10. Zayan

10

Zayan

K eeping up with Gypsy Flint? Might as well try to catch the damn wind.

The sea’s gone mad, unraveling second by second, as if coming to life just to spite me. The moment she leapt into that cursed skiff, making a beeline for the schooner near the shoals, I knew—nothing good would come of it. Gypsy Flint doesn’t wait for anyone. Least of all me.

“Let me take the helm!” I bark, pushing past the man clinging to the wheel like it’s the only thing holding him together. His eyes are wide, hands trembling. The storm has him in a chokehold, and the poor bastard’s never seen anything like this one before. Fuck, neither have I. “I’ll catch her!”

My heart hammers as I watch the schooner bounce on the huge waves, almost daring the sea to break it in two. The anchor barely cleared the water, and Gypsy’s already lowering the sails like she’s challenging fate itself.

God-fucking-damn her.

Of course she’s not sitting out the storm. Why would she? Gypsy Flint thrives on chaos—drunk on it, setting the world on fire just to watch it burn.

Does she even know how much coin the prisoner she’s holding is worth? Does she realize she’s about to paint a target on her back in every port of the Whisperwind Sea? Fuck... how much trouble can one woman attract?

Every muscle in my body tightens, and I curse myself for falling behind. I swore to Silverbeard I’d keep her safe, swore I’d stay close. But here I am, chasing her across angry waters, barely keeping up.

Just last night, everything seemed fine when she stormed off Medusa’s Gaze, clutching her belongings like her life depended on it. I watched her hit the docks, and I made sure Silverbeard saw me, so he’d know I was following. He gave me a single nod—eyes glinting, his face hard as stone.

I tried.

She spent the night on the beach, so quiet I thought, just maybe, she’d given up on that damned compass. Maybe the fire in her had burned out. Maybe she realized this wasn’t some grand adventure—it was a death wish.

Yeah, right.

With the first light of dawn, she was up like a shot, racing toward Roche’s side of the island, moving faster than I could blink. I had to stick to the jungle to stay unseen, but by the time I reached Old Bayou, she was already on the dock, eyes locked on the horizon.

And then? All hell broke loose. The locals slowed me down, eager to chat up a Marauder. They heard the rumors about me and Gypsy already. By the time I shook them off, she was rowing toward the schooner, halfway through the shoals. Two figures were tumbling overboard as I hit the docks, and I knew I was out of time.

But luck was on my side—sort of. I latched onto this ship, sturdy enough and fast enough to give me a fighting chance. Why sort of, though? Well, the crew wants Gypsy dead.

There’s a high-value prisoner stashed below, worth enough to buy these men new lives. They need him alive, which is the only reason they haven’t thrown me overboard. They’ve been paid handsomely to bring him back, and they’ll crush anyone who gets in their way.

Of course, I told them I’d help. What choice do I have? Said something about her crossing me on land and needing the retribution, and they let me in.

But these aren’t your usual cutthroat pirates. They’re the pretentious privateer types—played by the rules until the rules stopped paying. Now they take odd jobs from the rich and ruthless, chasing coin wherever it leads. This whole mission of theirs? It’s just another payday, a merc job dressed up in fancy sails.

The ship’s no dinghy either. Ten cannons on each side, sails so spotless you’d think the gods themselves blessed them. A real beauty—a beast that could snap Gypsy’s schooner in two without breaking a sweat.

But let’s deal with one disaster at a time, yeah?

“Set the damn sails, or we’ll lose them!” My voice cuts through the storm like a blade.

Every head snaps in my direction, eyes wide, drowning in fear. Not surprising. These men are in way over their heads. They’ve never seen a storm like this, and they have no idea how to survive it.

Well, I’m your ticket out of this, lads. Stick with me, and you might make it through without losing more than your breakfast.

I shove past the captain, grabbing the wheel. His grip slackens in relief when I take the responsibility off him, but the doubt in his eyes tells me he’s already questioning his decision to step aside.

“Unfurl the sails!” I shout again. This time, there’s no hesitation. The deck erupts in motion. Sailors scramble, ropes fly, sails snap open to catch the wind. The ship surges forward, cutting through the chaos as wave after wave crashes against the bow.

