Stars were stitched into the velvet sky as the trio approached the port. The reflection of the overhead tapestry rippled in the water beneath them. Life burst out of windows and open doorways around them, telling the night to take its darkness somewhere else.

The boat bumped against the dock and Isla paid the man before disembarking. The harbor was subdued, sailors taking the cover of the night to do all they couldn't in the daylight. Lines of ships bobbed with the motion of the sea. When Isla showed no sign of heading to the ship, Hawk and Orin waited, Hawk's gaze tinged with caution. Opening her coat, she pulled out Lord Kesler's payment and handed it to Hawk.

"Secure this in my quarters," she said.

Hawk accepted the heavy pouch.

"Where will you be going?" he asked, his tone distinctively parental.

"I need a drink," she said, shrugging off her coat and handing it to Hawk as well. "Spread the word to the men, we will ride with the tide. I will be back by then."

Before Hawk could voice his opinion on Isla heading out into a city where they had just relieved a nobleman of his money, she left the pair. The further she got from the docks, the easier it was to forget the unwanted burden that was always hanging about her. Alone she could believe that her father was alive and back in charge of his ship. That one day she would have her own crew made of up of men that had grown loyal to her because she earned it, not because of her father's name. Not because they had watched her grow up.

Light jumped out of buildings along with peels of laughter and rowdy voices. Around her the world gave no thought to the darkness, time held no weight for them. They grasped their lives in their hands and were damned if they would let anyone or anything dictate them. It was the sound of people knowing that they were truly alive. It was a sound that intoxicated all who listened.

Proof of this lay below Isla as she crossed a narrow bridge, moving deeper inland. In a boat a well-dressed man stood at its center, arms spread out wide as he sang to an audience seated around him. The way he swayed said he hadn't waited for the night to fall before losing himself in a bottle. With the encouraging laughter of his companions, he continued his off-key ballad.

The man's drunken song floated off as Isla was swallowed up by an alley. The buildings around her all had the same look, but she didn't fear losing herself in the winding avenues for it was a memory that directed her feet. Her destination reached her before she reached it. The sound of music guiding her. Across a courtyard, with a fountain at its center, was a tavern three stories high. From the inside the smell of ale, good times and memories spilled out.

When Isla entered she was enveloped in the warmth of the place. Along the backside of the room was a long, gleaming mahogany bar. Opposite it was a raised circular stage. Above the main area where two sets of balconies, given the patrons overhead views of the night's entertainers. Almost every table was packed with customers, the range of wealth noticeable in the cut of their clothes or the ornamentation around their necks.

As Isla snagged a seat at the bar and ordered a glass of ale, a boy who barely looked older than sixteen stepped onto the stage. The crowd gave a loud cheer. From his appearance, Isla guessed the boy was traveling through, for his skin was paler than most and his hair was flaming red like he had been made from a candle flame. From his reception on stage, it was the place he was able to shine.

Settled on a stool, the boy lifted a lute from a battered case and tightened an unruly peg. When he strummed once, the tavern fell into a reverent hush. It was a silence Isla had not believed possible moments before. The boy smiled at his captive audience, green eyes flashing with a devilish glint. He began to sing. The warm timbre of voice and the lute overlapped, tangled and spun together like two lovers fitting to each other. He sang a song of love found and lost. It was a song that was so familiar it twisted Isla's gut.

The tavern was blanketed in wrapped silence. The old, grizzled trouper on stage was spinning the threads of the song together into a story woven with love and pain. Isla sat at a table held under the enchantment of the man's voice. Beside her, her father was as still as a statue soaking in every word.

When the story came to its tragic end, Isla was released and she looked to her father. Tears glistened in Zev's eyes, a sight that shocked Isla. Never in her fourteen years had she seen her father cry. Finally, Zev met her gaze and smiled. But it was a smile that only held sorrow.

For a breath, he didn't seem to even see Isla, but the shadow of someone else in her maturing features. The memories of the one he lost were stored away when Isla rested her hand on his. His smile took on a happier tone, as he stared at the product of that love.

Isla rose, even as the performer sang on, creating pictures with his words. Leaving coins on the counter, she left the tavern, wanting to leave the memory and ghost behind.

