“Lady, if you’re listening,” I mutter, though I’ve never been much for prayers, “keep her safe. She’s too damn stubborn to ask for help.”
Roche always said - “never fall for a wild girl boy”.
I should have listened.
Now here we are, in the middle of a tempest, with Gypsy trying to pull away from us, and us gaining on her at the risk of all our lives.
Her ship’s getting bigger on the horizon, and the island behind us? Fading fast. We’re heading straight into open water now, and if the sea decides to take us, well… the odds of making it back to shore aren’t looking too good.
I lick the salt from my lips, the cold spray biting at my skin. In the back of my mind, a little voice—the one that usually knows better—whispers that I’ve got no right dragging these men intothis. Honest men, most of them. Not like me. They’re servants of the coin, not men with wind in their hair and a desire to tame the sea.
But without them, I’ll never reach her.
And let’s not pretend I’m a good man. No, I’m a bastard through and through, willing to risk it all for what I want. And right now? I want Gypsy.
Out of nowhere, a wave rises—massive, towering, and ready to crush her ship like it’s nothing. She’s lifted high, hanging in the air like a damn marionette caught in a hurricane.
I grip the wheel, my knuckles white, and for a moment—a brutal, agonizing moment—I think it’s all over. The storm’s fury, the howling wind, the crashing waves... they all fade, and for a heartbeat, I’m no one. Just a man staring into the abyss, hollowed out by the kind of fear that sinks into your bones. My heart? It isn’t even beating—it’s frozen solid in my chest.
But then, somehow, she pulls through. The ship crashes back down, battered but still afloat. The moment her sails steady, it’s like I can breathe again.
“Keep going!” I roar, my voice tearing through the chaos. “We’re almost there!”
A lie. There’s one last wave between us and them—one last monstrosity to tame. I steer us straight into it, slicing through the water. The ship rises, crests the wave, and crashes down again. And then, despite everything, a grin tugs at the corner of my mouth.
Almost there.
“Prepare the boarding lines!” I shout, the words ripping from my throat.
She’s almost within your grasp. Almost…
The men glance at each other, like they misheard me. Takes them a second to realize I’m dead serious. Ridiculous, right?Walking straight into a death sentence with a grin plastered on my face.
“It’s suicide,” the captain mutters beside me. “We should use the cannons instead! Make them jump into the sea!”
He’s not wrong. But he doesn’t know what I do. Blowing them to hell won’t get me what I need. If it would, I’d be pulling that trigger myself without a second thought. Because… Fuck, just look at this thing. The deck’s a damn mess—rain, spray, everything slick underfoot, and the ship’s thrashing like a beast trying to throw us off. The gap between us and them? It’s a monster in its own right. One second, it’s yawning wide enough to swallow us whole, the next, it’s snapping shut like it’s ready to crush anything in its way. One wrong step, and I’m overboard or smeared between those hulls.
But there’s one wild, reckless girl waiting to be caught by me out there. And if I’m gonna catch her? Fear’s not an option.
“Aye—maybe it is a death sentence,” I mutter under my breath. But let’s face it—I signed up for one the moment Gypsy Flint got her claws into me. I knew it the second I kissed her, the second I felt that spark.
Wherever she goes, I’m dragged right along with her.
The crew’s staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Fair enough”, I let go of the wheel, and the captain practically leaps to take my place.
“You’ll be killed!” someone shouts over the chaos. A grin spreads across my face—can’t help it. They’re not pirates, I swear.
“Care to bet on that, mate?” I holler back, voice steady, even with the nerves twisting in my gut. He’s staring at me like I’m already a ghost. “Fortune favors the bold… or so they say.”
I stride down the stairs, the ship lurching beneath me, nearly sending me overboard before I catch myself on the railing.
“Throw me a line!” I shout. A rope flies toward me, and I tie it around my waist, securing the other end to the mast. It’s flimsy, sure, but I’ve survived worse odds. Hell, I’ve walked away from things that should’ve left me in pieces. This will be no different.
I edge toward the side of the ship, the wind howling like it’s got something to prove, waves crashing against the hull like they’re trying to tear us apart. The schooner’s closing in, but it’s still a stretch. I’ve gotta wait—find that perfect moment when the sea decides to play nice for once, that one heartbeat when it throws us together.
And then, in that blink between one breath and the next, I see her.
Gypsy Flint, dead ahead. It’s like the storm’s slowed down just for her. Everything else fades—the chaos, the waves, the crew scrambling on deck. None of it matters.
