French, but Elizabeth's mind was too muddled to understand. Something about using them himself.
His finger hovered over the trigger, and the maids' terrified faces cleared away some of the fog in her mind. Elizabeth tried to reach for the gun on the floor, but she was stiff, her fingers barely responding to her command.
Someone grabbed it. Then Alina said shakily, "Stay back or I'll shoot!"
No,Elizabeth thought weakly. Alina's hands were shaking, and she undoubtedly had no experience with a gun. She might shoot all of them instead of the guard.
The man was stunned for a moment, then his face contorted in rage. He shouted once more in French, waving his gun. The maids cried, huddling together in fear while brave Alina stood in front of them. A futile attempt at protection.
"Go away! Please!" she cried. But the man kept shouting, kept waving his gun as he started to approach. Then his aim steadied.
Dazed as she was, Elizabeth was still conscious enough to see the signs. The way the man's face hardened, the way his hands tensed, the finger resting on the trigger. Alina didn't see that, but Elizabeth did. And despite her feeble attempt at a warning, she knew it was too late.
A loud crack split the air.
Then silence, as if the very night held its breath.
Elizabeth stared at Alina, still trembling, still standing. Slowly, Elizabeth's gaze turned to the man.
There was a little hole in his, right where his heart was. Blood oozed from it, as well as in his mouth. His gun clattered to the floor. And with a gurgle, he soon joined it.
Standing behind him, holding a gleaming flintlock pistol whose barrel was still smoking, was Drake.
Elizabeth blinked. Then she blinked again.
It was Drake, but she looked different. Her hair was silver, and she was wearing quite a provocative red and white dress, barely covered by a black overcoat. Her hardened expression wasn't something Elizabeth had seen in her before, either.
Drake lowered her gun and strode toward them, only stopping when Alina aimed her rifle at her. Drake sighed. "Put it down, girl. I'm not going to hurt any of you."
"She's a friend," Elizabeth managed to say. She could finally move again, and she rose on wobbly legs. "Franceska."
"Elizabeth." The maids parted to let her approach. She knelt in front of Elizabeth, quickly checking her body for injuries. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
"I don't know," she admitted. She wasn't cold and hot anymore, and her strength seemed to be returning. "What happened to you? Why are you here?" She stared at Drake's clothes. "And, uh…"
"I'll explain later. Right now, we need to get you and the others away from here before more guards arrive."
"Hang on. Rep—uh, Wilma and her sister. We found—"
"Isabel. Yes, I know." Drake glanced back at the castle. Lights were flooding the courtyard, gathering in the center. "We have to go. The police will be here soon. You'll be safe with them, but you need to get away before MacQuaid's men get here."
"You're not coming with us?" Elizabeth asked as they started for the ramp leading to the dock. The maids whimpered at the blood pooling on the floor, but it also urged them to hurry.
Drake shook his head. "I'll go with you as far as the edge of town. But I'll see you again back in England."
Elizabeth didn't understand what Drake was saying. She seemed to be hesitant, especially with the way the others stared at her. Not that Elizabeth wasn't staring, either. Her friend was not just different in how she looked but also the way she moved.
And it wasn't just that. There was an aura surrounding her—an aura of power. Elizabeth couldn't help but imagine roaring cannons and chugging boilers.
They soon arrived at the stairs Elizabeth had taken earlier. But to her surprise, Drake went left, following a narrow path built along the cliff. Below, it was a sheer drop of a hundred feet. There were railings they could grab on to, thankfully.
Elizabeth let Alina and the other maids go first, with her guarding the rear. The path was quite long, perhaps an escape route should the docks become unusable.
Shouts came from above, but they were well hidden from view. It was not long before they emerged outside the castle's outer wall, past some outlying buildings. The town was still half a mile away, separated from them by a grassy field and a long road.
Elizabeth glanced back at the castle. Evans should be awake by now, if he hadn't been by all the commotion earlier. What would he say when he found out she hurt his brother and ruined his family? She didn't regret anything—Jonathan deserved it for what he had done. She only hoped that Evans wouldn't hate her.
