Gideon stepped out of his cabin and into the light, the creaking of the deck under his heavy leather boots greeting him like an old friend. He stroked Hugh's wings as the parrot clung tighter to his richly adorned, wine-red velvety coat. It was a trinket he'd stolen off the corpse of a nobleman who wouldn’t be needing it anymore. Hugh nipped playfully at the golden earring in Gideon’s left ear and squawked. A faint smile played on the captain's scarred lips as he took in the rhythm of his ship. Rob perched in the crow’s nest, vigilant as ever. Kyle knelt by the battered hull, inspecting the scars left by their last skirmish. Wallace tended to a wounded crewmate, loyal as a dog. All was as it should be aboard the Reaper, save for one blemish in his line of sight.

She stood at the edge of the upper deck, leaning lazily against the rail, watching the waves like they had tales worth hearing. Gideon’s smile soured. Leisure had no place on his ship, especially not for her. Not for the girl who dared to wear the title of pirate, the one he saved from the gallows merely for her perky tits and attitude that made his blood boil. Infuriating, aye. But also, exciting.

A woman aboard his ship? What a farce. He might’ve promised this minx the glory of adventure, but he had different plans. There was scrubbing to do, tasks to keep her busy, and Gideon intended to make sure she earned her place with sweat and silence like a good, obedient crewmate should. She had spirit, that one, and there was too much of it for his liking. But spirit could be broken, and he’d made stronger men crumble under his command.

Gideon descended toward her with steady steps, boots thudding like war drums. If she wanted to live like a pirate, she’d live hard and learn quickly that the sea showed no mercy to anyone, least to foolish girls playing at sailors. And she would learn to please the master of the seas. Gideon couldn't wait to see her on her knees, squirming under his orders. She wanted to be a pirate and he’d make her one. As much as a woman could be.

He dropped a heavy bucket at her feet and straightened his back proudly. A wickedly curved and well-worn dagger bumped against his thigh as he crossed his arms over a half-unbuttoned shirt, revealing a chest marked by old scars.

"Break's over, sugar," he remarked, revealing a smirk beneath his thick beard. "Time to start payin’ yer debt. The deck needs scrubbin’, and there's no one more suitable for the job than you." He kicked the bucket toward her, some of the foamy water sloshing onto the planks. Gideon stepped closer, his fingers brushing her arm in a rough mockery of a caress. "I want to see it spotless, sweetness. If you do a good job, I might even reward ya. I might even consider making you the pirate you're so desperate to be."

He chuckled at his own lie and stroked the parrot sitting on his arm. Hugh fluttered in approval.

"Reward! Reward!" Hugh squawked, rustling its wings.

"That’s right, Hugh. Good little pirates get rewarded." Gideon muttered, still petting the bird. "Get to it, sugar. Prove yourself useful."