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CHAPTER EIGHT; liabilities
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ONE THING HE KNEW FOR SURE was that Ace might've been the most stubborn person he'd ever met. Kaz was someone who didn't show weakness, the Barrel had taught him that. Weakness left people vulnerable for anyone to swoop in and finish them. His bad leg was his weakness, and Kaz let it be the reason people underestimates him. Ace—well, Ace simply refused to have flaws.
Which was why, Nina had to slow her heart rate and force Ace into a coma so she could rest. She'd wake up at times and Nina would force her to eat before repeating the process. She'd been like that for a few days now—The girl won't rest on her own, Brekker, Nina told him, it's either this, or she won't be healthy enough for the heist. No matter how much you two pretend she is.
Kaz wasn't pretending anything. He knew Ace was hurt, he knew that blow to the head had been worse than she'd ever admit, and he saw it the day the pirate showed up on deck the frustration rolling off her in waves as she tried to act like her brain wasn't begging her to stop. And perhaps, that stubbornness to see the job through without a hitch might've been the reason why he'd gone to her cabin every night as the others slept, sat on the stool Nina was usually in and went over the plans for the heist. Or perhaps it had been her quiet stay on the first night, one that had slipped through her lips as she fell asleep—and he'd stupidly replied always to.
On the sixth day on the schooner, Nina had finally deemed Ace healthy enough to take responsibility for her own sleeping schedule again. One thing the Heartrender hadn't thought through was the fact that Ace would be the furthest thing from happy when she woke up. Kaz could've warned Nina. He didn't.
He stood in front of the schooner, leaning back on the hull of the ship, going over some plans when he heard the shouting from below. Everyone on deck froze as a scream rang through the air and one second later, Ace emerged from below deck, lips twisted into a scowl, eyes looking for her next prey, and wearing that skirt and short stay that should barely be considered clothes. Kaz's eyes darted to the spade on her hip, the black ink against her golden skin—how Kaz hated that tattoo, but it matched her name.
Bela Miseria. Beautiful Misery. And that's exactly what she was. Beauty so alluring, so out of reach it left him feeling miserable as he surrounded himself with ghosts. He wanted to touch the skin on her hip, know how her tattoo felt under his fingertips, but his skin crawled at the mere thought of touching flesh. It was misery—beautiful misery. All he wanted was to have her close and instead, in her place, all there was were corpses sloshing in gelid waters, trying to sink him further into an abyss of nightmares.
Yet, now, his nightmares weren't the shadows plaguing his mind, but the girl whose grey eyes narrowed his way, whose jaw twitched in anger. Kaz's lips tugged into a smirk, "Good morning, Misery."
