Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 27: Do What You Must

Keaton

Robbie rolled the cigarette between his fingers in the shelter of his coat, tucking it behind his ear as we watched the rusted fishing boat approach. I gave Robbie a look, tilting my head toward the vessel.

“Looks like only a fishin’ boat, Cap.”

“Aye, but in such shallow waters, and in this storm?” I turned my head to look back at the shore of the small cove that was currently our refuge from the raging open waters. Rain was pounding the decks, bouncing off the wood panels and rolling off the sails above our heads. The thick trees hanging over the sandy cliff face were inundated with rain, their thick leaves hanging toward the murky green water.

“She’s headed right for us, Cap.”

I sighed, smacking my lips and pushing away from the railing, giving the approaching ship one last look before clapping him on the shoulder. “Guess we’ll see what her crew wants then, shall we?”

I descended the stairs to the lower deck, nodding at my crew as I passed them. We were anchored, the sails drawn in and the crew at leisure, at least for the moment. We would not be docking in Valoria tonight, not with twelve-foot swells preventing us from crossing the channel.

Young Pete stood at the lower railing, watching the ship with a pair of binoculars as it rocked in the waves, “They’re dropping a rowboat!” His voice was edged with excitement as he leaned over the railing.

“You’ll fall in,” I said, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him off the railing. “That’s a right way to die, lad.”

“I was just-” He paused, forgetting himself. “Yes, Captain.”

I patted him on the chest and turned toward the railing, watching as three men began to battle the waves in the small skiff, their oars beating helplessly against the unforgiving sea.

“No shifting on the boat, remember?” I turned to Young Pete, the newest member of our crew. He nodded, his head bobbing up and down as he did so. He was just a pup, really, freshly twenty-one and full of the angst and adrenaline all young men possessed when they finally came into their powers. I never took pollywogs so young, but Pete had nearly begged on his knees for the opportunity.

Looking for his mate, most likely. What better way to find a mate than by mopping floors on a smuggling ship for a few months?

I turned to Robbie, my second in command. He was leaning on the railing, watching the three men struggling to close in on the Persephone.

“Should we go out and help em’,you think?”

“No,” I said dryly, wiping rainwater from my brow. “We’ll only lower the ladder for them when they get close.”

hell did

nearly an hour to reach us, all of them red-faced and steaming with heat

reached into the pocket of his coat. He was an “Old Salt,” someone who had been working on ships for the majority of his life. He walked like it, talked like it, and had the signature deep tan of someone who spent their days working in the salty, harsh reflection of the sun coming

his belt, holding it out in front of him. The two younger men

a damp parcel out of his coat, holding it up in surrender. “Someone paid a pretty penny to

the post.” I took the parcel from the old man as I looked around at my crew, who were standing in a semicircle around the three men. Muffled laughter rang out, drowned out by the rain.

old man nodded to his companions to heed my orders and they reluctantly followed the crew through the wide doors leading to the lower levels of the ship. I motioned for the old man

you got here,” the man said, looking up to admire the murals painted on the ceiling of my spacious lodgings. His eyes danced over the gold painted trim and ceiling-high bookshelves. “First editions?” he asked

kind of pirate would I be if

this ship. I assumed it was all an exaggeration. A real pirate ship on the seas, huh? You don’t exactly blend

27: Do What

One of the port

man came into the pub in the early evening asking about the Persephone, when you’d make port. Paid a steep price to have one of our ships come out in the storm to find you.

I answered, using my fingernails to open the soggy parcel. There was a paper napkin inside, crumpled and the ink smeared

but four

it in my pocket. It was from Troy. He was

napkin, was written in panic, the pen he had used poking holes

here. They’ll make port by tomorrow morning. They plan to invade. Don’t get involved, cut your engines and stay hidden. Stay in the waters

the galley. You and your

door leading out of the captain’s quarters. “I gotta get back before the dock is swarmed with the delayed boats. I’ II let em’ eat then we have

their leave. Troy never acted out of panic, never. He was as level-headed as they come. Something was about to happen though; I could feel it coming through the words in his note as

drawer and pulled out a small sack of coins and gems, picking a few coins out of

from the rain with my hand as he walked across the deck and through the doors

doors, I motioned to Robbie, who was still standing near the railing, watching the fishing vessel rock in the waves roughly a half mile from where we

I quickly locked the door behind us, squeezing the water from

plans,” I said quickly, reaching for and unrolling a large map

the desk, looking

moving

his brow arched as he followed my finger along

here,” I pointed, running my finger along