Chapter 23 Sink or Float
For a moment, there was nothing but smoke and sea.
The deck pitched hard beneath me, throwing my weight toward the port rail. My boots slipped on something wet—water, blood, I didn’t look long enough to tell—and I caught myself on the splintered wood, breath tearing in my chest. The Ghost groaned like something alive and wounded, her ribs creaking under the strain.
The ring bit into my palm.
I hadn’t realized I’d grabbed it.
My fingers curled tighter around the gold, pressing it hard enough to hurt. The edge dug in, sharp, real. Kept me here. Kept me from spiraling with fear.
I dragged in a breath.
Tar. Salt. Smoke.
It burned all the way down.
For a heartbeat, the noise thinned. Not gone. Never gone. Just… pulled back enough to hear the space between.
Then I saw him.
Across the stretch of black water, the other ship rode too close. Close enough that I could see their faces. The whites of their eyes. The way their mouths split open in wild, eager grins.
At the prow stood a man carved out of scars. His eyes locked onto me across the distance.
He didn’t blink.
Kip.
I knew it the way you know a storm is coming before the clouds roll in. His hand lifted.
Not a wave.
A command.
“TAKE HER ALIVE!”
His voice cut through the smoke and chaos, sharp enough to hook into my ribs and pull.
Alive?
The word hit harder than any cannon. Stories I hadn’t let myself think about clawed their way up. I was six years old. I overheard stories then men at the tavern were talking about. About ships that never came back, men who vanished, women mentally broken. My father’s coat hanging by the door. My mother’s hands shaking as she buttoned it closed.
The chain at my throat burned.
I clenched the ring harder, gold grinding into my skin.
Now. Stay now.
The Red Eel fired.
The blast slammed into me before the sound did. The world cracked open, air punching out of my lungs as the rail beside me exploded. Splinters tore across my neck and cheek—sharp, hot—then everything went white.
Ringing.
Just ringing.
Hands grabbed me. Dragged me upright. When did I fall? How did I fall. Those questions lingered as a face filled my bury vision.
Reed.
His arm locked around my waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. His face blurred in and out, eyes too wide, mouth moving before the sound caught up.
“MOVE!” he shouted. “They’re boarding!”
The word barely landed before the hooks did.
Iron claws slammed into the deck with a heavy, wet thud. Ropes went taut. Red coats poured over the rail like a flood—boots, blades, teeth bared.
Boarding?
Above it all, a voice cut through.
Fisk.
Close. Too close.
I turned—He was there, forcing his way through the chaos, smoke clinging to him, eyes locked on me like the rest of the world had dropped away. His hand reached out—I moved toward him.
The deck gave.
A deep, splintering crack tore through the hull beneath my feet. The world tilted, sharp and sudden, and the ground dropped out from under me.
Weightless.
My stomach lurched as I went sideways, straight toward the broken rail.
His fingers caught my wrist.
For a second—Just a second—Everything held.
His grip was iron. Warm. Real.
My other hand clawed for him, but my fingers slid, slick with water and blood.
“Siri—!”
My name broke from him, torn apart by the wind and the roar of the sea.
I saw his face.
Not the sharp grin. Not the easy confidence.
Gone.
Stripped down to something raw.
Fear.
It hit me harder than the fall. Then his grip slipped.
And I was gone.
The water swallowed me whole. Cold slammed into me, stole the air from my lungs, wrapped tight around my ribs until they screamed. Salt flooded my mouth, my nose, my eyes—burning, blinding. For a second, I didn’t know which way was up.
Just dark.
Endless and heavy.
Feeling for the ring on my neck. I grabbed onto it. I needed it to calm down. Feeling it there it felt so small but strong.
Mine.
I kicked.
Hard.
My body remembered even when my mind didn’t. Legs driving, arms pulling, fighting through the drag of wet clothes and the weight of the sea pressing in from all sides.
Up.
Find up.
My lungs burned, chest tightening, panic clawing its way in.
Then—Air.
I broke the surface with a gasp that tore my throat raw. Water rushed in anyway, choking me, spilling from my mouth as I coughed and sucked in another breath.
The Ghost drifted farther away, her hull dark and wounded, men still fighting along her deck.
Too far.
The Red Eel loomed closer.
Shadows moved along her side. Ropes dropped. Even Nets, They were not fishermen and I was no fish. I refused to let them get me.
I spun in the water, kicking back, but there was nowhere to go. The sea dragged at me, heavy and slow, every movement a fight.
The moon above fractured into pieces, sliced apart by swinging ropes and broken masts.
I spat salt from my mouth and screamed. It tore out of me, raw and ragged. All I could think of was getting back to him.
For the way he’d looked at me like I was something he couldn’t afford to lose.
The nets hit the water around me.
Closed fast.
Rough rope scraped over my skin as they hauled, the weight tightening, dragging me down and in.
I fought.
Of course I did.
But the sea had already taken its share of my strength.
The world narrowed to rope and hands and the crushing pull upward.
Darkness crept in at the edges.
Taking a single moment and grabbed my mothers ring. I sent out a prayer. A promise really.
This wasn’t how it ended.
Not like this.
Because somewhere behind me, across smoke and fire and blood—he was still there.
And the thought burned hotter than the sea was cold as the dark finally closed in.