As she walked away held captive by her own thoughts, she didn't notice the alleyway behind her. Didn't see the silhouette that detached itself from the wall and followed.

It wasn't until she was approaching the bridge and the strains of music were long gone, that she became aware of the footsteps that echoed her own. The single set was joined by another. The tapping of boots rang off the surrounding buildings, taunting her. The bridge was in sight and across it was a pair of men that looked nothing but unsavory.

To Isla's left was an alley. To run would mean being chased and ultimate capture, this city was not as familiar to her as it was to these hard-eyed men.

The bridge meant an ambush. But walking into it willingly gave her an element of control. The bridge was narrow and though she would be cornered by four men at least, only three would be able to get at her.

Deciding, Isla continued onto the bridge, knowing it was the better of the two options. She didn't relish the thought, but the water also offered an escape if needed. Though the chances the men would follow her still was a strong possibility.

As Isla stopped at the center of the bridge and leaned against the railing, waiting to be corned, she pictured Hawk's worried expression and knew this situation was of her own making.

She took in a breath, letting the salty air fill her lungs as her heart picked up speed. The world was in sharp focus, the rough stone digging into her back, the comforting metal of the knives pressed against her forearms, the tickling breeze on her neck and cheeks, the few lights that still burned in the houses on either side of the water, the confidence in the approaching footsteps.

A third man joined the two on the opposite side of the bridge, falling behind them as the bridge offered limited space. Isla glanced to the right and found her pursuers blocking off the other end. Each man was armed with a deadly looking sword and fists scarred from brawls. The presence of the long blades reassured Isla, in these tight of quarters, the weapons would be next to useless, their reach making quick movements stunted. As predicted only three were able to surround her, the two extra men, hanging behind.

As a collection, the men looked as intimidating as could be with jagged scars marring their faces, steely, cruel eyes, and muscles shown on every exposed piece of skin. The man at the center looked Isla over as if questioning whether the entire group had been necessary.

The expression of underestimation was something Isla had always received living in a world where men ruled and women were ruled over. As the man rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, adrenaline spiked through her, readying her muscles. Her fingers tingled as anticipation coursed through her.

"I believe you're here for Earl Kesler's money," Isla said, knowing a greeting would be wasted.

To his credit, the leader gave away no hint of surprise.

"We are," he said, in a voice like rocks rubbing together.

Isla moved her attention to the man on her right, her eyes trailing over him, mockery written over her face.

"You believe you can take it from me?" she taunted.

In a blink, the man's sword was in his hand and he was lunging for her, as Isla had hoped he would. As she twisted away from the jab, she pulled out one of her daggers. Clamping one hand on the man's sword wrist, she buried the knife into his stomach. A grunt of pain rushed in her ears, as the man fell into her, blood gushing out.

Every man unsheathed their swords and charged. Using part of the first attacker's body as a shield, Isla kicked out at one man's sternum and thrust the wounded man's body onto the man behind him. The leader surged toward Isla, blade glinting in the moonlight. Spinning, she sank to her knee and sliced the man's thigh with her knife. He staggered into the railing, blooding pouring out.

As Isla twisted back to the remaining attackers, a white-hot shock of pain cut into her upper arm.  Sparks appeared in the edge of her vision. Gritting her teeth, she dived, the hard stone bruising her as she rolled out of danger.

By the time she was up again, three men were converging on her. She threw her second dagger at one while she dodged another's blade. Pain slowed her and the sword tore her side, ripping through her shirt and nicking the skin. Forcing herself to see beyond her pain, she twisted into the man's hold and sank the dagger into his side, then ripped it out.

Crying out in pain, the man stumbled into her, a human barrier. Just past the man's shoulder, she caught the glimpse of the third attacker and the leader gathering himself to reenter the fray.

As she went to shove the man against her aside, she caught the flash of dirty blonde hair and a wink of silver.

Barely registering the newcomer, Isla went for the third attacker, leaving the leader for her companion. The man swung at Isla, but she ducked the blade and smashed her knee into the man's side while shoving the knife into his arm. The man's sword clattered to the stone and Isla kicked his chest, sending him tumbling over the railing. The splash made an arc of water explode in the air.

