Malcolm Mondragon, captain of the pirate ship, Seawing, was not having a good day. He was in the process of facing a bloody [i]mutiny[/i]. On [i]his[/i] ship. He was livid, to say the least.

The trouble began an hour ago when his quartermaster, Cade – a bloodthirsty, ambitious cur, but an efficient and obedient sailor (current circumstances made Malcolm [i]strongly reconsider [/i]that description) – had walked into the captain's quarters unannounced. Apparently it'd been of dire importance, because that was an offense normally punishable by tying him to the mast for 12 hours. The captain didn't mess around with privacy.

But as soon as Cade had opened the door, both he and the captain froze, looking at each other wide eyed. The captain was normally very careful about his look. The crew only ever saw him in several layers of clothes, a knee-length, bulky, crimson cloak over it all. A wide brimmed hat over dark, thick hair. An embroidered black and gold scarf tied around his head, pulled low to cover a missing left eye. Scars reached out from under the scarf, jagged and ugly, marring freckled brown skin. The longest one cut straight over his nose, ending under his other dark eye. 

But then, Captain Mondragon stood before Cade, long hair tumbling free of its hat, coat thrown across his bed, and only one layer, a thin undershirt, covering the top half of his body. And under that shirt, were very obvious, very [i]feminine[/i] curves. 

And so, the secret that Maia Mondragon had been keeping for the last six years so carefully, came unraveled quicker than she could blink.

An hour later she was standing on the edge of a deck, back to the churning sea and hands bound tight behind her. Her wrists were already starting to turn raw from them. A storm had been brewing all day, and now had finally come to fruition. The sky was as dark as Maia's eyes, her hair whipping in the harsh winds. Rain poured down, drenching them all. The crew was standing in a jeering mob before her, Cade in front of them like the leader he'd always wanted to be. He'd exposed her to them, whipped them up into a frenzy about the deception, how they needed to be able to rely on each other, and how the recent string of bad luck they'd had had been her fault – punishment for the crime of having a woman aboard the ship. And how quickly they had turned on her. 

Cade stepped before her, his expression serious, but the unmistakable glint of victory in his eyes. He reached forward and grabbed the scarf tied around her face, slowly pulling it off and revealing the scarred patch of flesh in place of her eye. The crew shouted and yelled in approval to see their lying captain in full. 

Maia kept her head held high and didn't react. She had always been the smallest member of the crew, short and without bulk to her, but still solidly built. She'd always made up for the size disparity with sheer presence, and she mustered up all of it that she could now, as she stood exposed and shamed. Her eye was locked on Cade's, dark and hateful as the storm.

[color=coral]"Sleep well tonight,"[/color] She finally said. The sound of her voice, higher than they had ever heard it since she was no longer deepening it to keep up the charade, was soft and threatening. A few of the men had the good sense to blink through the haze of their frenzy and actually look worried. Woman or not, there was a reason why their captain had earned the epithet of the Sea Dragon. That soft, almost gentle voice might as well have been a thunder crack in the storm. [color=coral]"This will be the last night of peace you ever know."[/color]

She was going to come back for them, rip them to shreds, and use them for bait on her fishing line, like the worms they were. Even if she died tonight, in the churning sea, her rage at this betrayal would find them again.

[i]"And peace to you, my captain,"[/i] he answered. Then he raised a hand and shoved her back. Maia went tumbling into the ocean below.