Chapter 8: Demands
Elena stirred, the heavy fog of sleep clinging to her like the damp air of a morning harbor. For a blissful second, the silence felt like home—until the cold, metallic hum of the floorboards vibrated through her heels. She sat up, the reality of the black-sailed behemoth she was trapped on crashing back into her mind. Through the reinforced glass of the porthole, the muffled sounds of the crew drifted in: raucous laughter, the clinking of metal, and the rough, melodic shouting of men who lived by no law but the wind.
She rolled her eyes, pushing off the bed with a groan. Freedom felt like a distant, glittering dream, but a sharp, rhythmic rapping at the door snapped her back to the present. Elena winced, her hand flying to the hilt of a knife that wasn't there.
"Who is it?" she called out, her voice projecting a confidence she didn't entirely feel.
"Kai," came the low, steady reply.
Elena took a breath, smoothing her hair before sliding the bolt back. The door swung open to reveal the captain. The hallway light caught the jagged line of the wound she’d given him—a raw, angry streak of crimson that mapped a path from his forehead down to the line of his jaw.
An awkward, heavy silence stretched between them. Kai stood there, looking less like a marauding captain and more like a man who had forgotten his rehearsed speech.
"I wanted to check up on you," he said, his brow furrowing as he looked her over. "Ask how you were... but I suppose that’s a bit of a conversational dead end, isn't it?" He let out a short, awkward chuckle, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
"Oh," Elena murmured, her eyes involuntarily drawn back to the injury. It was deep; she knew that even when the swelling subsided, a permanent mark would remain—a ghost of her defiance etched into his skin. "I’m sorry. Is the scar going to be... permanent?"
"I've gone through worse," Kai assured her, leaning slightly against the doorframe. There was a flicker of something playful in his dark eyes as he watched her. "A little souvenir to remember our first meeting."
"Have you really?" she asked, leaning back. "Gone through worse, I mean."
"Occupational hazard. I suppose it’s a pirate thing," he said with a shrug.
"I suppose," Elena nodded quickly, her guilt battling with her common sense. "Well, I really am sorry for causing it. I don't usually go around scarring people's faces."
Kai let out a genuine laugh this time, his gaze softening as it lingered on her. "A pirate steals you away, hauls you onto his ship, and tells you your life is a lie... and you're the one apologizing for a little scratch?" He grinned, shaking his head. "You’re far too polite for your own good, Elena."
She couldn't help it; a small giggle escaped her. "And for a pirate and a kidnapper, you’re surprisingly well-mannered. It’s confusing."
"Well," he leaned in just an inch closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hum, "you are helping me a great deal. It pays to be on your good side, even if your 'good side' involves a blade."
Elena felt a flush creep up her neck, but she pushed past the fluttering sensation to the question that had been eating at her. "Are you sure this 'myth' is real? That I'm actually... who you say?"
"I am certain. I found the lock to the treasure of the deep, and only you possess the key."
"What makes you so sure it's me? I'm just a girl from the plains."
"My findings, my connections... they all lead to the same bloodline," he said, his expression turning serious. "You are the last of the Lockes. The only remaining descendant of Flynt Locke."
Kai sighed, the weight of the secret clearly heavy. "Your father died in the Great War before you were born. He was a soldier, a man caught in a conflict bigger than himself. And your mother..." He paused, his voice softening. "She died bringing you into this world. Jackson and his wife, Amara, took you from the orphanage shortly after."
Elena looked away, her throat tight. "Amara... she was wonderful. She died of a Spanish illness when I was still young. I miss her every day."
"I am truly sorry," Kai said, and she could tell he meant it. He studied her face—the light olive tone of her skin, the constellation of freckles across her nose—and saw the silent grief shimmering in her dark brown eyes. To him, she looked like something fragile yet unbreakable, a dove caught in a storm. "You’ve lost so much."
"Amara was kind," Elena whispered, blinking back tears. She gave a sharp nod, trying to regain her composure. "Jackson... he can be harsh. Cold, sometimes. But he saved me."
"He seems like a man of many shadows," Kai remarked, his eyes lingering on her lips for a second too long before he cleared his throat. "Regardless, we are landing soon."
Elena blinked, surprised. "I thought we were days away from the coordinates."
"We are. We're stopping at a port to restock. Food, fresh water, the essentials."
"By stealing them?" she asked, arching a skeptical eyebrow.
"Naturally."
"Can't you be normal for once?" she challenged, a spark of her usual fire returning. "Just walk into a market and buy what you need like a civilized human being?"
Kai gave her a look of pure amusement. "Elena, do you forget who you're talking to? Look at the flag. Look at the crew."
"You are a pirate. I am not," she snapped back, crossing her arms over her chest and standing her ground. "I don't believe in taking things that don't belong to me. It's wrong."
"It's our way of living," he countered, though he seemed more charmed by her defiance than annoyed by it. "The world takes from us; we take back."
"Well, if I’m going to help you find this 'legacy' of yours," she said, narrowing her eyes and stepping closer into his space, "the stealing stops. Consider it a condition of my employment."
Kai looked down at her, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. "A hostage making demands? You really are a Locke, aren't you?"