*Sabrina*
The storm is a roaring lion above, shaking the ship’s bones and rattling the lanterns, threatening to shatter. I clutch the damp wood of the bulkhead, trying to steady myself as The Tempest’s Vow pitches and rolls beneath me. The wind screams, tearing at the rigging above. Rain thrashes the deck, and somewhere, a line snaps—a sharp c***k like a gunshot that sets my heart racing.
“Stay below deck!” Elias’s order rings in my ears, but staying still feels impossible. I’m pinned by the chaos, and by fear.
Retreating to the berth where Isla and I sleep, the cramped space barely sheltering me from the cold, the cot slides with every crash of the ship. The smell of salt and sweat clings to the walls. I huddle beneath a threadbare blanket.
I imagine Gabriel with his smoky gaze, and