They gathered behind a small hay barn, watching the road. Jonathan's men didn't seem to be coming to this direction, but they couldn't be certain.
"What do we do now?" Alina asked. Somehow, she was still clutching the gun Elizabeth took from one of the guards.
Drake scanned the gate and walls, a hundred feet behind them. The battlements were empty, and the shouts were distant. No one was coming out despite the open gate. Whatever was happening inside, Jonathan didn't seem keen on leaving his castle.
"Look! Look!" one of the maids pointed across the road.
Elizabeth heard the sirens even before the first police car drove past. There were dozens of them, accompanied by several ambulances, all speeding toward the castle. There was a roar of engines, and she glanced up the sky to see helicopters circling overhead, their searchlights illuminating the dock and courtyard.
Many of the girls were already sobbing in relief, some collapsing on their knees. But Elizabeth knew it was far from over; questions would be raised, and there were some she might not be able to answer properly.
"Go," Drake said, taking the gun from Alina's shaking hands. It would only cause suspicion if the authorities saw it.
"What will I tell them?" Elizabeth asked.
"Anything. As long as it isn't unusual." Drake swept her gaze across the maids. "That goes for all of you. No one must know that I had been here."
They were confused, and Elizabeth could tell they got a lot of questions. But they nodded, both in gratitude and understanding.
Drake smiled, gently nudging Elizabeth forward. Taking a deep breath, she led the girls back to the castle and the nearest police officer.
###
It was a whirlwind of events after that.
There had been a commotion when they appeared, and the police and paramedics surrounded them, asking questions, taking them to the ambulances. Some of the girls broke down weeping, while others immediately fainted and had to be taken away.
Elizabeth didn't realize how exhausted she was until she was lying on the gurney and being wheeled inside one of the ambulances. Cardiff was miles away, and Colwyn Bay didn't have the proper medical facilities to treat them, so they had to be transported back to England.
A police officer accompanied her, but thankfully he never asked questions other than if she was fine. Elizabeth could only nod, her tongue feeling like lead.
Throughout the hours-long drive, her thoughts drifted to Evans, and she wondered where he was now. She hadn't seen him in the courtyard. Then again, everything happened so fast. She only caught a glimpse of Jonathan's men, many of whom were injured, being carried by paramedics or escorted by authorities.
She was transferred to a Birmingham hospital hours later, where doctors and nurses swarmed over her. It was a little frightening at first; she was alone, and the faces were unfamiliar. But they were kind enough to let her rest afterwards.
It was morning when English police officers arrived, only minutes after Elizabeth ate breakfast. And they weren't alone.
No sooner had they entered, Valiant and Warspite flung themselves at her in a rib-crushing hug.
She hadn't seen or even heard Warspite sob like that. Valiant was more subtle, sniffling and wiping her eyes as they separated.
"I'm all right," Elizabeth mumbled, though her own tears flowed freely.
Her sisters never left her even as the Birmingham chief of police bombarded her with questions. Elizabeth tried to answer them as truthfully as she could, but she had to lie when it came to reaching the yacht.
"They dragged me," was all she said. "When I found the chance, I took a gun."
If the chief found her story odd, he didn't say anything. But he was open about what happened while she was en route to the hospital.
Jonathan and his men were taken into custody, with the former being rushed to the hospital due to his injuries. Most of his men were alive, save for one whose heart had a hole blasted into it.
A thorough search of the castle unearthed more of Jonathan's crimes and secrets: human and sex trafficking in 12 different countries, kidnapping, arson, smuggling and piracy. The list went on. His accomplice, Beatrice, was also taken into custody.
Elizabeth didn't know what to feel. On the one hand, the woman was as much a victim as the rest. But on the other hand, she didn't even try to save the other girls or even herself. She just accepted her fate, even welcomed it in exchange of a good life. Or as much good as her situation allowed.
Evans was also questioned, but since he admitted that he didn't know anything, Welsh police let him leave. Elizabeth was glad for that, though her heart ached for the anguish he must be feeling right now. She wished she could comfort him. But no doubt he didn't want to see her, not with what she did.
