Despite having not gone to bed until after four in the morning, Gray woke up around seven.

He’d shared a bed with Darius for…three nights now. Yet, this felt like the first time. The stateroom’s temperature was cool, almost a little chilly, and Gray pulled the duvet higher and shifted a bit closer to Darius. The man slept on his back, one hand under his head, the other resting on his stomach. The sun had reached his torso. Perhaps that was why he wasn’t cold.

Darius’s hair and scruff glinted in the morning light, and he was so fucking gorgeous. He looked more peaceful than Gray had ever seen, that was for sure.

It was such a different sight from last night. Or earlier this morning, technically. They’d showered after Jonas had been taken back to his quarters, and Darius had been all but dead on his feet coming out of the bathroom. And still, they’d stayed up and talked for-freaking-ever.

Today was going to be insane, and Gray didn’t dare think that he might be free—actually free, in every sense—before the day was over. It was scary as hell, but he was ready to fight. So was Jonas.

“Darius,” Gray whispered. “Darius, are you awake?”

He grunted sleepily and rolled onto his side. “No, Darius is asleep.” He surprised Gray by pulling him flush against his body and drawing the covers over them.

Gray’s breath hitched at the sudden onslaught of joy. Temporary as it was, he hadn’t felt anything remotely close to happiness in months, but this did it. He was wrapped up in solid warmth that made him feel safe and protected.

“You realize we’re cuddling, right?” Gray smiled to himself and scratched lightly at Darius’s chest.

“Mm. Big fan.” He hummed and ducked his head to burrow his face into the crook of Gray’s neck. And that felt…even better. The soft rasp of his whiskers, the warmth of his lips. “Get some sleep, knucklehead.”

“Uh, right…” Gray chuckled breathily and slipped one leg between Darius’s. He cursed their underwear to the fiery pits of hell, too. “Kinda difficult to sleep when I’m in the arms of a man who’s criminally fucking gorgeous.”

Darius grew still, though he didn’t tense up. If anything, the atmosphere was heavy with contentment. Next, he released a sigh and gave Gray’s ear a little bite.

“I gotta admit something,” he murmured drowsily. “You say shit I’ve never heard before.”

“What do you mean?” Gray inched away and smiled curiously. “You can’t tell me no one’s told you you’re hotter than sin before.”

“Not the way you do it,” he chuckled. “I didn’t think last night was going to—fuck, now what?” Their conversation ended abruptly with the phone ringing.

Gray flipped onto his back and scowled at the ceiling while Darius rolled away to get the phone. He hadn’t thought last night was going to what? Gray was gonna stew over this, he could feel it. Just like he did with all men he couldn’t place into neat little categories. Oh God, maybe it was a self-destructive behavior. Did he attract the wrong men? Did he get attracted to the wrong men? History would indicate that. One man in denial, a couple closet cases, one who’d had more issues with his sexuality than Gray could handle.

And how does any of this matter now?

“What do you mean?” Darius spoke into the receiver and felt the need to get out of bed. “Is it contagious?”

Gray switched gears and sat up too. No, his stupid history with men meant absolutely fuck-all. There was a good chance he’d never have such a trivial problem again, so why bother thinking about it. Instead, he focused on Darius and the dreaded day they had ahead of them. Whoever was on the phone must’ve called because of the men getting sick.

“I see.” Darius’s expression turned grim, and he snapped his fingers and nodded for Gray to get up. “That’s good. You can set an extra plate at breakfast for me.” He wrapped up the call, and Gray stood on the other side of the bed, doing his best not to let the nerves get the best of him. “They’re cutting the trip short because they can’t be certain it’s not food poisoning, so this is it. We gotta do this now.”

“Oh God, we’re gonna die.” Gray clutched his stomach and felt his pulse skyrocketing. They weren’t ready, they weren’t ready. They hadn’t gotten any chance to prepare Cole yet, and Jonas was still unarmed. They were supposed to have another few hours to work with!

“We are?” Darius stepped into a new pair of dress pants and lifted a brow at Gray.

“Well, maybe.”

Darius snorted and got busy; the man could go from zero to sixty like a high-end sports car, not to mention how well he could multitask. While he buttoned up a crisp shirt, he also went over his notes that were spread out on the desk.

“You’re ready for this, knucklehead.” He didn’t give Gray any room to argue. “Only two things will change, the time we begin and…this.” He opened a briefcase, the one with a decreasing number of drugs. “It’s human nature to be more alert and irritable when something’s about to change, and today is the last day of vacation for these men. They have their journeys home on their minds, and this is both good and bad. Good because they’re easily distracted, bad because they become harder to entertain.” He pointed at Gray. “I need you to be the comic relief who lowers the pressure.”

It dawned on Gray what this meant, and he nodded hesitantly. “You want me to act like I’m high as a kite.”

