POV: Beth
Blood Harbor reeked of rot, rum, and death.
Buildings leaned like drunk men, patched with stolen wood and rusted metal. Every corner brimmed with shouting, gambling, prostitutes laughing, knives flashing. The air tasted of smoke and danger. Black flags flapped overhead, stitched with skulls and serpent symbols. Even Alaric’s crew stepped off the gangplank slower than usual, hands near blades.
Alaric tossed a coin purse to Kaine. “Stock rum. Salted meat. Ammo. No trouble.”
Kaine smirked. “Since when do we avoid trouble?”
“Since I’m in command.”
He said it lightly—but everyone heard the edge. Respect—grudging, real. I envied it.
My gaze cut across crowds. Traders haggled over crates of stolen jewels. A pair of pirates hauled a man across cobblestones, his wrists bloodied. A woman sharpened a sword casually while threatening someone in a foreign tongue. Every shadow hid hunger.
And somewhere in this cesspit of horrors might be news of Rowan.
Father.
My heart squeezed. I needed answers—anything, gossip, rumor, sign he lived.
I slipped away while Alaric barked orders—unnoticed.
Or so I thought.
A dingy tavern sign creaked overhead: THE STITCHED CORPSE. Fitting. I stepped inside. Smell hit like a punch—vomit, sweat, spilled ale, and something metallic underneath. My stomach twisted but I forced myself forward.
I approached the barkeep—an old man with one eye and too many knives.
“I need information.”
He snorted. “Everyone does. What do you pay with, girl?”
I hesitated. “Silver.”
His interest sharpened. “Speak.”
“My father—Governor Rowan of England—imprisoned weeks ago. Any rumors?”
The tavern quieted slightly—not by much, but enough to feel every nearby ear tilt toward us.
Rowan’s name was dangerous currency.
The barkeep leaned in. “Prince Adrian announces execution soon. Says the governor protected pirate blood. Says he hid a salt-marked child.”
Salt-marked.
My wrist burned beneath the cloth again. I clenched my fist.
“When is the execution?” I whispered.
“Soon.” His grin revealed brown teeth. “Unless someone buys him out, breaks him out… or kills the prince first.”
Before I could reply—a hand clamped over my mouth.
Another seized my wrist, twisting painfully. My knife skittered across the floor.
I couldn’t scream.
Two men dragged me backward between tables; another blocked the door. Their voices low, excited.
“Governor’s girl, aye?”
“Worth a fortune to the Crown.”
“Or Silas. He loves trophies.”
Panic surged white-hot. I kicked, bit, fought—but fingers like iron dug into my arms. Someone pulled my hair back sharply. Tears stung my eyes.
“I’ll take her.” A new voice snarled. “Coin or pleasure, don’t matter to me.”
They dragged me through back door into an alley, mud and rot splashing my boots. My heart hammered so loud I barely heard them arguing over price.
Alaric. I thought wildly. Where are you?
But the one who appeared wasn’t him.
Steel flashed—one pirate gurgled as a blade slid across his throat. Blood sprayed the wall. The grip on me loosened just enough—I twisted free, stumbling back as my captors turned to face the attacker.
Kaine.
Eyes cold as deep sea.
He moved like storm. One kick knocked a man’s knee backward with sickening crack. Another strike buried his knife in the third’s ribs. Bodies dropped into the mud, twitching. The alley filled with copper smell.
Kaine grabbed my arm, breath harsh. “You’ve got death wish, girl.”
“I needed information,” I gasped.
“You could’ve gotten sold.”
“I wasn’t helpless.”
“You were outnumbered and unarmed.”
My jaw clenched. “I would’ve managed.”
“Not before your throat opened.” His voice wasn’t mocking—it was angry. “Alaric will kill me for this.”
He dragged me back toward harbor. I hated how much I needed his grip to stay steady.
Alaric waited on deck when we returned. The moment he saw me—mud-stained, shaken—something like fire flashed across his face. He jumped down the gangplank, coat whipping behind him.
“What happened?” His voice was sharp enough to draw blood.
“She wandered off,” Kaine said. “Nearly got taken.”
Alaric’s gaze snapped to mine—dark, stormy, furious.
“You disobeyed me.”
I lifted my chin. “I needed answers. About my father.”
“You could’ve died,” he hissed, stepping closer, chest almost touching mine. “Do you think I’ll hunt Silas and Adrian both just to collect your corpse?”
Heat surged—fury and humiliation tangled.
“I refuse to be caged,” I spat. “Not by a prince. Not by you.”
His voice dropped to a dangerous purr. “Then learn chains the sea respects. Not rope—fear.”
“I’m not afraid.”
He grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Then you’re either brave—or stupid.”
“Maybe both,” I breathed.
Something flickered there—annoyance, admiration, hunger, I couldn’t tell.
He released me abruptly, turning away before emotion could root deeper.
“Next time you run off,” he said without looking back, “I’ll tie you to the mast myself.”
Crew hushed. Every word hung heavy.
I walked past him, jaw set, pulse wild.
Because even with fear clawing my ribs—
A part of me thrilled. I wasn’t the girl in the white wedding dress anymore. I was something else.