"What about…" Elizabeth began when the police chief was quiet for a moment after telling her that Evans had been released an hour ago. "I, uh, found someone else. But we got separated. Her name is—"
"Isabel Dallimore, yes." The police chief nodded, consulting his notes. "She's… Ah, she's your niece?"
"We were adopted into the family two years ago."
"Yes, I was informed." He smiled. "She's safe. It was a good thing two of Mr. Macquaid's maids found her wandering the castle. Your brother and sister have already been informed. I believe they should be with her by now."
"How is she?"
The police chief's expression grew serious. "I'm not sure how much you know about these things, Miss Dallimore. But your niece went through a lot of abuse, both physical and mental. She's in trauma, severely malnourished, and it would take years before she could recover, if ever she would. She is far from being well, I'm afraid."
Elizabeth appreciated the man's honesty, and she nodded. "I understand. We'll do everything to take care of her."
"I'm sure you would."
"What about the evidences?" She had told the police about the camera and manifest as soon as she went to them.
"The evidences are safe," he assured her. "And we have to thank you for finding them. They will help us incriminate Jonathan Macquaid further."
"Will they be enough?"
"More than enough, Miss Dallimore."
"And the girls?"
"Apart from minor injuries, they are safe. Traumatized from their ideal, but they are safe. Again, thanks to you."
He didn't stay long after that. After a few more questions, the police chief soon left. Elizabeth's shoulders sagged. It was only morning, and yet it felt as if a day had passed already.
Her sisters sat in silence, waiting for her to speak. But Elizabeth didn't know what to say. A fog still veiled her mind, and it was difficult for her to think of anything else other than sleeping.
"We wanted to come with Drake," Warspite said. "But she said it would be dangerous."
"It was. You were right not to come. Renown and Repulse barely made it out with Isabel."
Elizabeth's fingers curled. She almost didn't make it out of there, either. Her and the others. Even now, she could still remember the hopelessness she felt at being at the mercy of one of Jonathan's men.
"So it's true?" Valiant asked. "She's alive?"
"Alive, but not whole. You heard what the police chief said." Elizabeth closed her eyes. She should have castrated Jonathan rather than simply breaking him. It would have been a better punishment.
"After five years…" Warspite shook her head, her eyes darkening with fury. "We should have really come, if only to beat up that man within an inch of his life."
"Calling him a human would be an insult to humanity itself, sister. The things he did to Isabel and Monica, and the other victims, were not the acts of a human."
Elizabeth squeezed her eyes. The images came to her, fresh as the moment she had seen them. The blood, the tears, the uncompromising positions. How many had it been? Dozens? Hundreds? Lives that would never recover, and would never be recovered.
Back then, she was a warship that protected her nation and people. Now she was just a human. Yes, she had incredible strength, but that meant nothing if she couldn't even see the suffering of others until it was too late.
What use was there in being reborn then?
And what use was her power if she couldn't properly use it to save others?
"Sister?" Valiant asked.
When Elizabeth opened her eyes, Valiant and Warspite were looking at her in concern. She took a deep breath. "I'm all right."
At least, that was what she wanted to believe.
###
She was released from the hospital the next morning.
Brian drove them back to the estate, where the girls gave her a warm welcome back mini-party. She smiled in gratitude, and she interacted with everyone as much as her strength, both physical and mental, would allow. But she knew they could all tell that she was in no mood to indulge in merrymaking.
She retired to bed early, but her rest was plagued with nightmares. Terrible images and sounds filled her dreams: blood-soaked corpses, the screams of young girls and women, a few of whom bore the pleading faces of those she knew.
Elizabeth, too, wanted to scream, to escape the mental torment. But it was as if her own mind had bound her in chains, forcing her to endure this nightmarish torture. And no matter what she did, the chains wouldn't loosen.
She had almost given up when the images were swept away like dust, leaving her in utter darkness. A brief respite for a more terrible ordeal, she knew. But she was prepared this time, and she readied herself for the onslaught.
It never came. In the darkness, a silver-blue silhouette materialized in front of her. It was formless, shifting and wavering, as if uncertain what shape to take.