“One disaster at a time, Zayan,” I recall Roche’s words in my head. “ The storm is a bag full of disasters. If you try to handle them all at once, the sea will swallow you whole.”

But this storm is something else. In my whole life of sailing the seas, I have never had to tame waves this tall.

“Don’t fear the storm!” I call out to the men even though it feels like I’m talking to myself. “This ship’s sterner than you think! She can handle it!”

I hear a couple fear-filled ‘aye’s here and there that are roared by cracked voices and clutched throats. The fear is so thick I can nearly taste it in the breeze.

And yet, even with the stench of it engulfing me, and the sight of deep black waters all around me, there’s only one thing on my mind. Her.

My eyes are locked on the little schooner she steers. I can barely make out her figure, a tiny speck against the chaos of the sea, but I know she’s there. Gypsy . Always so damn far out of reach, always so fucking far.

“We… we can’t unfurl completely!” the so-called captain beside me stammers. His voice is trembling, like he’s already half-drowned. “It’s too dangerous! This isn’t worth our lives!” His hand clamps down on my shoulder. “This is sure death!”

The second his fingers touch me, something snaps inside me. I whip my head toward him, eyes locking onto his with a cold, deadly calm.

“Get your hands off me,” I growl, my voice low enough to make him flinch. “The sea’s no place for cowards. Are you a sailor or not?”

His hand falters, lips trembling like he’s about to break. Sure, he’s a sailor, but he’s not built like me. Not the type to look death in the eye and laugh. His gaze shifts to the horizon, where the clouds gather thick and dark, like vultures circling a carcass.

“Save us, Lady,” he mutters under his breath. For a second, I think he’s about to collapse right there on deck. But then, something clicks. Maybe it’s resolve. Maybe it’s madness. Hell, could be both. He suddenly shouts to the crew, “Listen to the pirate!”

Like they needed his approval. The men are a mess, huddled in corners, too scared to even lift a damn finger. But a few of them stir, dragging themselves to their feet, as if some half-dead instinct’s kicking in. Discipline? No, not anymore. They’re running on fumes and fear.

Then the ship lurches hard, the deck tipping like it’s trying to throw us all overboard. I grip the wheel tight, knuckles white, the only thing keeping me from being tossed with the rest of them. Men slip, hit the deck. From below, I can hear prayers, desperate and useless.

Should’ve stayed in their corners after all

“Pirate!” The captain’s voice cracks, barely holding it together. “Our lives are in your hands! Keep her steady, don’t let us die!”

What the hell does he think I’m trying to do?

I grit my teeth and tighten my grip on the wheel until my fingers go numb. Not that I can feel much anymore. The cold’s sunk its teeth into me, and my feet feel like blocks of ice.

“Move it, you bastards!” I shout over the storm, voice raw and torn from the salt and wind. “You!” I jab a finger at some sorry soul who looks seconds from passing out. “Get that flag up—now!”

I pull out my flag—the one Gypsy knows. It’s soaked, half its size in this storm, but it’s all I’ve got. Maybe if we hoist it high enough, she’ll see it. Maybe she’ll know I’m right on her tail. Maybe—just maybe—she’ll turn her ship around.

Or hell, maybe she’ll just speed off even faster to escape me. Wouldn’t surprise me. But I’ll be damned if I don’t at least give her something to think about.

The poor fool scrambles to hoist the little grey flag, and soon it’s snapping against the wind.

The ship creaks and groans beneath me, fighting to stay upright as we smash through another wave. I can barely make out the schooner, just a flash of sails before the storm swallows it whole.

But hell, that’s nothing compared to what Gypsy’s dealing with out there. I squint through the rain, and there she is—her schooner tossed around like a toy in a child’s tantrum. One wrong move, and she’s finished. Her sails catch a wild gust, and for a moment, the ship tilts, teetering on the edge of disaster.

“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 into this. 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.

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 some bard to 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... a bard ? 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 getting gutted. 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.

So that’s her little champion, is it? My blood boils all over again.

Her eyes lock onto mine, and just then, a bolt of lightning splits the sky, lighting her up like some vengeful goddess come to claim my soul. My heart lodges itself in my throat.

What a beauty. What chaos in the flesh.

“Gypsy!” I shout, taking a bold step toward the stairs, a smirk curling on my lips. “Fancy running into you like this!”

