When dinnertime came around, not much had changed in the hope department. Gray remained crushed at his own weakness and resigned about the whole outcome. But there was something more useful than hope that Darius had managed to smash straight into Gray’s soul. Determination.

He wasn’t gonna go down without a fight, and he’d inflict as much damage as he could on the motherfuckers who deserved it.

Dinner was once again served on the upper deck, and Gray had work to do this time. Darius was a man who thought of multiple scenarios and created plans for each one, so it wasn’t until they reached the deck that Gray knew what his first task would be.

There was a spot available next to where Cole was restrained.

Darius slipped a small baggie into Gray’s hand, then ordered him to kneel by the slave posts.

The whole area was bathed in the rays from the sunset. Judging by the sounds of laughter and champagne glasses clinking, no one would know a boy was murdered here earlier.

Gray kneeled between Cole and Milo, and Darius bent over to shackle his wrists to the gleaming post. While doing so, he grabbed the baggie again, only to slip it into the waistband of Gray’s underwear.

Gray had only gotten a glimpse of Milo, and it’d been enough to sicken him. The young boy could barely see; his eyes were almost swollen shut. Blood was trickling from his neck and ears, and his torso shifted in shades of blue and purple.

Gray swallowed hard as the heavy shackles circled his wrists.

“Be good for me, boy.” Darius gave Gray’s cheek a smack before aiming for the bar by the pool.

“We have drinks here, dear Mr. B,” Red hollered.

Darius’s steps faltered, and he threw the ugly bitch a smirk over his shoulder. “You don’t have staff toys there, do you?”

“Oh.” Red put a hand on her chest and laughed. The sight of her made Gray’s hatred flare. “Right you are. Enjoy our selection, handsome.” While she returned her attention to the men around the table, Darius reached the bar where Jonas stood stoically and ready to serve.

There was another guy from the staff too, and he was sent away.

“Are you okay?” Cole asked under his breath.

Gray stopped staring after Darius and faced forward instead. “Yeah. You?”

“I guess.”

There was no use in saying no. Despite being living, breathing bruises, they were alive.

“Milo,” Gray whispered.

“He won’t answer,” Cole replied quietly. “I’ve tried. I don’t know if he can hear.”

It didn’t seem like it. The sick son of a bitch who’d bought Milo had aimed too much violence at his face. Robbing him of his senses.

“I need you to listen to me.” Gray addressed Cole again and eyed the table to make sure the others were occupied. “If I get the chance tonight in the dungeon, I’m going to throw myself at you to create a diversion. It’s important you don’t do anything to earn a punishment.”

“Wait, what—”

“Please just listen,” Gray whispered urgently. “We’re getting out of here. You don’t have to believe a word of what I’m saying, but there’s a plan.” He saw Cole stiffening in his periphery. If it was in disbelief or hope, Gray didn’t know. “All I need from you is for you to keep your mouth shut. And I need to know as many stateroom numbers as possible. Where our guys are located, I mean. I gotta know the room numbers.”

Cole let out a short breath, still tense. “You’re not serious. Everyone knows your shithead owner fooled you, Gray. The fat fuck who bought me tried to do the same with me yesterday.”

Gray ignored the sting of humiliation and scanned the dining table. Only one man fit the description of “fat fuck,” and it would be the British guy. The one who’d complained that his slave didn’t scream when having his fingers broken.

“You don’t have to believe me,” Gray repeated under his breath. “You won’t lose squat by helping me, though. Just give me as many room numbers as you know, and don’t move when I come at you later in the dungeon. You can even fight me off if you want.”

Cole didn’t reply.

Fuck. Licking his lips nervously, impatiently, Gray let his gaze travel across the deck to the bar where Darius was speaking to Jonas. The guy was around Gray’s age, he guessed. A bit shorter and more slender, though he still managed to look hardened. His sharp features and closely cropped hair helped. His movements were methodical and fluid, and he mixed drinks while listening to what Darius said. Every now and then, Jonas would nod hesitantly or shake his head minutely.

Three servers appeared with carts full of food, and it raised the hum of the conversations flowing at the table.

Gray winced and shifted on his knees. Being so battered and bruised meant he couldn’t hold a position for long, and his knees were starting to protest by sending sharp bolts of pain up his thighs.

“Lee, Oscar, and I are always restrained,” Cole whispered. Gray caught himself right before he could whip his head in Cole’s direction. “Philip—the bastard who bought me… He wouldn’t be a match for me, and he knows it. A guard escorts us wherever we go. Same with Lee and Oscar’s owner, since he’s dealing with two. I don’t know his name, but their cabin is next to ours—number eight. I’m in nine.”