You are not yet ready,it said.But when you are, remember your purpose.
Her purpose. What was her purpose? Elizabeth tried to speak, but no words would escape her lips.
The silhouette dimmed, ready to fade. Before it completely vanished, Elizabeth heard it speak one last time.
Don't worry. Your time will come.
###
Her eyes snapped open.
Elizabeth stared at the ceiling, so different from the one that always greeted her every morning back in the Macquaid's castle. Here the wood was rough and worn from age, there it was polished smooth, meticulously cleaned.
Was that how Jonathan tricked his victims and even his guests? By showing them a well-maintained facade of perfection? If not for that sound she had heard on her first night, Elizabeth might have remained ignorant for the rest of her life.
Her purpose. What was that dream about? It was so bizarre and different from her last dream. She might have not even taken it seriously if not for her own strange circumstances as a former warship.
She wasn't yet ready… for what?
Her head throbbed just thinking about it. Certainly she would't know until the right moment, but she wished that the voice could have at least provided her with something, anything, to serve her as her guide. For now, Drake was her hope in getting the answers she needed.
Elizabeth wasn't surprised, then, when she found her friend and mentor calmly sitting tea in the dining room, as Drake always did every morning whenever she visited. Unlike that night, she wore casual clothes this time, a blouse and a jeans.
The room was empty. Elizabeth stared at her from the door, uncertainty plaguing her. The first time they've met, Drake had not been honest, and it took another reborn warship arriving to make her reveal her identity. Would she keep secrets again?
"If you take a seat, I'll promise to answer your questions to the best of my knowledge."
The hesitation vanished. Slowly, Elizabeth sat opposite Drake. There was food on the table. Drake wasn't touching it, so Elizabeth assumed it was for her. She woke up late, after all.
"What are we?" she asked without preamble. She wanted her answers now.
"Humans," Drake said instantly, her gaze fixed on her teacup.
"Humans who could walk on water?"
The cup froze halfway to Drake's lips, and she finally looked at her. Elizabeth didn't bother hiding her scowl. She was done being in the dark about her existence.
With a sigh, Drake lowered her cup. "We could walk on water, that's true. At least you and I. You have boots when you got into the water?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Metal ones, yes. Though they didn't appear during my swimming tryouts last year."
"They won't appear unless you will them to or when you're in danger. And they are not the only ones that will appear."
"What do you mean?"
Drake held up her hand, and the same flintlock pistol Elizabeth saw that night appeared on the woman's palm. Her eyes widened.
"I also have a saber, though I haven't really found the opportunity to use it."
"A saber?!"
The pistol vanished. Drake lowered her hand. "And more. But I can't reveal them to you right now."
"Why not?" If Elizabeth also possessed those kind of weapons, she could protect them from any threat.
"Well, for one, this room isn't large enough."
"And the other?"
Drake stared at her intensely. "I don't want you to attempt something you're not ready for yet."
Elizabeth's eyebrows furrowed. It wasn't too different from what the voice in her dream had said. "You make it sound like it can kill me."
"Using it won't kill you. But it can lead to complications that your family and friends don't have the time to deal with right now. Remember, the Navy Board likely hasn't cleared you and the others of suspicion yet."
Her fingers curling, Elizabeth lowered her gaze. It was true that the Navy Board hadn't stopped their surveillance, though they had become infrequent in the past few months. But with the incident at the MacQuaid's castle, she had no doubt they would start investigating again.
"Humanity isn't yet ready for this power," Drake said gently. Elizabeth raised her head to look at her. "And if the world finds out, it would only cause you and Noah untold grief."
Elizabeth nodded. She could understand that much, at least. "And the others? Can they use this power as well?"
"I have no reason to believe that they couldn't." She sighed. "And if more of us show up…"
The implication wasn't lost on Elizabeth. She shivered. Hundreds of girls and women with inhuman strength and the ability to summon weapons. She could only guess how the world would react to them.
"Don't trouble yourself about it for now," Drake said. "What you need is rest."
"It might be hard for me to rest after what you've shown and told me."
