The Admiral
Humanity

Arden Lexington

As I finish signing my rank my eyes curiously drift up to James. I didn’t know what to expect, but the proud look on his face was so genuine and filled with love that it almost instantly stripped me of all my doubts and fears. I prepared myself for James to leave, I was ready for him to take his Captaincy, his new ship, and sail out of my life, but he’s still here. I glance down at the contract I just signed. Thomas doesn’t usually meddle. It seems in this case he’s deemed it necessary to step in because he’s had Giddeon draft it before our arrival. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Thomas quickly comes up behind us and takes the contract before I do something stupid like tear it up. Giddeon and Hope make their way downstairs and over to us as I resume eating. I can feel James watching me for a long moment before shaking his head in disbelief and turning to face them.

Giddeon holds his hand out for James, “Welcome to the Morning Star, Morgan.”

As they chit-chat about Morgan joining the ship and give James a new uniform as well as a book of new protocols he has to memorize, I prepare myself for what’s to come next. My mind up until now was solely focused on James all morning, but now it’s done and dealt with I have other matters that need dealing with.

While James had his little meeting upstairs Jack informed me of our losses last night and that we managed to track and captured three of the men responsible, and apparently, they’re not being very cooperative. There’s only a certain level of torture my men are allowed to exact. There are rules by which they are bound, and I’m sure Wyatt has informed them of said rules, which means these men might feel a certain level of security while they’re in our custody.

I am not bound by these rules, which means I’ve been forced to get my hands dirty on more than one occasion. It’s not a process I particularly enjoy, but it’s not one I shy away from either. With three of them, it's possible all that might be necessary to get them talking are theatrics. The fear of pain is usually enough to make a man talk.

“Giddeon,” I say between mouthfuls of breakfast. Giddeon comes over and sits next to me, “Are we stocked and ready to sail?”

“We were still waiting on some salted pork as of this morning.”

“I need you to do something for me,” I take a letter from my breast pocket that I wrote and signed a few minutes ago, “I need this to find its way to a lawyer on the island by the name of Mr. Green.”

He turns the letter over to check the address, “What’s this about then?”

“My Grandmother, it seems, needs a lesson in humanity.”

I look at Giddeon whose sea-green eyes pierce right through me, “She bought slaves for the house?” he asks quietly, and I nod. “I’ll take it myself, directly.”

Giddeon stands, but I hold his arm, “You can’t be seen loitering about Bridgetown with Wyatt’s men still about, you’re too recognizable.”

His brows knit, “I’ll be careful.”

“No Giddeon, send someone else. Wyatt knows I’m fond of you, you’re probably at the top of his list for capture.”

Giddeon’s eyes shift to the back of the room to where I assume James is standing, “Maybe second on the list after last night,” he looks back at me and raises his brows.

I narrow my eyes at him, “Are we going to have a problem? Because, you know Charlotte will gladly fuck your broken heart back together, as many times as it would take.”

The look of surprise on Giddeon’s face is so genuine I almost spit my tea out, “Charlotte?”

“Christ, you’re oblivious. Have Selvin take the letter, we’re leaving in five minutes. I want us ready to sail in one hour.”

Before we left, I had a quick chat with Hope. He’s been designing special ships for the Fleet. The ship we’re currently working on and nearing the end of construction, The Reaper, will be our weapon against Wyatt’s Dragon. Hope designed the Dragon and knows all of its flaws and weaknesses. Soon construction of The Reaper should be completed, all we need is Wyatt’s location. I don’t know if the men we’ve captured will give us anything, but I’ll do my best to extract whatever I can, especially if it means preventing any more Fleet losses. For that, I’m willing to get as messy as necessary.

We made it back to the ship without incident and by the time we arrived the last of the salted pork was loaded on, not that I care much for pork, but at least we’re stocked with enough food for the next three months.

The first thing I do is lock myself up in my cabin and take a deep breath. It feels good to be home, back on my ship, in my space. This is where I have all the control, and control makes me feel safe. As I sit down at my tiny dresser, I take a quick look in the mirror and begrudgingly pick up my comb. As I try to tame the chaos that is my hair there’s a soft tapping on my door.

“Come in,” I say and watch as Eve comes in and closes the door behind her.

“I thought you might need some help,” she comes over and takes the comb.

Eve knows I’ll be going below deck to have a word with Wyatt’s men. She looks at me in the mirror and I take a breath as she wrangles my hair.

“I am Arden Lexington, Admiral of the International Pirate Hunter’s Fleet...” I repeat the words over and over as I prepare myself.

Eve ties off my braid and places her hand on my shoulder before leaving. I take a bottle of rum from my cabinet and my usual knife of choice.

As I make my way out of my cabin Giddeon is already waiting for me. He’s the only other person here with a stomach strong enough to go with me and watch my back. We make our way to the top deck, where I take a swig of the rum.

The Morning Star is already in full sail. We’ll sail along the Caribbean for a few days, there are always pirates around these parts. We walk along the deck toward the bow of the ship, that’s where the holding cells are.

“You sure you want to do this now?” Giddeon asks as I offer him the bottle. He takes a swig.

“I want Wyatt dead. Better yet alive and we can dangle him off the bowsprit and feed him to sharks.”

“Or we could skin him alive and use his skin as a flag.”

“Drink rum out of his skull.”

“Cut out his tongue and sell him to a brothel,” I stop in my tracks and look at Giddeon. His brows shoot up, “Too much?”

“That’s the most fucked up thing I ever heard. Good one.”

We make our way below deck and towards the cells. Each of the men has their own cell and has been shackled in irons.

I take a deep breath. It frightens even me sometimes how easy it is for me to turn off my humanity.

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