06 | goodbye deadwood

"A torturer lacks an important skill. Sure, he is the master at torture and even manipulation, but his lack of remorse is what leaves him vulnerable when the strong trick him into believing that they are weak."

— Forbidden Fruits

CHAPTER SIX

»»☆««

Marinette wasn't awoken by the sound of birds chirping or the warm gleam of the sun's rays kissing her skin the following morning. Instead, satin sheets were ripped mercilessly off of her body without warning, leaving her skin pricked with chills underneath the desert night sky.

Frightened, Marinette scrambled to sit up, her eyes struggling to adjust from sleep, only to be greeted with an unknown figure looming over her.

"Rise and shine, sleepin' beauty!"

It was too dark to make out any features, but Marinette could recognize that scratchy voice anywhere. It belonged to the only other woman (besides herself) who was stuck with these men. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness once more, she could see the woman's devilish grin, as if her intentions were to overall make Marinette's life miserable. Marinette frowned at her.

Weren't women supposed to overall stick together?

The woman stepped back, cackling as she turned, leaving Marinette to sink further and further into the full-sized mattress. Marinette threw her head back into her pillow and groaned, casting an arm over her eyes. She had really hoped that being kidnapped by Chat Noir while also being trapped in an abandoned inn with him and all of his followers had been a dreadful dream.

But no, of course it wasn't a dream. It was real.

The moon was still high in the sky, which led her to believe that hours still remained until sunrise. Marinette slowly sat up once more and yawned behind a closed fist as her eyes surveyed the ruckus of the room confusingly, watching as men paced back and forth attending to the tasks they were given. In the center of the room, a small table had been dragged out from the corner of the room, and surrounding it were Chat Noir and several others. A lantern was placed in the center of the table, illuminating the hand-written map the men were studying.

Marinette briefly glanced over at the window, finding the wooden chair in which Chat Noir had been sitting the previous night empty.

With the light, hushed chatter traveled throughout the room, and Chat Noir's words molded with the murmurs. She simply watched as his lips moved and he pointed at something on the map, his gaze then moving between his fellow allies as if he were seeking their opinion.

One of the other men pointed at a different spot on the map, his finger rather close to Chat Noir's original proposition. The two men exchanged a conversation she couldn't make out, and then she watched as Chat Noir grinned. He clasped the man on the shoulder, nodding in what seemed to be agreement.

Marinette didn't understand what was going on, but she did wonder one thing.

Why was she woken up in the middle of the night?

She stood from the bed on shaking legs, sheets wrapped around her lithe figure. It was cold in the room, no fireplace lit to provide any warmth to chase away the winter nights that the desert provided. She moved towards where she felt the safest, even if it was just as dangerous—towards the center of the room.

Towards Chat Noir.

As if sensing her presence, Chat Noir turned his head in her direction. His eyes seemed to light up at the sight of her. "Good mornin', milady."

"It's the middle of the night." Her tone was deadpan, and she was in no mood to even acknowledge the nickname he'd dubbed her with. Her eyes were narrowed at him, annoyingly so. "Why was I woken up in the middle of the night?"

"I see you are not a mornin' person." He chuckled amusingly and quickly turned his attention back on the map. With a nod of his head, the silent gesture was all that was needed for the surrounding men to understand that their meeting was concluded. They hastily began rolling up the map, much too quickly for her to even consider stealing a glance at it.

The infamous bandit turned back around to face her a moment later, his smile genuine. "We need to leave before the sun rises, that is why you were woken up."

"In the middle of the night?"

"It's five-fifteen." His eyes twinkled in amusement. "The sun rises in forty-five minutes."

Her frown only deepened. She hated the fact that he was always usually right, and therefore made her look like an absolute idiot. The worst part of it all was that he found it amusing—that he enjoyed teasing her.

She chose to restrain from making a snarky comeback. Instead, she asked, "Where are we going?"

"East." He answered instantly. He was still smiling, but he made no interest to elaborate.

"Anywhere specific in the east?" She decided to prod.

"Of course."

"Do you intend to tell me?"

"Absolutely not."

She stomped her foot in annoyance, grumbling out an irritated, "Why not?"

"'Cause you needn't worry your pretty little head 'bout it." He moved to walk past her with the widest grin she'd ever seen him wear thus far. The sight only amplified her annoyance, and with it, her feet followed after him.

"I have every right to know where we are headed just like everyone else here!"

"Is that right?" His back was turned towards her, but she could easily hear the amusement that lingered behind his every word. He addressed several men as he moved around the room, each who required their leader's assistance in some way, all the while bantering with her. He was a rather talented multitasker, she'd give him that. "And what makes you think you are in any position to make such a ludicrous statement?"