When Isla turned to the leader, she found his body collapsing onto the bridge, Jakks standing behind it. Sheathing his sword, he smiled at her. A piece of his hair had come loose from its tail and fell across the side of his face.

"It seems trouble follows you around," he said.

"As it appears so do you," she said.

"Each time to your benefit."

"I had it in hand."

Jakks swept a hand over the group of groaning, bleeding and unconscious men. "Clearly."

When Isla bent down to retrieve her second dagger and wipe the other clean on the edge of the closest man's shirt, she winced in pain. Pressing her hand to her side, she found her palm damp with blood when she examined it. Grimacing, she replaced her knives, the draining adrenaline reminding her of the wound in her arm. The majority of her sleeve was soaked and the cut wasn't close to stopping.

"My ship is close," Jakks said, eyeing the ruined shirt that spoke of the severity of her wounds.

Lights were getting blown out above them as jobs called for sensibility. Bunching up the sleeve and pressing it against the cut, Isla fell into step beside Jakks as he directed her off the bridge. Neither glanced back at the carnage of the fight.

"When did you get in?" Isla asked, trying to ignore the throbbing in her arm.

"This evening. I spotted your ship but you weren't on board. You've spoken of the Siren's Song tavern before and I tried my luck there. It was when I heard the sound of a fight that I knew I must have found you." He sent her a roguish grin. "Where there's a fight, there's usually you."

Isla couldn't refute this claim since she had already faced two altercations earlier that day. A balmy breeze swirled around them as they left the protection of the buildings. The docks had fallen into quiet as sailors fell into beds or bottles. Jakks' ship was an impressive vessel that dwarfed the crafts around it. With its dark wood, it looked like a shadow made solid. A flag fluttered from the main master, the markings on it hard to distinguish in the dark.

Two sailors on watch, nodded to Jakks as he stepped on deck. They made no comment about Isla's presence, familiar with their relationship. Below decks, the world was muffled. Jakks struck a match bringing a spark of light to his quarters. He made the rounds lighting lamps, bringing the room into clarity. His quarters were similar to how Isla's father's had been. Clothes were draped over chairs, maps were scattered over the desk, bedsheets were rumpled, and a bottle and glasses sat on the table. It was a calculated chaos that only the owner understood.

As Isla eased herself into a chair, Jakks opened a cabinet, taking out cloths, needle, gut, and bandages. He set the items down on the table and poured Isla a drink. Gratefully, she accepted the amber liquid and downed it in one swallow. The fire of the alcohol warmed her insides and released some of the pain coursing through her battered body.

As Jakks readied a needle, Isla teased her arm out of the top of her shirt, revealing part of the cloth binding her chest. She bit back a cry of pain the action caused, closing her eyes to steady herself.

Jakks drew his chair towards hers, his knees caging one of her own in between his to get close enough. Despite the nearness, Jakks' expression was clinical, his attention resting fully on the cut in Isla's arm. He cleaned the wound, his touch was more gentle than his rugged appearance would suggest possible.

He sent her a look and Isla nodded, taking hold of the chair's arm. As he sank the needle into her flesh, she gripped the wood, fighting back a rush of nausea. When she was able to keep the bile down, she focused on Jakks. A line cut between his brows, his movements precise like old habits. The pair stayed silent and it was only when Jakks finished and wrapped a bandage around Isla's arm that she spoke.

"What brought you to Helix?" she asked.

He gestured for her to stand and she did, untucking her shirt and revealing the cut on her stomach.

"I'm surprised you haven't already heard," he said.

"Heard what?" she said, peering down at the top of his head.

When Jakks placed callused fingers on her stomach, she tensed but relaxed a second later as he cleaned the wound.

"Duke Sayers has gone missing," Jakks said, meeting her gaze. "His father is offering a reward for his return."

It took all of Isla's control to keep her face from betraying her.

"I didn't know," she said.

Jakks nodded and went back to examining the cut.

"It's not deep," he said.

He bandaged the cut, wrapping the cloth around her stomach. When Isla dropped the edge of her shirt, Jakks reclined back in his chair. Isla sank down, exhaustion creeping into her bones. Jakks poured out two more measures of the amber liquid and handed Isla the glass.