“Yes. When we get upstairs for breakfast, I’m going to inject you with a placebo.” Darius reached for the tie hanging over the desk chair. “It’s important you know how heroin hits you. Have you ever taken opioids?”

Whoa, what the fuck? Gray folded his arms and grew defensive. “What do you take me for? I don’t do drugs.”

Darius didn’t try to hide his amusement, though he stayed busy. “You’re a hockey player, though. You get hurt all the time, and opioids are common in pain meds. I’m sure you’re no stranger to Vicodin or oxycodone.”

Oh. Well, no. Maybe he’d been on Vicodin once, after the time he got injured playing field hockey.

“Fine. I was prescribed Vicodin for a few days when I was seventeen. What about it?” Gray tried to unclench and ease the tension in his shoulders.

“I want you to remember the feeling it gave you.” Darius paused what he was doing and gave Gray his full attention. “The pain fading, a calm washing over you. You probably felt sluggish. Maybe you laughed at nothing. Now, magnify that. Heroin takes hold quickly.” He rounded the bed and grasped Gray by the shoulders, leveling him with a serious look. “You can’t stop acting on this one, Gray. You have to keep pretending, no matter what you see and hear.” He tapped Gray’s temple. “It takes about thirty seconds for the drug to reach your brain stem, and once you’re there, you gotta think about everything you do. Slow it all down. Your reactions—everything.”

Gray blew out a breath and scrubbed at his face. You can do this. You can pretend. He did remember that time when he was seventeen, hazy as the memories were. He remembered his brothers having fun at his expense. He remembered the cotton mouth, the drowsiness, and the lazy grins.

“I nodded off and found random stuff funny when I was on those pain meds,” he admitted.

Darius nodded. “Use that. Especially the nodding off. You’ll be distracted by the euphoria in your body and weird thoughts.”

Weird thoughts… Right. Gray raked his teeth over his bottom lip and nodded slowly. He would do his damnedest to pretend he wasn’t bothered by the monsters he shared a table with. He’d slow down his reactions and drift off.

“Think you can sell it?” Darius tipped his head to hold Gray’s gaze. “Think of it as a way to attract these men to watch you in the dungeon. The more you hold their attention, the likelier they are to show up for your punishment.”

That made sense. If they got all ridiculous over seeing a crowbar, they probably had an urge to stay in their staterooms at the risk of a flu going around. But Gray and Darius needed as many as possible to show up in the dungeon after breakfast.

“I can do it,” he said as confidently as he could.

“I know you can.” Darius cupped the back of Gray’s neck and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Try to face the sun. It’ll make your pupils smaller. We don’t really have the time to fake any other outward signs of drug use.”

Good lord, only Darius would think of something like that.

Before they left the stateroom, they freshened up and talked about what to do with Cole. Basically, they would have to make the best of the situation. If Gray came across a moment where he could warn Cole or give any indication of what was gonna happen, he would.

The good thing was that Cole was quick on his feet, and he was ready for anything. Gray felt in his gut he could trust Cole to seize any opportunity.

* * *

Cole wasn’t on the upper deck. Only Lee and Oscar were restrained by the slave posts, and the breakfast table had seen more cheerful days too. The four men who sat there ate in silence, except for Vanya, who tried to make conversation. The blue-eyed psycho kid lit up when Darius took a seat, maybe hoping for a more interesting meal.

“Morning, gentlemen,” Darius greeted.

There was a murmur of greeting in return.

When Gray ended up in the chair next to Darius, the joy in Vanya’s eyes morphed into curiosity.

As per instructions, Gray had to give Darius a reason to inject him, so he slouched in his seat and reached for a muffin without asking.

Darius side-eyed him as he took a sip of coffee.

“You stare a lot,” Gray told him.

It didn’t take more than that to get everyone’s attention.

“I see being lenient yesterday gave you back your voice.” Darius set down his cup and retrieved the syringe from his pocket. “Let’s see how much you’ll add to your punishment now.” He grasped Gray’s wrist and gave his arm a swift tug, and Gray protested as Darius held the needle to his skin. “Stop fighting me, boy.”

“Stop it!” Gray growled.

He winced, feeling the needle piercing his skin. The liquid was injected, and Gray heaved a breath while the others mustered a few chuckles.

Vanya clapped. “Punishments are so much fun! Is there any chance you can do a public one, Mr. B? It saddens me that a few of our passengers are sick, and I think watching you with your toy would brighten everyone’s mood.”

Gray slumped back and feigned a violent body shudder. As Darius confirmed he had plans for Gray in the dungeon after breakfast, Gray turned his concentration on himself and went through the steps in order to look like he’d been injected with heroin.

The muffin fell from his hand, and he shook his head sluggishly. The most difficult part was the smile. Having to smile and act like he didn’t have a care in the world broke his heart.