Marinette opened her mouth to argue, but he spoke again before she could get any words out.

"You needn't forget that you are not my equal here." He said as he turned to look over his shoulder, arching a brow at her. His smile had faltered ever-so-slightly, revealing seriousness that loomed behind his ease. The sight of just how quickly his emotions could switch caused her to pause in her step. He continued walking though, his posture as confident as ever. "You ought to remember that when you are speakin' to me."

She found herself suddenly chilled to the bone. Chat Noir's emotions switched unexpectedly and beyond her comprehension. One minute he seemed friendly enough to tolerate, and the next he was once again reminding her that he was superior to her.

A fit of snickers erupted from behind her. Her head whipped around on its own accord, only to find that obnoxious woman once again, mocking her.

Marinette frowned deeply at her. What was her problem?

"It's time to leave." Chat Noir announced to the room. The men immediately moved upon the command. Their leader surveyed their progress, almost as if he were monitoring them. When he deemed it acceptable, he turned to Marinette once more, and his original smile returned. "Stick out your hands, milady."

Her expression remained neutral as she grudgingly did what she was told. Chat Noir hastily moved to tie her wrists together with rope, this time leaving her a bit of room for her wrists to breathe and not chaff against the itchy rope. His eyes silently met hers for a brief second, almost as if he were conveying an apology through his gaze for the inconvenience. Marinette chose to avert her gaze, ignoring what she deemed to be an insincere gesture of his.

Chat Noir was many things, for sure, and a liar was a worthy name to add to that list.

"Kit!" Chat Noir suddenly called. Marinette's head whipped up, the name unfamiliar to her. Out of the dimly lit corner of the bedroom strode in the only other woman amongst them, hidden beneath a dark hood that obscured her features. When she emerged, she removed her hood, revealing a young woman with blonde hair identical to Chat Noir's. She was grinning, mischievously, might she add. There was nothing friendly in the gaze she offered.

"Yes, Chat Noir?"

The look he offered her in return was definitely unamused. "The mayor's daughter shall ride with you."

Marinette's eyes widened fearfully at that, and she wanted to interject, to tell him that she was willing to ride with anyone but this woman, but Chat Noir left no room for further discussion.

"And the rest of you!" He addressed the rest of the room. "Will not interfere with the lady's care, understood?"

"Aye, sir!" They all chorused in unison.

Marinette shrunk into herself. Chat Noir continued on, not even sparing her a glance. With nervous eyes, Marinette found her gaze wandering over to the woman whom he called Kit, and the smirk that she had to offer her only sent more unpleasant shivers down her spine.

She was doomed. Oh, she was so doomed.

»»☆««

They rode out into the darkness of early morning, not even leaving a clue of their trail behind them. There were over a dozen hoofs thudding along dirt like an earthquake itself, unbeknownst to the townspeople who slept warmly in their homes. Marinette watched with a longing gaze as Deadwood grew smaller and smaller the farther they rode out, and with it, the Manor that had been her only sense of home. She thought about her brothers and her father, wondering if they were all peacefully asleep, drunk on their hangovers, without a care in the world of her well-being. She thought about how they might react to finding her bed empty, how they might proceed once they realized she was missing.

A part of her wondered what extent her father would go to in order to get her back—if he would even bother, for that matter.

Amongst the chilly wind, Kit's mirthless chuckle echoed like a whisper of spirits from above. "Ya can forget 'bout ever seein' your palace again atop that hell-hole, princess."

Marinette chose not to respond to that. In truth, she wouldn't miss the Manor, but she sure would miss the fond memories made inside it. Perhaps that was a natural thing to feel when leaving what was considered home.

But did she ever truly feel at home there?

Truthfully, Marinette wasn't sure whether to be sad or grateful.

A part of her was relieved, really, knowing that as long as she was gone, her father would no longer have control over her. A part of her had always dreamed of one day leaving Deadwood, of traveling the world and seeing new sights. She had always believed that would've been her ticket to freedom. Except now, she was technically traveling like she had always wanted... but without the freedom she believed would come with it. In fact, instead of the bliss she thought this day would eventually bring, she only felt as if she had simply traded one prison for another.

And her brothers. She loved her brothers. If she were never to return to Deadwood, she would never get to see her brothers again. She would never get to tell them goodbye. She would never get to bid Alya farewell like she had promised.

Marinette hung her head, suddenly feeling empty and exhausted.

Her tied wrists hung tightly onto the back of the horse's saddle as they rode. After all, Marinette had no intention of clinging onto her adversary for stability, no matter how rough Kit chose to guide her horse. By the time the sun had begun to peek over the desert mountains, Deadwood had long been out of her sight. They rode through endless desert fields now, country that looked entirely unfamiliar to her, but Chat Noir guided his men through it as if the land was written on his palm. It was almost as if he had memorized every tree, every creek, and every rock in his sights.