Drake chuckled softly. "That's true. The first time I manifested my pistol, I was just as shocked as you. But I learned to accept that I'm not entirely human."
Not entirely human. The words echoed inside Elizabeth's head. Yes, she wasn't a human, even if she looked and acted like one. She wasn't a ship, either. She was something in between. All of them were.
But if they weren't one or the other, then what were they? And why were they here?
###
Later that day, Noah returned home.
Elizabeth had been sitting outside in the gazebo when the car pulled up to the gate and Noah stepped out in civilian clothes. Elizabeth rushed to him in an instant, throwing open the gate and embracing him tightly.
"Elizabeth," Noah said softly, brushing her hair. His voice was weary, and when she extricated herself from his arms, she saw his tired eyes, veiled with guilt and sadness.
"How's Isabel?" Elizabeth asked, guiding him toward the gazebo while Brian drove the car inside.
He sighed. "Better than when you found her. She's responding to us, to me. But…"
"I know. It would take a long time for her to recover."
They sat opposite each other. Noah rested his hands on his knees, avoiding Elizabeth's gaze. She wondered why. It was obvious he wanted to tell her something, but by his conflicted expression, he was having difficulty saying it.
Then he took a shuddering breath and said softly, "I'm sorry. I wasn't there to save you. Both of you."
Elizabeth knew who the other was, and she also knew this wasn't the first time Noah had uttered those words. She took his hand and gently squeezed it. "It's not your fault, Noah. We didn't know." She didn't know, didn't even suspect until it was too late.
"No, it's mine. It's always been mine." His other hand clenched. "I've seen the pictures, Elizabeth. All of them."
She stiffened. In his eyes, she saw hollowness, their brightness dimmed. Her heart ached at the sight. Perhaps Warspite was right. Perhaps all of them should have gone with Drake and took turns unleashing their strength at Jonathan.
But would that have changed anything? The past was done, and all they could do was to move forward, hoping that they had learned from their mistakes.
"What do you feel?" she asked. He still hadn't let go of her hand.
"Like I want to place justice on my hands," Noah said. "The evidences are stacked up against him, but Jonathan Macquaid has enough power and influence to overturn the court's decision."
"I'll testify if I had to. I was the one who found Isabel. And…" She paused, remembering what she did that night. It might have been necessary, but it was still revolting how she had to touch another man after sleeping with Evans. Worse still, it was a horrible man and Evans's own brother.
Her hands shook, so she stilled them. But Noah was quick to notice. "Elizabeth?"
She smiled faintly. "It's nothing." She hadn't told anyone about it, not even her sisters.
"It's not nothing. I've seen that with Isabel." His expression hardened. "He did something to you."
Choosing her words carefully, Elizabeth said, "No. No, he didn't. Nor would I have allowed him to." She paused. "In fact, I didn't allow him." She retracted her hands and told Noah everything.
As she spoke, it was as if a great load was lifted from her. Her heart felt lighter, though a great part of it was still in pain. When she finished, she stared at Noah.
His eyes now blazed with fury. He inhaled, and the rage subsided, but not completely. "They told me he was injured, but they didn't know how. So it was you?"
She nodded. "It wasn't something I would ever repeat again, but…" She hesitated, but only for a moment. "I wish I did more. Make him suffer more for everything he had done to you, and to the other victims."
He shook his head. "I don't want you to taint your hands, Elizabeth."
"I was a warship. I'm already tainted even before I became a human. And if I have to taint my hands again to protect you and the others, I will gladly do it."
His expression softened. "That's not the life I wished for you."
"I know. But the world is dangerous, Noah. I've known it since the war. And while it has ended for decades, some people still harm the innocents and the weak." She looked at her hands. "I was born with strength. I have to use it."
After all, she was named after a queen. And a queen would never let harm befall her people.
###
A month passed.
Noah was granted a two-week break to settle matters with Isabel. Due to her extremely long confinement and her current mental state, she was admitted to an institution, and would stay there indefinitely until she was ready to return to society.
