Waves tossed the large boat, cold, biting wind whipping through the air as salty spray stung Antoine’s face.
He knelt on the deck, steel chains wrapped tightly from neck to waist, his arms pinned to his sides. But it wasn’t the chains that crippled him. It was his despair.
Tobias stood nearby, his face still a mess, his remaining eye glaring hatred at Antoine. Nico lounged against the rail, gripping it as the boat pitched and yawed.
Roberto was inside, sheltered from the elements.
Raphael was somewhere on board, seeing the Curia’s work done.
Even Gabriel had wanted to come, but when Roberto refused, he’d simply waved at Antoine and said he had places to be anyway.
Antoine strained against the chains, his muscles burning with the effort, but without leverage, he’d never break free.
Far behind them, the lights of Boston may still have been visible in the night sky, but Antoine couldn’t turn to look.
Mon amour, je suis désolé.Sorry was so inadequate. He’d doomed her.Please forgive me.
How long would it take for her power to grow to the point it killed her? Would she live if Gabriel fed from her?
Was knowing she lived as a chattel to that traitorous bastard worse than the entombment he faced?
He tried to tell himself that at least she would live, but the thought brought scant comfort.
A loud rattle of chains marked the anchor’s fall, the engines of the boatdropping to an idle. The fierce wind whipped around the deck as it pitched and tossed amid the waves. Roberto appeared with four thralls carrying a steel box between them. It looked like a coffin.
Cally would find that ironic.
“Noah! Noah!”He’d almost given up trying. They were too far out to sea.
Where was Belle? Why hadn’t she helped, when she’d promised? Why hadn’t he gone with her? At least she understood—they could’ve taken Cally with them.
But Belle would’ve turned her. He knew she would.
The thralls dropped the steel box onto the deck, pulling back the lid. It was empty inside.
“Put him in,” Roberto ordered.
Nico and Tobias stepped forward, lifting him as though he weighed nothing.
Antoine struggled against the chains, but it was futile. Even if he could get a hand free, they’d just chop it off.
“Non!” The word slipped out before he could stop it, but they forced him into the box regardless, his struggles amounting to nothing but a reason for Roberto to chuckle
The lid slammed down on him, cutting off his last view of the dense dark clouds. Boston had long since slipped beyond the sea’s curve, leaving only a faint orange glow to mark its presence.
“Non!”he shouted. “Please don’t do this!”
The rattle of more chains as they wrapped the box, turning it as they needed to, tossing him around.
“Noah!”A frantic call, unanswered once again.
The box was lifted and carried across the ship.
“Please, Roberto. Raphael, please!”
The world lurched. His box fell, twisting and turning, then struck hard. He was thrown against the side.
Water rushed in, seeping through every crack—icy and gray—soaking into his clothes and chilling him to the bone. Or was that his fear and despair?