Gray swallowed and stored the information. Darius had shown him a rough drawing of the map of the yacht, and if it was correct, staterooms eight and nine were on the other side of the boat, same floor as Darius and Gray’s cabin.

One guard patrolled each deck at night. Evidently, Darius had been busy the two nights Gray had been drugged.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, and Gray adjusted his gaze enough to see it was Jonas who was walking toward him. This was it. They were about to find out if Darius was right, that’d he’d seen fury in Jonas—directed at the guards—when Linus had jumped overboard.

Fury was good. Fury could turn a person into a lethal warrior.

A guard became alert at Jonas’s approach, but Darius said it was all right. “I want to see if the pets have any chemistry.” He took a sip of his whiskey and stayed by the bar for now, even as dinner was being served and the others were digging in.

A few weren’t here, Gray noted, which wasn’t too weird. The meals weren’t mandatory to participate in.

Jonas slowed down before he reached Gray. The hesitancy was written all over Jonas, something Darius had banked on. This was an opportunity for Jonas to ask Gray if Darius could be trusted, and Gray hoped it was enough.

Carefully, Jonas got down on one knee in front of Gray. His eyes were light brown and shone with every emotion Gray had seen countless times in the other guys who’d been taken. Except, Jonas had apparently been tricked into taking a job here. Same shit, really.

Darius was walking over. “Don’t be shy, slave.” Okay, maybe he wasn’t coming here, after all. He passed the slave posts instead on his way to the table.

Jonas jumped slightly, then eased closer to Gray and coughed into his fist. “I’m…I’m supposed to touch you.”

Gray dipped his chin once. Under the guise of entertaining a buyer who wanted to have some extra fun tonight, they were going to put on a minor display of touching one another. Well…Gray couldn’t do much with his hands shackled. Either way, it would give them a sliver of time to talk. And for Jonas to take the drugs tucked into Gray’s boxer briefs.

Jonas closed the distance and placed his hands cautiously on Gray’s hips. His fingers were cold to the touch, and being so close revealed things Gray hadn’t seen earlier today. Like the scars on Jonas’s torso. Like his ribs showing, the shadows under his eyes, and the needle marks along his arms.

“Is Mr. B for real?” Jonas whispered, snaking his arms around Gray’s middle.

“Yes.” Gray slowly rested his forehead against Jonas’s shoulder. “He’s been showing me where he keeps guns hidden on board.” Only a small lie, as he hadn’t actually seen them. But he needed to convince Jonas. And Cole, for that matter. Without help, it’d be a lot harder to escape. “He’s done this before,” he added in a hushed tone. “My family knows him too. He was sent here to rescue me and as many as he could.”

“Okay.” Jonas sucked in a breath as he ghosted his fingers over an angry welt on Gray’s back. “I have nothing more to lose. My life here is worthless. Tell me where the stuff is, and I’ll help as best I can.”

Relief hit Gray squarely in the chest, quickly followed by a generous dose of adrenaline. He hadn’t anticipated the last one, but now it slithered through his veins.

“Waistband, left hip,” he whispered. “Do you know how to distribute it?”

Jonas nodded slowly and dipped his fingers underneath the waistband until he found the plastic baggie. “Mr. B gave me instructions. I’ll get it done.”

Against Gray’s will, those words gave him a sliver of hope. It terrified him. If he lost it again, he knew he wouldn’t survive. He was hanging on by a thread as it was, and he didn’t even know the last stages of the plan yet. He only knew the importance of tonight and how this had to be done right.

Jonas soon returned to his spot behind the bar, and it was up to him now. Fucking obviously, Darius had a Plan B and goddamn Plan Z, but he’d been up-front with Gray. They were putting most of their eggs in this basket.

Jonas was going to spike enough drinks to put eight men out of commission. Eight men would wake up tomorrow morning feeling like shit. They’d suspect food poisoning and spend more time with their heads in the toilet than keeping watch. It wouldn’t take down the beast, but it would fracture a limb or two.

If Jonas pulled it off, the cocktail of drugs would be distributed between six guards and two buyers. Gray had requested Milo’s and Charlie’s owners, as they seemed particularly nasty.

“Are you actually serious?” Cole breathed out. “Is he here to save you? To save us?”

Gray side-eyed him subtly, only to catch Darius’s look. To answer the silent question, Gray bowed his head and directed his attention to the floor. Yes, it’s been done. The wait was gonna be another type of torture.

“Help us so we can go home,” Gray murmured pleadingly to Cole, never lifting his gaze. “I don’t know if it’s gonna work, but my family did send him. It’s the best chance we’ll get, Cole.”

