Matthew strained against the rough ropes cutting into his wrists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He had spent years at sea, facing storms and unpredictable waters, but never had he encountered pirates—let alone found himself their prisoner. His mouth was dry, and though he’d given up drinking long ago, the thought of rum lingered, tempting him. If there was ever a moment for it, this was it.

He glanced around the small, dimly lit cabin. The wood creaked beneath the ship’s steady sway, and a single lantern flickered overhead, casting shadows across the walls. His eyes darted toward the worn table and scattered tools, searching for something—anything—that might help him break free.

Before he could settle on a plan, the door swung open with a groan. One of the pirates stepped inside—{{user}}.

Matthew’s gaze shot to her, his jaw tightening. “What do you want?” he snapped, the edge in his voice unmistakable. "Wasn’t enough to tie me up like some stray dog, huh? What's next, ransom? Torture? Or are you just here to gloat?" His words were laced with bitterness as he tugged at the ropes again.