Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(38)

“I’d almost say I’m proud of you, Silverfish,” the man drawled. “Never thought a girl who whined at a coupla lashings could dole it out herself.”

Amaya gritted her teeth as she felt the echo of his belt on her back, raising welts on her skin. She tightened the rope around his wrists and was satisfied with his grunt of discomfort. Then, pistol still in hand, she began to rummage around his office.

“These people you know who can find out where Roach is. Who are they?” she asked as she checked the cabinet. “Where can I find them?”

Zharo gave a single bark of laughter. “You think I’m dumb enough to let you walk outta here with that information? Why don’tcha untie me first and we’ll make a deal.”

“I’m not making a deal with you.” Amaya looked through the cabinet’s contents and found multiple ledgers that Zharo had kept on board the Brackish, documenting debts. She briefly flipped through them, glowering as the numbers went higher instead of lower.

“Only a few months on land and look at how rebellious it’s made you,” Zharo mumbled. “You were better off scrubbin’ decks and shying away from my hand.”

Amaya didn’t respond. She told herself it was because she had risen above his threats, that she could handle his taunts. In reality, her mind went pure white with rage, so strong and bright that the only way to control it was to sit perfectly still until it faded. Breathing deeply, she shut the cabinet door and turned to his desk next, opening drawers and pulling out files. Zharo frowned at her, nonplussed by her silence, no doubt expecting her to have risen to his bait.

Silverfish would have. Amaya had bigger worries. She looked through invoices and receipts of the things he had bought within the last six months, including a document detailing the sale of the Brackish to a nameless buyer. Boon. Still, she saw nothing that would be of help to her.

“I still remember the day you were dropped off at the docks,” Zharo went on. “Miserable, skinny thing that you were. All elbows and teeth and those big, hauntin’ eyes.”

Amaya ignored him, feeling around the drawers for secret compartments. She found one and popped it open, revealing another ledger underneath the false bottom.

“Wasn’t even expecting a shipment that day, but there was a special seller who said it was a rush case. Guess your folks must’ve gotten on the wrong side of the wrong man. But then when I saw you, I knew you weren’t nothin’ special—another family lookin’ to throw a hungry mouth away. Happens more often than you’d think, parents getting sick of their brats and doin’ anything to get rid of ’em.”

Amaya’s hands tightened around the ledger, but she kept her face blank. Zharo’s words poked and prodded at the soreness around her heart, the unanswered questions that dogged her day and night: Who had sold her, and why? What were the debts attributed to her father that her sale would have paid off?

But there had never been any indication that her father had raked in debts, or gambled. He’d always had enough money to feed her and her mother, and even to buy her a small present every month if she had behaved well.

The people around her—Boon, Zharo—didn’t know the full truth either, and that was the whole point of why she was doing this. She would clear her father’s name and restore her family’s dignity.

But first, she had to restore her own dignity.

She flipped through the pages of the ledger until she came across some familiar names. Looking closer, she tried to decipher the numbers underneath them, as well as the names she didn’t know.

Fredrique G. (Scarab)—4,500 senas, A. Zhang

Yaomin X. (Mantis)—3,000 senas, J. Vedasto

Fera B. (Beetle)—2,000 senas, C. Melchor

Amaya’s stomach churned. Scarab had been the Water Bug who had given her the tattoo on her wrist. Mantis had fallen and died aboard the Brackish. And Beetle…

Zharo kept talking, but she paid him no attention. The price next to their names was undoubtedly the price paid for taking on these Bugs, and the names next to them had to belong to debt collectors. She scanned the rest of the ledger for her own name, but it wasn’t listed. Just dozens upon dozens of children with prices affixed to their names. As if they were mere objects instead of living, breathing people.

Her heart pounding under the swell of her anger, she ripped out the page with Fera’s name and stuffed it into her pocket. She wasn’t sure yet what she would do with the information, but she knew it couldn’t hurt.

Amaya stood and walked around the desk. She met Zharo’s gaze and held it.

“I’m going to give you one last chance,” she said, leveling the pistol at his head, “to tell me how to find Roach.”

But Zharo only grinned, and she didn’t know why until he launched himself from the chair and slammed into her.

She fell with his weight on top of her, crushing the air from her lungs. The stink of sweat and alcohol filled her nose as he reached for the pistol—he must have been loosening the rope while he spoke to her, to cover up the sounds of his rustling—and Amaya gagged as she twisted futilely under him.

She had had endless nightmares of being helpless and in his grasp. Her lungs tightened and her breathing stuttered, the same terror that took hold of her when she dreamed of being unable to run, unable to fight back.

But now she knew how to fight back.