“Shit.” Cole blew out a breath, suddenly antsy. The fear clung to the air around him. “How can you know?”

“Does it fucking matter at this point?” Gray hissed quietly. “I’m scared too, but I’m not gonna spend my life in captivity. I trust him. And if this doesn’t work, I’ll find a way to kill myself.”

An agonizing, sober thought hit him. If this didn’t work…it meant all had failed and Darius was dead too. Because whether or not they’d manage to escape had nothing to do with the fact that not a bone in Gray’s body believed Darius was a slave trader.

Cole didn’t hesitate as long this time. “I’m in. I’m not sure I can believe it’ll work, but I got nothin’ to lose.”

It was the same for all of them. It was all or nothing, and that thought gave him more pleasure than anything. Gray lifted his head slowly and scanned the faces of the handful of guards who were scattered around the deck. His mind clouded with something akin to sinister elation, fleeting as the feeling was.

The actual escape didn’t matter when it came to the damage he’d inflict, did it? Not really. Because when he thought of it, this was it. He’d get away or die trying, and he couldn’t fucking wait to smash their faces in.

Men who had nothing to lose…was there anything as dangerous and unpredictable?

* * *

Rather than heading for the dungeon after dinner, Gray was ushered back to their stateroom. He could sense something was wrong; Darius was tense, his jaw was set, and his grip on Gray’s arm was tighter than usual.

For once, Gray stayed level. His determination hadn’t faded, and he concentrated on his morbid fantasies of how to make the guards suffer.

As soon as the door was locked behind them, Darius cut straight to it. “We have a problem.”

Gray folded his arms over his chest and pushed past the anxiousness. “What is it?”

“Valerie allowed Linus’s buyer to leave earlier.” Darius loosened his tie in short, impatient tugs, and his jaw ticked. “They’re all about pleasing their esteemed fuckhead guests, so she pulled some strings so he could be taken to another auction.” He threw the tie at the desk before he pinched the bridge of his nose. Gray steeled himself. “He wasn’t alone. Jackie and his buyer were taken to the same auction.”

Gray’s arms fell to his sides. The defeat threatened to pull him under again, and he had to sit down on the edge of the bed and take deep breaths. It’s not the end of the world. When we get free, we can find Jackie. We’ll bring him home too. God, no one would believe that, much less Gray. At the same time, he couldn’t believe it was over. He couldn’t believe Jackie was lost.

He’d barely seen Jackie during this monstrous trip. Darius had mentioned that Jackie’s buyer wasn’t sadistic, that he was “just” a sick, lonely pervert. While there were hundreds of ways to break someone, Gray prayed the lack of violence would help Jackie survive longer. Until they could do something. Because there had to be something.

“Any other shitty news?” he asked dully.

“Unfortunately.” Darius slumped down next to Gray and scrubbed at his face. He’d never looked so tired, and it tugged at Gray. It rattled him too. It wasn’t okay. Darius was a strong motherfucker. Everyone was counting on him. “They left on the yacht’s tender along with three guards. Before dinner, three new guards showed up in another boat. Which means there are three new faces to worry about.”

Gray’s forehead creased. So there’d been…like, a guard change. “Does that mean problems for us? It’s the same number.”

“They’ll be more alert.” Darius planted his elbows on his knees and his chin on his linked knuckles. “They can’t anticipate our moves or needs yet, so they’ll be extra attentive—not to mention trigger-happy. Moreover, I don’t know shit about them. I don’t know whether they’re hotheaded or calculating.”

Okay, that was…problematic. Shit, shit, shit. No, where was the menacing fuck who was itching to plan revenge? Gray needed him back. They had Jonas! Jonas was gonna help out a lot. Cole was standing by too. They weren’t alone. This had to work.

Gray swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair. “Then we gotta come up with something. I can’t afford to crash again. I wanna be useful.” He shifted a little and wrapped his hands around Darius’s bicep. “Tell me what to do, Darius. Things went smoothly with Jonas, and Cole’s in. That’s good news, right?”

Darius didn’t answer, but he seemed to appreciate that Gray didn’t immediately give up like the loser he was. In the meantime, as Darius observed him pensively, Gray clung. Literally and figuratively. He grasped at his resolve, and he held on to Darius’s arm and dropped his forehead to his shoulder.

“Tell me what to do, tell me what to do,” Gray whispered urgently. “I’ll fight with everything I am, I fucking swear. I just want them all to die.”