That does it. Something snaps in her. Her teeth are bared, rain and seawater dripping down her face, and for a second, all I can think is how damned breathtaking she looks, even when she’s ready to tear me apart.

“Hold the wheel, bard!” she shouts, leaving the wheel spinning like mad, the ship lurching as the waves batter us from all sides. But she doesn’t care—not one bit. No, she’s charging at me like the devil himself shoved her forward, and I’m the lucky bastard she’s chosen to gut.

“Me?!” The bard’s panicked voice reaches me from somewhere behind, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Gypsy.

“Fancy running into me?!” Gypsy’s scream cuts through the storm, louder than the thunder rumbling overhead. “I’ll fancy killing you, you bastard!”

And just like that, her dagger is out, catching the storm’s light. I should be fighting for my life, but all I can do is stare. The lightning strikes again, purple and royal behind her. The sea shoots into the air. Waves crash. And amidst all this chaos, she looks perfectly in place with it all—fierce, furious, and, fuck… even prettier than a moment before. I’m frozen. Mesmerized .

And then my body remembers what my brain apparently doesn’t—this woman’s trying to kill me. Instinct kicks in, and I snap back into action, my grin never leaving my face.

I feel more alive now than I have in years .

She swings the dagger at me, pure rage in every movement. If not for a wave knocking me backward, she’d probably even slice me open. But the ship lurches again, and I scramble to stay upright on the slick, heaving deck.

“Fight me, you coward!” she screams, her eyelashes catching the rain, looking like sea urchins bristling in the storm. “Don’t just stand there! Fight!”

I raise my hands, palms out, the sea spray blinding me for a moment. “No.”

She swings again, her blade cutting the air so close I can feel the wind of it. I stumble back, my heart pounding in my chest, but not from fear. Oh no. Not from fear.

“Save him! Save the pirate!” a voice calls from the merchant ship, but all I can think is don’t . I like it here. But then a crack of a gunshot splits the storm, and I curse under my breath. They’re aiming at her. At her .

“Stop!” I roar, spinning to face them, rage bubbling up. They’re still firing, the bullets lost in the storm’s fury. One zips past us, close enough to feel, and I see it—the flicker in Gypsy’s eyes. Fear. Just for a heartbeat. But it’s enough.

I watch as she loses her footing, sliding toward the edge. Time slows, and I know—she’s not going to catch the railing. The sea, dark and hungry, waits to swallow her whole.

“Gypsy!” I yell, but my voice is lost to the wind. She’s already falling. Lightning cracks again, lighting up her face, her hair whipping wild.

Chase her, you idiot. It’s what you always do.

The cold sting of death brushes past me—black water as deep and unforgiving as the woman I’d throw myself into it for. The sea’s pulling me in, and I welcome it.

Without thinking, I let go of the rope and dive. The deck’s a blur beneath me as I skid across it, faster than I’ve ever moved in my life. My hand shoots out, and just as she slips over the edge, my fingers lock around her wrist.

For a moment, we’re hanging in the storm—her body dangling over the sea, my grip the only thing between her and the abyss.

“I’ve got you,” I breathe, every muscle in my body screaming as I hold her.

The ship tilts again, and the sea pulls at her, hungry, trying to drag her from me. But with a grunt, I yank her back, pulling her to safety. We crash onto the deck, a mess of limbs and drenched clothes, gasping for breath. She pushes herself up, and for a split second, our faces are so close, I can feel her breath against my lips.

Then, just as quickly, she shoves me off, rolling away and scrambling to her feet.

“Don’t think for a second I won’t kill you now,” she spits, but her voice shakes, her chest rising and falling like she’s still trying to catch her breath.

I laugh, low and rough, the sound barely human. Damn, I missed this. We just get each other—her and I.

“Whatever gets you all worked up, love.” I stand, my hands still buzzing from the feel of her skin.

Her eyes flash, sharp as the blade she’s always so quick to throw. For a heartbeat, I think she might go for it. But no—her gaze shifts past me, locking onto the ship closing in on us, the one that’s still hunting this little schooner.

“But first, I’m dealing with your new friends. After that, you’re a dead man, Cagney.”

The way she says it? Hell, I’m almost sure she might give me a second chance after all.