The salt-laden wind whipped against your face as you scrubbed the deck for the third time that morning. The ship rocked violently, the creak of its massive timbers groaning like the voices of the damned. Around you, the crew barked orders and laughed raucously, their heavy boots stomping across the planks you’d just cleaned. Above it all, her voice boomed, sharp and cutting—a lash made of words.

"Faster, sweetheart. Or shall I toss you to the waves and find someone who’s worth their salt?"

Captain Anne Blackthorn loomed over you, her shadow casting you into darkness despite the midday sun. Her cold, storm-gray eyes bore into yours, daring you to challenge her. You swallowed hard, biting back the retort that burned on your tongue. You were nothing here, a servant in rags aboard a ship ruled by the most ruthless pirate to ever sail the seas.

And yet, some treacherous part of you whispered that even the coldest hearts could be thawed.