POV: Beth
The deck felt too small for breathing after Silas’s exit—like his presence still pressed against every plank. Crew moved in shaky silence, patching ripped rails, dragging bodies from water, whispering prayers no god ever answered.
Night settled heavy, tinted red by lantern glow. Every sound felt sharp—rope creak, wood groan, Alaric’s restless pacing like claws on my nerves.
I stood alone near stern, hands gripping railing so hard splinters bit. My heartbeat hadn’t slowed since Kraken’s eye found me. I should have collapsed from fear. Instead, something inside me thrummed like a drum—alive, burning.
Silas had seen it. Alaric had too.
I sensed him approach before hearing him. His footsteps… hesitant. Not like him.
“You could’ve died,” he said, voice low.
“So could everyone else,” I whispered.
“You put yourself between me and—”
“I put myself between the crew and a monster,” I cut sharply. “You froze.”
His jaw clenched. Wound struck. “You think I don’t know?”
I didn’t answer.
He stepped closer—too close—heat of him brushing my arm. “Beth,” he breathed, frustration and something raw beneath, “I can’t lose another ship to that thing. I can’t—” His voice broke, barely audible. “Not again.”
I turned. For a heartbeat our faces inches apart, sea-salt breath mixing. His eyes weren’t steel now—they were storm. Afraid. Human.
I could’ve softened.
Instead I said, “Then maybe you need someone who doesn’t freeze.”
Pain flickered across him like lightning.
Before he could reply—a horn blew once.
Silas returned.
His flagship slid through darkness silently, mist curling around bow like ghost fingers. He boarded as though gravity obeyed him alone, coat swaying, blade at his hip untouched. Men parted without command—fear moving their feet for them.
Alaric stood tall, jaw set—but I saw it in him. He was bracing like a man facing execution.
Silas stopped before me, ignoring Alaric completely. His proximity tasted like danger. He smelled of storm and iron and something older than both.
His hand—cold, slow—rose.
I should’ve stepped back. I didn’t.
Fingers brushed my cheek, feather-light but claiming. “Such power,” he murmured, voice like velvet wrapped around a knife. “Untamed. Unruled.”
My pulse betrayed me, jumping beneath his touch. Alaric saw—rage lit across his face like cannonfire. But Silas’s eyes stayed on mine, dark and endless.
“Come with me, Beth,” he said softly, but the whisper shook the air. “Leave this rusted pride of a ship. With me, the sea will kneel at your feet. The Kraken will guard you. Your father will be found.”
The world tilted.
My throat closed—Rowan. A name tied to pain and purpose. If Silas could save him…
“Don’t,” Alaric growled. “Don’t listen to him.”
Silas finally acknowledged him, slow head turn like amused predator. “You offer her what? Rum? Battles? Your temper?” He laughed without sound. “You can’t even protect her from your own fear.”
Alaric grabbed his sword. Kaine stepped forward. Crew braced.
Silas didn't flinch.
His thumb traced my cheekbone gently—unbearably gentle. “With me, Stormborn, you would not run from monsters.” His voice dipped lower, intimate as a secret. “You would command them.”
I swallowed, unable to breathe right.
He leaned closer, lips near my ear. “Say yes, and war ends.”
Alaric’s voice broke like crack of a whip: “Over my dead body.”
Silas smiled—pleased, not threatened. “If death is the price,” he murmured, “I accept.”
Wind howled through sails. Lanterns flickered out. Even the ocean waited.
My voice? Gone.
My heart? A battlefield.
Silas offered power, answers, Rowan.
Alaric offered… nothing he would admit aloud.
Two men, two destinies, two oceans pulling me apart.
Silas extended his hand—palm open, patient, confident. He expected I’d take it.
Alaric’s hand hovered over his sword—ready to kill for me, or die.
My breath trembled.
Silas whispered, “Choose.”
The deck was silent enough to hear waves breathing.