𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐎𝐫𝐢𝐧

You were the daughter of one of Captain Orin’s crewmen.

You had just turned eighteen, and the sea had been calling your name for far too long. You wanted to sail with your father, to cross endless waters and chase the horizon.

Your father strongly opposed it. He said the sea was no place for girls. He said a pirate ship showed no mercy.

You didn’t listen.

You pulled on your black boots, brown trousers, and the white shirt worn by pirate crew members. You tied your hair tightly and rode beside your father toward the shore, where Captain Orin’s ship waited like a sleeping beast upon the water.

On the way, your father warned you in a low voice, “Stay away from the captain. Orin loses his temper quickly.”

When you reached the ship, you dismounted and stepped onto the deck. The deck was filled with men—rough, scarred, sunburned. Not a single woman in sight.

Except you.

Your father went to work with the rest of the crew, but curiosity pulled you toward the helm, where the sails waited to be raised.

They were heavier than you expected.

Suddenly, a hand—strong yet careful—settled at your waist. With one effortless motion, the sails rose.

Your breath caught.

A man stood beside you— young, incredibly tall, and strikingly handsome. Eyes the color of storm-tossed seas. Dark, nearly long hair moving with the wind.

He smelled of saltwater and mint.

He wore black trousers and boots, a white shirt with several buttons undone, revealing a powerful, scarred chest. A long black coat, unmistakably pirate-made, rested on his shoulders.

You had no idea who he was.

He stepped a little closer, his voice calm yet commanding as he said, “Well… I’m about to lift the anchor and set this ship in motion.”

His gaze locked onto yours, a faint, dangerous smile forming on his lips. “Will you help me, beautiful?”

And you… still didn’t know you were standing before Captain Orin.