The seemingly endless country stretched out as far as the eye could see, leaving the mind to wonder just how far one could travel across it, or when it would end. As the sun fully lit the land, Marinette found herself indulging in her curiosity, wondering what exactly she would see on this journey.

She even found herself feeling somewhat excited to see anything new that didn't resemble the isolated town she'd grown up in, even despite her predicament.

After what seemed like hours of riding, Chat Noir finally ordered a rest. She could tell amongst the grins his men wore that they were relieved by the news. They stopped to rest and refuel beside a freshwater river. Their horses dipped into a slight ravine as they drew nearer to the water. That along with the tall pines that lined a bit of way from the banks would keep all the men and their horses well hidden from possible wandering strangers across the higher country. Everyone dismounted, allowing even the horses to drink from the river. However, when Marinette wished to dismount, Kit didn't help her with an outstretched hand.

Instead, with little patience, the woman grabbed her by her tied ropes and tugged her so hard Marinette fell over the horse and face-first into the dirt.

Kit's bubbles of laughter that followed were that of mockery. Marinette was deeply embarrassed... and in pain. In truth, she didn't understand why she was being treated like this, especially by another woman. She expected this type of cruelty from any of these men, or even from Chat Noir himself, but a woman? She couldn't fathom why the woman loathed her the most.

Marinette winced as she slowly lifted her face from pebbled dirt. She licked her lips as a force of habit, only for a metallic taste to overwhelm her taste buds. She was bleeding.

"Oops, sorry 'bout that." Kit's apology was anything but sincere. If anything, even her attempted apology mocked her. The prominent smirk on her lips was enough proof of that. She offered her hand, which Marinette was hesitant to take at first, but nonetheless, she shakily reached out for the young woman's hand, and much to her surprise, Kit actually helped her up.

Only to shove her from behind in the direction of the river, which caused Marinette to stumble forward and almost lose her balance.

"Get'a movin', princess."

Marinette suppressed rolling her eyes, only because if Kit saw it, there was a good chance her face would be seeing the dirt again. She forced herself to inhale deeply through her nose in an attempt to calm her irritation. Between Chat Noir and this woman, they had a dreadful habit of dubbing people with annoying nicknames.

Wordlessly, Marinette stumbled towards the river, mindful that a small knife was being pressed against the small of her back as Kit loomed close behind her.

As they entered a clearing, Marinette was relieved to see the river flowing abundantly. Several of the men had submerged themselves fully into the water, whether to cool off or to bathe, and some chose to remain on the banks. She noticed right away that Chat Noir was one of the ones who had chosen to linger on the riverbank.

As if he could sense her gaze, his head instantly turned in her direction. When their eyes locked, Chat Noir didn't offer her the smile she'd become rather accustomed to anticipating. Instead, he simply watched her with an unreadable expression, something she couldn't decipher even if she were to try. His forehead was crinkled slightly, revealing the intensity of his gaze. She chose to avert her eyes rather quickly, lest she get knocked over by Kit for staring at their leader.

"Ya get five minutes," Kit said as she split the rope with her knife. Marinette instantly rubbed at her wrists, sighing in relief. The glare residing in the pit of Kit's pupils resembled she'd rather keep her wrists tied. "Don't'cha even think 'bout runnin'."

Marinette found herself scoffing at that—and perhaps she would end up regretting it. "You must think me a fool if you think I would try attempting such. I'm not faster than a horse."

She headed for the river without waiting for Kit's reply, but she was almost certain if looks could kill, she would have been dead on the spot.

Marinette removed her shoes and socks as soon as she reached the riverbank. Her clothes remained on, and she had no worry about whether or not she got them wet. Instead, a sigh of relief escaped her lips when the river's shore hit her bare feet. The water was cold, of course, but it felt wonderful against her sunburnt skin. Marinette knelt in the water and instantly dipped her wrists next, closing her eyes in bliss when the coldness embedded her sore skin.

Little did she know that a short foot away, an emerald pair of eyes closely watched her every move. Some would say he looked nonchalant as he watched the woman he'd taken. Others would say a hint of concern and rage swirled in his irises as he watched the woman he was deeply in love with try to melt away her pain with the chillness of nature's gift to man.

His eyes flickered briefly to his sister, who was watching Marinette's pain in amusement.

The sight disgusted him in ways that could never be described. The infamous bandit was known to be many things. A thief, definitely. A murderer, when need be. He was even known to be a menace to many, and he could admit that as the truth. But a torturer he was not, a torturer he would never be, and the act of torture he would never endorse.

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Your girl is exhausted, but I am here.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

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