Noah and Elisa visited her almost every day. Sometimes Elizabeth would come, but she would mostly stay out of sight; she wanted to give Noah and his daughter the time they had lost.
Meanwhile, Jonathan's case was still being reviewed. There were a mountain of evidences against him, however, and it would take a miracle for him to be acquitted. Many of his clients had been arrested already, but a lot more, including Blanc, remained at large.
Elizabeth hadn't heard from Evans since that night. He stopped calling, and while her heart terribly missed him, she didn't want to be the one to break the silence between them. It would be inappropriate, even if she had done the right thing by exposing his brother's crimes.
And so the weeks passed. By August, Elizabeth was preparing for another year at King's College, and she did her best not to think about what would happen if she encountered Evans. Their relationship was over, so she would like to think he'd just avoid her. But that outcome was better than him hating her.
By the second week of September, Noah and Elizabeth were invited for Jonathan's trial. Elizabeth refused being a witness; her story got some loop holes that might be used for Jonathan's benefit. Not to mention his injury.
The last time she heard, he could no longer have a child.
She and Noah attended the trial, sitting at the very back, near the door. Evans was there by the front row seats alongside several lawyers. Elizabeth could only see the back of his head, but it was enough to make her chest tighten.
She ignored him and focused her attention on the court proceedings. When Jonathan was brought out, he looked fresh and confident, as if he hadn't spent months, and wouldn't be spending more, in prison. Was he really that conceited to believe his victory despite the odds being heavily against him?
The trial was long and frustrating. Jonathan's defense was simple: he didn't know there was a dungeon beneath the castle, and since the documents and pictures bore no traces of his signature and face, they couldn't use it against him.
Elizabeth wanted to scream, and judging by Noah's clenched hands, even he was resisting the urge to do something they would all regret. It became even worse when Jonathan placed all the blame on Beatrice, citing her as the mastermind. It was her plan, he had said. And when he refused, she raped him one night and then coerced him to be an unwilling accomplice through blackmail.
At that point, Elizabeth wished she could summon a sword and use it to castrate him completely.
The evidences, however, were numerous and solid. Monica's camera and its roll of film contained snapshots of various documents and Jonathan's meeting with his clients. There was also the folder Elizabeth found. When asked why he had the camera, Jonathanb couldn't answer.
Elizabeth had a suspicion it had to do with keeping his clients in line. It would be easy to blackmail them with the photos in the event that their deals turned sour, even if Jonathan's face was visible.
As the trial dragged on and the favor started to swing against him, Jonathan's smug expression gradually vanished. But it wasn't until the witnesses started arriving, with Beatrice alongside them, that his mask of confidence shattered.
All of the witnesses—Alina and the other maids, and even several former clients—told the same story: how Jonathan would hire girls and young women with the pretense of a stable job, how he would host parties where some of the guests would drug the maids and take them to the dungeon, where they would indulge in debauchery. In most cases, though, the victims would be taken to a boat, never to be seen again once it sailed.
Beatrice provided the most information. She listed all the clients she knew, the meetings Jonathan had with them, the payment and gifts he had received in exchange for being a good "supplier". And she revealed the numerous nights he would force himself on her, the threats to her family she would get if she refused.
Once, while she was talking, Beatrice's gaze met Elizabeth's, and Elizabeth saw the guilt and remorse in them, the sincerity in her actions and words. She merely nodded in approval. It would take a long time before she could forgive Beatrice, but she could at least acknowledge her way of atoning for her crimes.
When the topic moved to Isabel's confinement and Monica's murder, Elizabeth noticed Noah tensing. Beatrice was honest with the information, even down to the specific acts both mother and daughter were subjected to. Elizabeth could only clench her fists in anger, and when she glanced at Noah, she only saw pure rage.
The short lunch break provided enough respite for Noah to calm down, but by the time they returned to their seats, his hands were still trembling. Elizabeth squeezed them, offering what comfort she could. Before long, they had stopped shaking, and the final verdict was announced.
Double lifetime imprisonment for sex and human trafficking, murder, rape, illegal smuggling, blackmail, and a host of other crimes.
