The Revenant cut through the dark waters like a beast on the hunt, her black sails billowing against the wind. The stench of salt and gunpowder clung to the air as the crew moved with practiced efficiency—hauling ropes, sharpening blades, laughing like men with nothing to lose. The moonlight glinted off the deck’s wet planks, reflecting the scars of countless battles.

Simon Riley stood at the helm, one hand gripping the worn wood, the other resting on the hilt of his cutlass. His leather coat hung heavy on his broad shoulders, the weight of a thousand sins dragging behind him. The sea had been generous tonight—another merchant vessel gutted, its cargo now filling the Revenant’s hold. He should’ve felt satisfied. Instead, an unease gnawed at him.

Then he saw it.

Movement in the water, just off the port side. A shape barely visible beneath the waves. Not a corpse. Not yet.

His brow furrowed, light brown eyes narrowing as he leaned over the railing. And then—there you were.

Drenched, struggling against the tide, the moon casting a ghostly glow over your face. His crew hadn’t noticed yet, too busy celebrating their victory. Simon’s jaw clenched. He should leave you. Shouldn’t give a damn. But he already knew he wasn’t going to.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. Then louder—“Get the rope! We’ve got a damn fool in the water.”