Darius sighed and surprised Gray, maybe himself too, by pressing a kiss to Gray’s hair. They both went still, and Darius didn’t back off. And it became…okay. It was comforting. It was new territory. For a second, Gray felt like he was more equal. He wasn’t a slave, even a pretend one. He was trying his damnedest to be Darius’s partner so they could get the hell off this boat.

“It may have to come to that, knucklehead,” Darius murmured. “I wanted this quick and easy, but I think we’re shit outta luck on that. Tomorrow’s gonna get messy.”

“I’m ready for it.” Gray eased off the bed and kneeled on the floor. He looked up imploringly, pleadingly. “You can count on me, I promise. I don’t care how messy it gets.”

Darius’s eyes flashed with compassion, and he cupped the back of Gray’s neck. “You’ve never killed anyone, Gray. It does something to you, no matter how much you hate your target.”

Gray didn’t respond, ’cause he’d be a dick to argue. Darius knew what he was doing, and Gray didn’t. Even so, he didn’t think he’d hesitate. Not for a millisecond.

He would have to prove himself.

Darius excused himself to take a quick shower, and it left Gray worried as hell. It also changed the direction of his thoughts. All he knew about Darius was the man he’d been these past couple of days. Strong, unyielding, on top of his game. And now…Gray had to consider what Darius kept to himself.

Gray sighed and got off the floor as the water started running in the bathroom. He hadn’t been fair to Darius. Coming on board this boat to wait stealthily and play a part before getting away with one person was a lot different from orchestrating a rescue operation that involved…Christ, how many? There was Cole, Milo, Lee, Oscar, Charlie, and eight staff members who were kept here against their will. And Gray himself.

They’d lost Linus. Jackie was…who the fuck knew where.

Guilt struck Gray hard. He rubbed at his chest to ease the pressure, but it only got worse when he continued thinking back on the time they’d spent on this boat. He’d made everything Darius’s job. His task to figure things out, his job to save everyone, his responsibility to plan it all. Meanwhile, just an hour on board had the ability to change Gray’s entire view of the world, so he’d become a juvenile headcase whose moods and resolve changed constantly.

He had all the reasons, but he couldn’t let it be his excuse. He had to help Darius. He had to be there for him.

A loud, shattering thump came from the bathroom; it was the sound of something solid breaking, and Gray flew toward the door before he even thought of it. His heart jumped up in his throat as he heard Darius’s low voice.

“Every fucking time…”

Okay, well, no time like the present to start sharing the burden. Gray got nervous, and he fidgeted outside the door before he summoned the courage to knock.

“I’m fine. I’ll be out soon,” Darius muttered in response.

It wasn’t good enough for Gray. The man obviously wasn’t fine. Giving the doorknob a tentative twist, he noticed the door was unlocked, which was both a relief and something that hitched his anxiety. You pussy. You were never afraid before. Gray’s mouth flattened into a thin line, and he opened the door out of sheer stubbornness to prove himself wrong.

He stopped short in the doorway.

Holy fuck.

He hadn’t been prepared on any level. Darius wasn’t in the shower, and there were no fogged-up walls to hide anything. He stood completely naked by the sink, hands gripping the edge of the counter. Face downcast.

The large crack in the mirror and the sight of blood on the floor made Gray’s stomach flip. Darius was the image of breathtaking strength on the brink of collapse. Nobody should be allowed to be that sexy, so fucking stunning, but it was terrifying too. Gray needed Darius to remain strong, and now he could only hope his support would make a difference.

“I’m just waiting for the water to heat up. You can wait outside.”

Gray ignored the lie, manned up, and approached Darius. He eyed the mirror briefly, then gently pried Darius’s fingers from the death grip his injured hand had on the counter.

The cuts weren’t too deep. Three of them graced his knuckles, and Gray brought them under the faucet and turned on the water.

Darius hissed under his breath and flexed his fingers.

“Tell me what you’re the most worried about,” Gray requested quietly. He washed the cuts carefully. “I wanna help. Let me in on the whole plan.”

Darius clenched his jaw and breathed deeply through his nose. He’d straightened a bit but kept his eyes trained on the floor. “I don’t know how to get sixteen people off this boat.”

Sixteen…

Christ. “Only” fifteen more than he’d originally planned. There was no word for how stupid Gray had been. Not to mention ungrateful.

“Jonas and the staff…”

“Ten,” Darius confirmed. “It was his stipulation for helping out, and we can’t blame him for that. I probably would’ve tried to help them anyway.”

Gray’s mind spun, going over what little he knew of the original plan. Or plans, rather. Shutting off the water, he grabbed a fresh towel and cradled Darius’s hand in it. He was careful with the pressure and checked the wounds to see if the bleeding started up again.

No stitches needed, thankfully.