Jonathan MacQuaid would live the rest of his life in a prison, where he could no longer hurt other women.
There was much weeping in the court room, especially from the victims. Noah squeezed Elizabeth's hand, and she sent him a smile, feeling a hotness on her eyes.
She wiped her tears and glanced at Jonathan and Evans. The former wore a blank, almost dead expression, while the latter could only bow his head in acceptance.
Elizabeth turned her gaze away. Alina and some of the other maids were approaching her, a few still weeping. She pulled Elizabeth into a bone-crushing, showering her with gratitude, her words being echoed by the others.
And Elizabeth was glad she could save them, but a part of her wondered what it would have been if she had remained ignorant. Would she be happy with Evans while something evil happens in his own home?
She didn't know. And perhaps it was better that she never knew.
###
Two days later, Elizabeth received a small letter. The message was brief.
Today at noon, at the café.
She recognized Evans's handwriting, of course. And while it was only six words, they contained enough emotion that she could guess why he would want to talk with her. A conclusion. A farewell.
No one knew where she was going, but she told Warspite that she would be gone for a few hours. Elizabeth's sister didn't prod her for details; she was the one who found the note lying on the ground inside the gate.
An hour and a half later, Elizabeth found herself waiting at their usual table. She arrived early, hoping that she could at least decide whether she wanted to proceed with the inevitable or not. But now that she was here, her legs refused to obey her commands.
Just as she was about to force herself into a decision, she smelled his cologne.
"I didn't think you'd actually come."
Elizabeth looked up, and her heart nearly burst. Evans smiled at her, but it wasn't a smile of joy. It didn't reach his ears, the warmth absent. His eyes, once full of life and energy, seemed as dark as the depths of the sea—a void.
He sat down. Silence reigned between them, neither side willing to break it. Elizabeth wanted to say a host of things to him; how she missed his smiles, his teases, the warmth of his body. But the words wouldn't leave her lips.
"I'm leaving for France tomorrow."
She looked at him. He didn't avoid her gaze. A part of her wanted to ask why he would be leaving, but she struggled to find the right way to say it, and all she could do was to nod silently. Beneath the table, she clenched her hands.
He continued. "It will be a long time before I can return." She didn't answer. "And… I will sell the castle. Maybe someone else will find better use of it."
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked softly. They were done. She had ruined his family, his life. Why was he acting like it still mattered what she would say?
"I…" Evans shook his head helplessly. "I thought it was you, Liz. I thought you were the one I would spend my life with."
"And I destroyed your dream. I destroyed your family too." She smiled bitterly. "It's fine. You can hate me."
"I would never hate you." His expression was pained, desperate. "I will never hate you. It's you who should hate me. If only I had discovered sooner about my brother, I would have…"
"Stop." That should be my line. "Please, just stop." It was never your fault.
His words halted. Evans took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," he said. "I just need time to think. But I will return. I promise. I will return to you."
He stood up. Elizabeth didn't look in his direction, didn't even acknowledge his presence. If she did, she might never let him go.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I love you."
And then he was gone, leaving her in a cold empty table.
###
It took her some minutes, but when the reality of Evan's absence finally hit her, she whispered, "I love you too."
The tears were already streaming down her cheeks even before she was out the door.
"St. Dymphna Hospital, please," she told the cab driver after reaching Hampshire.
Her tears had long stopped flowing earlier, and now there was an emptiness in her chest—a hole that she didn't know how to fill.
Noah told her once that she should live life as a human, but how could she do that if the very person that made her feel more alive than before had left her? And it was her fault. No matter what Evans said, it was still her fault.
She wanted to go home, but a part of her somehow uttered the name of the hospital where Isabel was staying at. Why, she didn't know. It wasn't even her time to visit yet. And Isabel would probably be resting now. Besides, what would Elizabeth tell her if she were awake? Matters of the heart wasn't something the young woman should hear.
The cab drove on. Elizabeth remained silent, watching the houses passed by. She didn't even realized they had arrived until the driver told her.
