POV: Beth
Pirate ports always smelled like sweat, sea rot, and spilled rum, but tonight it felt heavier—something electric crawling beneath my skin like a storm I couldn’t outrun. The tavern was full to bursting, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, music clashing with shouting, tankards slamming against wooden tables. Alaric drank with Kaine and half the crew near the back, laughing too loudly at something Mira whispered into his ear.
My jaw clenched. I looked away fast.
I told myself the heat in my chest was anger—not jealousy. Never jealousy.
I sat at the bar, nursing a cup of watered rum, pretending I didn’t notice Mira glance at me with a little victory-smirk every now and then. She was radiant even under the dim lamps—red lips, that waterfall of raven hair, clothes cut to show off every dangerous curve. Men watched her like moths to a torch flame.
And she enjoyed every second.
I refused to look bothered. I refused to care at all.
“New girl looks tense,” a man slurred beside me, breath sour with ale. “Too stiff for a pirate port. Need help… loosenin’ up?”
“Not interested.” I didn’t look at him.
He touched my wrist.
Before I could slash his hand away with the small knife I always kept hidden, Mira appeared at my side, leaning against the bar like a queen surveying subjects.
“She said no,” Mira purred, voice sweet and threatening, “and you’re ugly. Go drown somewhere.”
The man backed off instantly, muttering. Mira smirked and flicked her hair, sliding into the seat beside me. The entire tavern seemed to shift around us, watching.
“Relax, Beth,” she said, tone honey-smooth. “Everyone’s staring. They can smell fear like sharks smell blood.”
I stiffened. “I’m not afraid.”
“Of course not.” Her lips twitched. “You just look like a rabbit sitting at a wolf banquet.”
I turned sharply to her. “You don’t have to mock me every time you breathe.”
Her expression softened—or maybe it only pretended to. “Mocking you? Darling, I’m trying to teach you. Pirates devour the weak. You either sharpen your teeth… or get eaten.”
“That’s convenient advice coming from someone who bites people for sport.”
She laughed. Truly laughed. It startled me how pretty it sounded.
Before I could snap back, the tavern doors burst open with a crash loud enough to silence every voice at once. Four men entered, cloaks soaked with rain, swords glinting like hungry steel. Their eyes swept the room—predatory. Hunting.
My hand flashed to my dagger.
Kaine stood abruptly. Alaric rose slower, but the shift of his shoulders was enough to say danger. Mira’s hand dropped to her thigh where her blade was strapped.
The men stopped in the center of the tavern.
“Word is,” the tallest growled, voice gravelly, “a certain pretty pirate captain owes us money. Mira, love—been avoiding us?”
Mira’s smile was razor. “If I owed you anything, you’d already be buried with it.”
Chairs scraped. Knives unsheathed. Tension snapped like brittle bone.
The tavern exploded.
Tables overturned. Tankards flew. A man lunged for Mira first—fast, knife aimed for her ribs. She blocked with a swift twist, dagger flashing like lightning. They clashed, metal sparking. Mira moved like dance and violence made one.
Another attacker grabbed my arm.
Instinct took over. I rammed my elbow into his throat, cut across his forearm—blood sprayed. He roared and tackled me into a table. Pain shot through my back. I gasped, struggling beneath his weight, dagger scraping against the floor.
I heard Alaric shout my name somewhere across the chaos—voice furious, desperate.
But he was too far.
The man pinned me, knife raised.
Mira’s fight raged behind him—she kicked one man into a wall and slashed another’s leg. But as her blade swung for the kill, a third attacker grabbed her hair from behind and slammed her face into the table.
For a heartbeat, Mira was dazed—vulnerable.
My attacker lifted his knife.
Something inside me snapped.
I twisted hard, grabbed a broken bottle from the floor, and slammed it into his neck. He gurgled and collapsed off me. I stumbled up, adrenaline shaking through me like lightning.
The third attacker raised a sword to finish Mira while she still struggled to regain footing.
I didn’t think. I moved.
I threw my dagger—not perfectly, not like Kaine taught me—but true enough. It sliced across his wrist, his sword dropping. Mira spun, slick and deadly, slitting his throat before he could scream.
Silence fell thick and sudden.
Bodies lay across the tavern floor, bleeding into grooves between planks. Pirates stared. Some in amusement. Some in awe.
My breath heaved. My hands trembled—not like weakness now, but like power awakening.
Mira turned to me slowly. Her nose bled. Her lip was split. And she smiled—gentle, grateful.
She stepped forward, touching my cheek with a blood-stained hand.
“You saved me,” she whispered.
Her eyes softened in a way that made me feel exposed, unarmored.
For one fragile second, she looked so human.
“Don’t read into it,” I said, voice uneven. “I didn’t do it for you.”
Her thumb brushed my jaw. Intimate. Dangerous.
“No,” she murmured, “you did it because you’re becoming one of us.”
Heat shot up my spine. I stepped back.
Around us, crew members nodded with newfound respect—for her. For me maybe too, but mostly for the spectacle she made of gratitude. She knew exactly how to play an audience.
Kaine grinned at me. “Not bad, princess.”
Alaric pushed through the crowd, eyes catching mine first—fear, relief, anger flickering. Then he saw Mira’s hand on my cheek.
His jaw tightened.
Mira noticed.
She smirked and leaned closer to me deliberately, lips almost brushing my ear.
“Careful, Beth,” she whispered, “men like him break girls like us. Better we break them first.”
I stepped away completely, chest tight with something I refused to name.
Later, back aboard the ship, crew clustered around Mira—praising her, drinking with her, letting her regale the tavern fight like she alone was queen of the night.
I stood at the rail, wind cold on my face.
Mira caught my eye from across the deck.
She raised her glass.
To me. Or to the game she was playing.
I didn’t raise mine back. I didn’t trust her warmth. I didn’t trust her gratitude. But god help me—saving her felt like choosing fire with my bare hands.