“You said ‘every fucking time’ earlier,” Gray murmured.

Darius lifted his head as if it weighed a ton and offered a tired, self-deprecating smirk. “I tell myself not to give a fuck. Not to get tangled up in attachments and guilt and the urge to do the right thing.”

Gray flicked him a glance, and he could see it. He could see Darius putting up one hell of a front in order to stay practical and calculating. Who could forget Darius’s attitude the morning after Gray’s auction? Darius had only been in it for the money and so on.

“You make it sound like a bad thing to do what’s right.”

“It’s what gets people killed.”

Yikes. Gray didn’t push it. He patted Darius’s knuckles dry and discarded the towel. “Okay, so sixteen people. I guess that means the lifeboat is useless.”

Darius nodded with a dip of his chin. “So is the tender. It ain’t big enough.”

And somehow taking both wouldn’t work either. Unless they split up and Darius found more people he could rely on to lead. And they had to be realistic. Gray, Jonas, and Cole could probably pull their own weight, but when push came to shove, they were dealing with one strong, able-bodied soldier and sixteen scared-shitless punks. Splitting up would create more fear and uncertainty, because guards and other bastards could appear out of nowhere.

The yacht wasn’t small. They couldn’t know exactly when and where the coast was clear. Too many hiding spots—hmm. Gray cocked his head. Why did they have to flee and make themselves the prey? He chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked at Darius.

“Why try to escape unnoticed when we can attack unnoticed?”

Darius straightened further and furrowed his brow.

Gray clarified as the thoughts became clearer. “Instead of running and not knowing who’s chasing us, we could attack them one by one.” The idea grew on him fast. “You have guns and shit stashed around the boat, and there are countless cabins we can lock people inside of.”

He could see the wheels turning in Darius’s head. His eyes narrowed, and his gaze flickered while he studied Gray. Or maybe he was just focusing on Gray’s face while his mind raced to come up with a strategy. That seemed more plausible.

“How much heroin do you have?” Gray wondered. “Can it be used to slow the others down?”

“Hmm. It works fast, but not that fast. We might find use for it, though.” Darius turned around and leaned back against the edge of the counter, seemingly unbothered by his complete lack of cover-up. With the ideas surging and knowing that all hope wasn’t lost, Gray found it just a bit more difficult to concentrate. A bit.

Leaving Darius’s side, Gray crossed the bathroom to first turn off the water in the shower and then to sit down on the toilet lid. Well…fuck. Perhaps distance was no help at all when it put him face-to-crotch with Darius.

The man’s cock was a work of art, that was all. The thick, soft length rested over and down his sac. The area was trimmed but not meticulously. And those thighs… Those balls, that cock, and those thighs. He was uncircumcised like Gray, which he had to admit he preferred. Few things were as sexy as the skin stretching around the shaft as it grew harder and harder, and—what the fuck am I doing?

Gray rolled his eyes at himself and looked away.

“I have to get into their control room,” Darius said pensively. “They run surveillance in all common areas except the hallways, and if we’re gonna be able to sneak up on the security, we need to kill the camera feed.”

Gray cleared his throat and nodded, refocusing. “You need me to create a diversion tonight so you can get some of the guns your brother hid. Do you think it’s possible to create one that’s big enough that it gives you time and an excuse to step out for a few minutes?”

Darius hummed and rubbed his jaw. “It should be, but it would be the act that sets it all off. At that point, there’s no going back. You’ll need to be close to a way to defend yourself, ’cause you’ll most likely need it before I can get back to you.”

Made sense. Once the video cameras were off, it wouldn’t be long before someone noticed.

“Well, I’m jumping Cole and disobeying you,” Gray said. “Even though you don’t need a reason, it’s a solid excuse to give me one hell of a punishment. Make it public, and you’ll have yourself a big audience.” Then all Darius had to do was say he’d forgotten something in their stateroom and that he’d be right back.

Darius wasn’t too sold on that idea, though he didn’t dismiss it. “I’ll think of something. I’d like to avoid hurting you more. That includes us fucking. I think we can avoid it if we play our cards right.”

Gray lifted a shoulder. He didn’t think physical pain could touch him anymore. His whole body had been hurting for three months, and he’d become a pro at breathing through it.

As for the fucking… No, best not to give it a single thought.

Darius pushed away from the counter and nodded at the door. “We’re on to something now, knucklehead. You’re not as stupid as you look.” He smiled crookedly, a hot sight, and Gray snorted. “I’mma take a quick shower now.”

Gray took the hint and stood up. Before tomorrow came around, they had a hellish night in the dungeon to endure, and it was a sobering thought. The suffering was far from over.