"What does Duke Sayer's disappearance have to do with you being in Helix?" she asked, taking a sip.

Jakks swallowed the contents of his glass and helped himself to another.

"As well as being one of the largest ports, this was also one of the last known locations of the Duke." Stilling holding the glass, Jakks pointed towards the harbor. "I'm here to gather what information I can."

Isla raised an eyebrow.

"The reward is worth that much?"

A slow, victorious smile slid across Jakks' face. It was one Isla had seen countless times, it reminded her of the boy she had first met. A boy who would chase treasure no matter the cost.

"It is," he said.

Isla didn't ask for the amount, no price would be worth the freedom Raif's knowledge offered. That thought spurred her to her feet, it was time to leave. Time to see this city growing smaller in the distance. She emptied her glass and set it on the table. Jakks leaned back, and his eyes drifted over Isla's appearance. It was then she was struck with the ruination of her shirt.

"Do you have a shirt I can steal?" she asked.

Grinning, Jakks rose and crossed to his bureau. When he returned he carried one of his shirts. Thanking him, Isla put her back to him and exchanged the shirts, working to avoid rising her injured arm. She faced him, tucking the extra fabric into her waistband. Even then the shirt was three times her size and the front dipped lower than usual. This was a fact that made Jakks smirk.

"Stay with me," he said.

Even though he said it, he made no movement to get closer, still aware of the knives she wore. Isla didn't even blink at the request, only gathered her ruined shirt.

"Thanks for the help, Jakks."

As she headed for the door, Jakks moved with her.

"You could stay with me in Helix, help me find the missing Duke. We could share the reward."

Though he made the suggestion, they both knew the answer before Isla said.

"I leave tonight."

She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Jakks didn't bother following after her, instead, he leaned in his doorway, arms crossed. The light from his room backlit him, outlining his lean body.

"Marry me, Isla," he said.

There was no point in voicing a refusal that he expected, instead, she said farewell without looking back.

"Till our paths cross."

As she climbed the stairs to the deck, she heard Jakks' voice echoing the words behind her.

When Isla returned the ship, it was to find preparations were already underway. Balling up her shirt, she climbed the gangplank. On deck, Hawk stood waiting, his arms folded over his chest. His eyes dipped to Jakks' shirt, a frown cutting into his forehead. Isla accepted this greeting, knowing that it was better for him to think she had found the company of someone rather than knowing she had been attacked.

"Take this to my cabin?" she said, handing off the balled fabric to Sparrow. "Are we ready to leave?"

Hawk gave a curt nod and Isla waved a hand.

"Let's be rid of this place then."

As Hawk called out commands, Isla climbed to the stern. The crew scurried over the ship, unfurling the sails and breaking ties with the port. The ship bobbed and was picked up by the retreating tide. Orin manned the wheel, guiding them away from the dock. Isla rested her elbows on the railing, watching as the lights of Helix grew dimmer.

A sense of relief filled her, they were moving once again. The glimmer of freedom was almost strong enough to see.

**********************************************************************

Why is the rum always gone?

Ah well it's official, I'm running away with Jakks. If you want to tell me your thoughts on it go ahead but you can't change your mind, he's stolen my heart! 💭🗯💬

(Sidenote: Jakks is pronounced Jax in case you didn't know already)

I gotta say, Isla is my most violent character and that's funny since I wrote Carter and Donovan! But let's face it, the moment I decided I was going to write a pirate I had no intention of holding back. This is were all those years of watching action movies comes out.

这章的问题 (Chinese): Favorite action movie?

For me there are honestly too many to count. For instance there are all the classics like the Bourne Identity movies, but there are also the Matrix movies which are a whole different type of action.

Then there's every Jason Statham movie ever made. Finally we get to the Avengers which are wonderful in a awesome, epic superhero way!

Gosh and we can't forget  Olympus Has Fallen ones, more on the intense gore side but not lacking in amazingness. (I feel the need to put a warning in here, The Olympus Has Fallen movies are really intense)

Dang! I also didn't mention Bruce Willis which would be a major failure because he not only gave us Die Hard but Red as well!Haha can you tell I'm a little bit of an action nerd!

Vote for action, comment on how well I write it, and follow me cause I love action and will always keep writing it!