I twisted the silver ring on my finger. I told myself it was the right choice. That Icouldtrust him. Trust the man I loved.
But it wouldn’t be the last time I lied to myself for Eric Cunningham.
The next two months passed in a haze of false cargo manifests and secret meetings. Eric grew increasingly distant, spending hours locked in his quarters with mysterious visitors. I kept mysuspicions to myself, quietly documenting discrepancies while maintaining the charade of the dutiful first officer.
I still shared his bed, still wore his ring—and that was the cruelest part. Despite everything, a part of me still loved him. There were moments when the old Eric would resurface. When we’d sky-drop together beneath the stars, his laughter was genuine as we spun through the air. When he’d trace patterns on my skin in the darkness, whispering plans for a future I increasingly doubted.
But while I played the devoted lover, I was building my case. A journal hidden beneath my bunk documented everything: cargo that disappeared; mysterious payments; names of contacts who boarded without authorization; coordinates of meetings that appeared in no logs. Small pieces of a puzzle I knew formed a damning picture.
Then, one morning during a briefing, Eric announced, “We’re to rendezvous with a merchant vessel near the Crimson Isles. A special assignment from the very top.”
I frowned. “The Crimson Isles? That’s well outside our patrol route.”
“Nevertheless, those are our orders.” Eric’s tone left no room for argument. “Plot a course, Lieutenant Commander. We depart immediately.”
Something felt wrong.
That night, Eric joined me at the railing, his shoulder brushing mine as we gazed at the stars.
“Beautiful night,” he said softly.
I nodded, twisting the silver ring on my finger. “I wish things hadn’t changed,” I whispered, just to see if he’d deny anything had.
“Change can be good, Max. Sometimes we need to leave the familiar behind to find our true path.”
“Is that what we’re doing? Finding a new path?”
He turned to me, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. “I’ve made choices, Max. Difficult ones. I hope someday you’ll understand why.”
Before I could question him further, he squeezed my shoulder and walked away, leaving me with a sense of foreboding.
The next morning, I watched the dawn break over the Crimson Isles, painting the sky blood-red. I stood on the bridge, scanning the horizon. The islands loomed ahead, jagged teeth against the scarlet sky.
“Any sign of our rendezvous vessel?” Eric asked, joining me.
“Nothing yet, sir.”
“Keep looking. They should be approaching from the south.”
Minutes later, the lookout’s cry pierced the morning stillness. “Ship approaching! Port side!”
I studied the horizon. A vessel emerged from the morning mist, its silhouette becoming clearer. My blood ran cold as I took in the dreadnought—sleek, predatory, gun ports open. The distinctive ruby figurehead of a snarling wolf was unmistakable—the infamous symbol of Captain Rayna Vex’sWindcutter, the terror of the eastern trade routes, second in notoriety only toThe Black Wraith.
Not a merchant vessel. A pirate ship.
“Captain,” I said, lowering the glass slowly. “That’s not our contact. That’s the pirate shipWindcutter.”
Eric didn’t seem surprised. He simply nodded, eyes fixed on the approaching ship. “Sound general quarters. Prepare for engagement.”
The alarm bell rang throughThe Valiant, sending the crew scrambling to battle stations.
“They’re not slowing down,” I warned as the distance between our vessels decreased. “Captain, what are your orders?”
Eric ignored me. The pirate ship pulled alongside us, close enough that I could see figures moving on its deck. A woman stood at the bow—tall, imposing, with a gray fur coat and a face scarred by battle.
“Captain Vex,” Eric murmured.
I stared at him. “You… know her?”
