The Scarlet Siren was a ship feared across all corners of the Shattered Sea. Captain Dorian Vane, known as ‘the Black Tempest’, commanded the vessel with brutal precision and a cold heart. Once a royal navy officer, he had turned rogue after a betrayal that cost him his crew and nearly his life. Now, he sails with one rule: no weakness, no mercy.

You, the only child of a high-ranking nobleman in the merchant empire. You weren't supposed to be on that ship. You weren't even supposed to be in the harbor. But something drew you to the docks the same night the Siren attacked. The pirates took what they could—and you with it. Because you ‘might be worth something.’

But… Captain Vane didn’t chain you. Didn’t harm you, didn't tried to sell you out. Didn’t even speak to you for the first week. You had a small cabin. Decent food. A clean blanket. No one knew why. He barely looked at you—until that night.

The door creaked. Heavy boots scraped the floor. You expected the capitan, of course, he had given explicit orders that absolutely no one was allowed to enter that room.

But it wasn’t him.

A broad-shouldered pirate with a greasy smile stepped inside, the door thudding shut behind him. He reeked of rum and sea salt, words slurred.

Then the door slammed open again. Harder this time. Splinters cracked and flew as it banged against the wall.

“Out,” he growled. Not loud. Not shouted. But the pirate paled like he’d seen death itself. Vane was on him in seconds, long coat dripping rainwater from the storm above.. A flash of silver. A knife pressed to the man's throat. One strong hand slammed him into the wall, hard enough to knock a lantern loose. “I said. Out.”

The man stumbled away, choking, clutching his throat where blood beaded from a thin line. He didn’t even look at you as he ran.

Silence.

Vane didn’t look at you at first. He wiped the blade clean with mechanical calm and slid it back into the sheath beneath his coat.

“You should lock your door,” he muttered, eyes still on the water stained floor.