“I’ll definitely stop by,” one buyer said. He was the owner of Oscar and Lee, and Gray found it easier to grin when he thought of what he could do to the shithead. “My fuck-dogs spent the night in hysterics. I could barely sleep.”

Motherfu—!

Gray took a deep breath and looked over at Oscar and Lee where they kneeled. Beaten-up, stoic, defeated. Then he smiled, and he faced their monster of a buyer.

“You…you deserve to die,” he said, only to let out a chuckle. “My tongue feels weird.”

“Oh my.” Vanya’s gaze flickered with interest between Darius and Gray. Waiting for a reaction.

“You too,” Gray told Vanya. He pointed unsteadily at the guy, remembering all the times he’d been drunk. How invincible he’d felt. “I wanna cut you open.” He grinned lazily and planted his elbows on the table, his chin landing between his open palms. “You’re such a deranged little shit. A psychopath. Are…are you even human?” He pressed on when he caught a glimpse of anger in Vanya’s eyes. “Half human, maybe?” Gray snickered wildly and drummed his fingers along his cheeks. “I think your mom fucked a badger or something. And got preg-pregnant with you.”

“Well.” Darius wiped his mouth on a napkin, his interference allowing Vanya to relax. “You just earned yourself a ride on the mechanical bull, pet. And you know what?”

“What?” Gray smirked and rolled his eyes.

Darius nodded at the others. “They will decide when you’re done.”

Suffice to say, no one at the table was going to miss out on this.

* * *

“I hate that I have to put you through this.”

“It was my choice.” Gray bit off another strip of duct tape to attach the second knife around his calf. “None of the other implements in the dungeon would create a diversion as big as the bull, and you know it.”

“I could’ve thought of something.”

“No time for that now.” Gray stood up from the bed and accepted the pair of loose sweatpants he’d wear. “I can handle pain.” In fact, holding a pair of sweats gave him a more visceral reaction. He hadn’t worn real clothes in months, and the soft fabric felt almost…luxurious. A part of him that’d been so dehumanized wondered if he was worthy.

“It’s going to be a lot of pain, Gray,” Darius pointed out patiently. “The spike mat will rip open your skin.”

Gray tore his gaze from the black pants and stepped into them. “I can guarantee you I’ve been through worse.” That didn’t mean he wasn’t glad Darius had advised him to protect his junk underneath the tight boxers. Hopefully, a thick sock wrapped around his dick would shield him in case he landed wrong.

Perhaps Darius could tell there was nothing to discuss. He nodded once and let it go. It was all business after that. They’d chosen the bathroom for their gun stash, because it wasn’t the first place one’s eyes landed when entering the suite, and it was in there Darius lined up their weapons. Gray stood in the doorway and eyed the counter as Darius checked the magazines to the three guns. If the cotton of the sweatpants didn’t rub his skin so weirdly, Gray would’ve appreciated the moment more. Darius was a badass vision in a suit.

“Remember how to use it?” he murmured, attaching the magazine to one of the guns. “Only close range, count your bullets—”

“—and try not to waste them. I remember.” Gray had been given a crash course in how to aim and fire one. The Glocks each had seventeen bullets, and Gray hoped with everything he was that he wouldn’t miss too much.

He’d been instructed to lift the gun off of any guard he managed to take down, but he wasn’t assertive enough to think that far ahead. He knew the plan, he knew his cues; aside from that, he was going to take it one step at a time.

“Good. Did you tape your hands?” Darius asked.

“Oh. No. I’ll do it now.” Gray pushed away from the doorframe and picked up the roll of duct tape again. Aside from having two blades taped to his right calf, he had the thin wire tucked into one of his pockets. In a battle between a neck and a couple fingers, the fingers would be severed. So he was wrapping the sturdy tape around his knuckles in order to use the wire in a fight.

The fight, he was ready for. Fuck, there was no word strong enough to describe how much rage and hatred he was ready to unleash on these murderers. The only thing that caused anxiety to prey on him from some dark corner of his mind was that people—innocent guys—could get hurt. Or worse.

With a big yacht like this, it was gonna be impossible to maintain the element of surprise for very long.

“When’s Jonas joining us?” he asked.

“When you’re down for the count, I’ll go get him,” Darius replied and exited the bathroom. “You’ll be given a warning—loud enough for the others to hear. That by the time I come back with Jonas, you have to be seated on the machine again.”

Gray nodded in understanding, though he was less chill on the inside now. This was really it. People were gonna die. Gray would likely be responsible for another person’s death—or several. And he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel bad about it. What if he couldn’t—no. He could. End of fucking story.

Darius checked his watch. “All right, I think we’ve stalled enough. With a small dose, you’d be starting to come off the H now, so you can be a bit more lucid. And depressed.”

Gray could do depressed. No problem.

After Darius had checked Gray’s taped-up knuckles and once again reminded him to be careful and stay close once shit hit the fan, there was nothing to do but walk out of the stateroom one last time.