When she got out of the cab, she stared at the building for some minutes. Calling it a hospital would be an overstatement. It was more of a vacation home, albeit five stories high, with a sprawling garden at the front. She had visited a few times. The rooms felt like actual rooms, not the ones that smelled sterile and were painted white.
After showing her visitor's card, Elizabeth went to the east wing where the younger patients were staying. Isabel's room was on the second floor, facing the garden and the morning sun.
Her keen hearing picked up the laughter two doors away. She peered inside the small glass panel caretakers used to check on the patients. The curtains were pulled away.
Isabel was resting on the bed, and Noah sat beside her. They were both… laughing. Elizabeth had not seen Noah let loose like that before, a true genuine laugh. And Isabel as well. It's only been a few weeks, but she looked healthier and happier than when Elizabeth had found her.
Elizabeth's eyes stung. They looked happy. They were happy. And here she was moping because the person that made her happy was no longer by her side. What a cruel twist of fate.
She turned to leave. It was a mistake coming here. She was happy for Noah and Isabel, but now the void in her heart had only grown, threatening to swallow her from the inside.
"Oh! Ma'am!"
Elizabeth stopped. A smiling Brian stood in front of her, holding a bag of groceries. "You didn't say you would visit."
"Uh, no. I was just checki—"
"Hold on. Let me just placed it here." He lowered the bags then opened the door. Elizabeth paled.
"N-No, wait!"
"Commander! Your sister is here!"
Elizabeth grimaced, then forced a smile as Brian stepped aside. Noah and Isabel looked at her in surprise.
"Elizabeth?" Noah asked. "What are you doing here? Edith said you went out shopping."
She swallowed and entered. Hopefully, they wouldn't notice her puffy eyes. "Oh, that. I, uh, didn't see anything worth buying, so I thought I'd just visit Isabel."
He studied her. Very few details escape Noah's attention. And when his gaze softened, Elizabeth knew. He nodded, smiling. "Well, more company is better. Right, Isabel?"
"Yes." She beamed. "How are you, auntie?"
"I'm doing well." There was a slight hitch in her voice. "You look better yourself."
"Thanks to the wonderful doctors here. And…" She glanced at Noah, who gave her an encouraging nod. When she looked away, Noah sighed and motioned for Elizabeth to come closer.
Elizabeth frowned as she approached. "Is something the matter?" She looked at each of them.
"She wants to tell you something," he said.
"Oh?" Despite herself, Elizabeth managed a smile. "What is it, Isabel?"
Isabel seemed to struggle for a while, stammering. "W-Well, I never got to say it before, not after everything that happened. And you never stayed long enough on your visits. So…"
And then she stood. Elizabeth stared as the young woman took her hand, smiling. Her eyes glistened with tears, and in them Elizabeth saw it.
Gratitude.
"Thank you for saving me."
The words rang inside Elizabeth's ears, even as Isabel broke and wrapped her in a tight embrace, weeping on Elizabeth's shoulder. She stood there blankly. Something in her heart stirred.
She had saved someone. Just like she had done so many years ago, when all she had been was steel and oil. She saved people, even if she was just a human.
Another pair of arms engulfed both of them, trapping them in warmth. "You saved both of us," Noah said gently.
She tried to control it. She really did. But the tears poured freely, and soon Elizabeth's own sobs filled the room.
A lot of things to discuss.
First, the reasons why it took so long to write this chapter. Obviously, this is the longest chapter so far in the story. I was supposed to post this last month, exactly on October 16—right on HMS Queen Elizabeth's real world launch date. Pretty dark, I know. But that's probably why I got dengue fever and diarrhea for two weeks, preventing me from finishing this story. 😂
Now for the chapter itself. Yeah, the beginning totally happened. But if you were disgusted by it, so did I. In fact, I was ready to drop the whole scene. However, I felt it was definitely needed considering the nature of this arc.
But hey, more Azure Lane lore in this chapter, and we get a glimpse of riggings and weapons. More will definitely come next chapter. Because, guess what? There will be a 4-5 years timeskip, and we will see a lot of familiar faces, including Hood!
And to top it all, the next chapter will be dark as well. Yay!
So once again, thank you for all the support!