I suck in a desperate breath and plunge back into the icy depths, my lungs already burning from the exertion. The water engulfs me, its inky darkness pressing in from all sides, disorienting and terrifying. I force my eyes open, ignoring the sting of the salt, and swim frantically toward the cell door.
My numb fingers fumble with the keys, the metal slippery and elusive in my grasp. I want to scream in frustration, but I can't afford to waste what little air I have left. Every second counts, and I feel my strength ebbing away with each passing moment.
Finally, by some miracle, I manage to slide the key into the lock. I twist it with all my might, my muscles straining against the water's resistance. For one heart-stopping moment, I fear it won't turn, that I'll be trapped here, doomed to a watery grave. But then, with a click that reverberates through my bones, the lock gives way.
I shove against the door, desperation fueling my efforts. But it's like trying to move a mountain, the water's pressure holding it firmly in place. My lungs are on fire now, screaming for air, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision. I can't give up now, not when I'm so close.
With a final, furious burst of strength, I wrench the door open just enough to squeeze through. I kick off the floor, propelling myself upward, my arms and legs pumping with the last of my energy. The surface seems impossibly far away, a shimmering mirage I can never quite reach.
But I refuse to surrender, refuse to let this be my end. I claw through the water, every fiber of my being focused on that precious pocket of air above me. Just a little further, just a few more strokes...
I break the surface with a gasping, spluttering cry, my starved lungs greedily sucking in the damp, musty air of the flooding hold. I cling to the edge of the cell, my body shaking uncontrollably from cold and exhaustion. But I'm alive, and that's all that matters.
The pirate grabs my arm, his grip like a vice, hauling me through the opening. "Come on, lass, we're not out of this yet!"
I can only nod, too spent to speak, and let him drag me forward into the churning waters. The fight isn't over, not by a long shot. But I'll be damned if I let this storm, or these pirates, be the end of me.
Together, we fight through the flooded corridor, the water churning around us like an angry beast. My muscles burn with exhaustion, and my body is heavy as lead. But the pirate's iron grip keeps me moving, keeps me fighting.
Finally, we reach the stairs leading to the upper deck. I cling to the railing, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I haul myself up, step by agonizing step. The storm rages above us, the wind howling like a vengeful spirit. But even as the rain lashes my face and the ship pitches beneath my feet, I've never been so grateful to feel the sting of the elements.
We burst onto the deck, the pirate's arm still locked around me. I collapse against him, shivering and spent, my energy utterly drained. But I'm alive. Against all odds, I'm still breathing.
And now, I have to find a way to keep it that way.
The pirate slams the steel hatch shut, the clang reverberating through the storm-tossed ship. "Up ye go, lass," he grunts, his rough hand clamping around my arm as he hauls me to my feet.
I stagger, my legs barely cooperating after the ordeal. The deck pitches beneath me, and I nearly faceplant right there, but I'll be damned if I let these pirates see me as some swooning damsel. I grit my teeth and force myself to take in my surroundings.
Pirates swarm the deck like ants, their shouts barely audible over the howling wind and crashing waves. They scurry up rigging and haul on ropes, desperately trying to keep the massive ship from capsizing. And massive it is—this behemoth makes a regular Galleon look like a bathtub toy.
"Oh, fantastic," I mutter under my breath. "I've been kidnapped by thecompensatingpirates."
My sarcasm is short-lived, though, as the ship pitches forward violently. I go flying, slamming into a stack of barrels with a bone-jarring thud. Pain explodes through my shoulder, white-hot and searing. I barely have time to catch my breath before a monstrous wave crests over the ship's side, drenching me in icy seawater and ripping me away from my precarious perch.
I tumble across the deck, scrabbling for purchase on the slick boards. My fingers find a rope lashed to the ship's wall, and I cling to it like a lifeline, the rough fibersbiting into my palms. The storm rages around me, the wind a thousand icy knives slicing at my skin. Salt spray stings my eyes, blurring my vision.
"Come on!" The pirate appears through the chaos, his hand outstretched.
I hesitate for a split second, instinct warring with the need to survive. But another wave slams into the ship, the deck bucking like an enraged beast, and I know I don't have a choice.
I lunge for his hand, my fingers locking around his wrist. He hauls me up, and then we're running, slipping and sliding across the treacherous deck. I glimpse at an ornate door looming ahead, the wood dark and heavy—the Captain's quarters.
But even as we stumble toward that promise of safety, I can't shake the feeling that I'm leaping from the frying pan straight into the fire. These pirates may have saved me from drowning, but something tells me they're not the type to do favors for free.
We burst through the door into the Captain's quarters, the pirate slamming it shut behind us with a resounding bang. The sudden absence of wind and rain is almost deafening, the muffled sounds of the raging storm now a distant roar.
I stagger forward, my legs finally giving out as I collapse onto a nearby sofa. The plush velvet feels almost obscene against my salt-stiffened clothes, but I'm too exhausted to care. I focus on catching my breath, on slowing the frantic pounding of my heart.
The pirate looms over me, his dark eyes unreadable in the flickering lamplight. "You will stay here until the Cap'n can speak with you."
I nod, too drained to argue. But as he turns to leave, a sudden surge of gratitude pushes past my fatigue. "Thank you..." I rasp out, my tongue thick and clumsy with salt and dehydration.
He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, and looks back at me. Surprise flickers across his face as if he's not used to hearing those words.
"What is your name?" I ask, the question tumbling out before I can stop it.
A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Finn," he says after a moment. "Finn Blackwell."
