It’s just her.
She’s standing at the helm like she’s got nothing left to lose, hair whipping wild in the wind, soaked to the bone but unbreakable. Steering that ship like it’s part of her, like the storm bends to her will, not the other way around. She’s a force of nature, fierce and untouchable, the kind of sight that makes a man forget his own name for a second.
I’m caught. Can’t even pretend I’m not.
Our eyes lock, and for a split second, it’s like she actually sees me—like really sees me, not just the fool who’s always chasing death. She shouts something to the scrawny guy on deck—must be the prisoner—and before my brain can even remind me this is a deadly idea, the schooner lifts on a wave and levels with us.
This is it. My shot. Damn the consequences.
“Now!” I shout, pushing off and launching myself into the gap. The wind slams against me, rain stinging like needles, but I’m already reaching for the railing. For her.
My fingers grip the slick wood, and for a breathless second, I hang there, suspended between the storm and the sea. Then I’m over the rail, hitting the deck hard, heart hammering, blood pounding in my ears.
I made it. I fucking made it…
I rip the rope from my waist and signal to the crew, “Stay back!” But I don’t care about them. They’re already gone from my mind.
I start toward her, closing the distance step by step, ready to rush the rest of the way—when her voice cuts through the storm.
“Get off my ship, you bastard!” she yells, cold as ice. “Bard, fight him! It’s a fucking order!”
You must be kidding me.
I stop dead in my tracks, the cold biting into me as water drips from my clothes. Did she seriously just—? No. No way. Did she seriously just call on somebardto fight me? She can’t be serious.
I blink through the salt stinging my eyes, and there he is—pale, trembling, standing between me and her like some makeshift wall that could collapse any second.
The prisoner. The one with a bounty big enough to make anyone think twice about crossing him. He’s... abard? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“Don’t you take another step, Mister!” the scrawny bastard shouts, his voice shaking but somehow still standing. “I won’t let you!”
A laugh builds in my chest, and if we weren’t on the edge of hell, I’d let it out. This guy? This pathetic, shivering wreck thinks he can stand in my way? I sailed through a goddamn storm for this woman.
I step forward, letting the growl rumble from deep in my throat. “Move,” I say, hand drifting to the hilt of my dagger.
His eyes go wide, flicking from me to Gypsy, back and forth like he’s trying to figure out how this ends without him gettinggutted. His voice wobbles, but he puffs his chest out anyway, like it’ll make a difference.
“I don’t want to fight you,” he says, an accent I don’t recognize thick in his voice. “But I will if I must.”
I can’t help it—my lips twitch into a smirk. Always does in moments like this.
“This isn’t about you, bard. Stand down, and maybe you’ll live long enough to write a ballad about it.”
But before I can take a step, a wave slams into the deck, nearly knocking me off my feet. The ship lurches like a beast fighting its chains, wind howling like it’s got a vendetta. A barrel breaks loose, hurtling across the deck, crashing toward me with enough force to crack bone.
“Shit!” I twist just in time, the barrel slamming into the railing instead. Splinters explode into the air, one slicing across my cheek. I wipe the blood away, saltwater stinging, but my eyes stay locked on him.
And of course, the bastard’s grinning like he’s already won. “It worked! It actually worked!”
Oh, that smug look? He thinks he’s clever. Loosened the cargo, did he? A nice trick, but not enough to stop me.
The ship pitches again, and I grab the nearest rope to steady myself. My dagger slips from my grasp, clattering across the deck. The bard, perched above me, clutches the stairs like he’s clinging to life itself.
Once the schooner steadies, I start toward him, every step measured. No rush. His eyes lock with mine, and there it is—that flicker of fear beneath the bravado.
“Big mistake,” I say, my lips pulling into a wicked grin. “You’re gonna regret it.”
He stammers, Adam’s apple bobbing like he’s about to choke on his own tongue. “I-I did everything I could, Miss Captain! I swear!” Then, before I can get a word in edgewise, the idiot bolts.His white shirt flaps in the wind like a flag of surrender as he darts behind Gypsy at the helm.
