Shay Patrick Cormac

The Morrigan cut through the waves like a knife, her sails billowing in the brisk wind. Shay Patrick Cormac stood at the helm, his hands steady on the wheel. His dark eyes scanned the horizon, ever vigilant for any sign of trouble.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the water in shades of orange and gold. Seagulls cried overhead, their calls mingling with the creaking of the ship's timbers and the snap of the sails.

It had been a long voyage, but they were finally nearing their destination, New York. Shay could feel the anticipation thrumming through his veins.

He glanced over his shoulder at his crew, a ragtag bunch of sailors and mercenaries, loyal to a fault. They moved about the deck with practiced efficiency, securing lines and adjusting rigging.

Shay's gaze settled on his First Mate, Christopher Gist, who stood at the port railing, spyglass pressed to his eye. Gist lowered the glass and turned to Shay, his expression grim.

"French frigate off the starboard bow, Captain," Gist called out. "Shay, she's flying Assassin colors."

Shay's jaw clenched. Assassins. The very word left a bitter taste in his mouth. Once, he had called them brothers, fought alongside them. But that was before he'd learned the truth of their creed, before he'd seen the destruction they wrought in the name of freedom, before they had made him stained with the blood of thousands of innocent lives...

Now, he hunted them without mercy.

"Ready the guns," Shay ordered, his voice carrying across the deck. "And prepare to—"

A sudden commotion from below decks cut him off. Shouts and curses echoed up from the hold, followed by the pounding of boots on the stairs. Shay's hand went to the hilt of his sword, his heart racing. Had the Assassins managed to sneak aboard his ship? Were they already under attack?

He spun around just as two of his crewmen emerged from the hatch, dragging a struggling figure between them. Shay's eyes widened in surprise.

It was a stowaway.

The crewmen hauled their captive across the deck and shoved them to their knees before Shay. He looked down at the intruder, taking in their disheveled appearance.

"Found this one hiding in the cargo hold, Captain," one of the crewmen said, giving the stowaway a rough shake. "What should we do with 'em?"

Shay's mind raced. A stowaway, now of all times? With an Assassin ship bearing down on them? He didn't have time for this.

But something about the stowaway gave him pause. He found himself intrigued despite himself. He opened his mouth to speak, to demand answers, but before he could utter a word, the ship shuddered beneath his feet. The unmistakable boom of cannon fire echoed across the waves.

The Assassins had found them.

Shay cursed under his breath. He turned to Gist, who was already barking orders to the crew, rallying them to battle stations. "Secure the stowaway in my cabin," he commanded, his eyes never leaving the approaching frigate. "I'll deal with them later."

He drew his sword, the blade glinting in the fading light. The Morrigan groaned as another volley of cannonballs struck her hull, but she held fast. She was a tough old girl, just like her captain.

Shay grinned fiercely, adrenaline surging through his body. Let the Assassins come. He would send them to meet their maker, every last one of them.

But as he took his place at the helm once more, his thoughts kept drifting back to the stowaway, to the mystery they presented. Who were they? Why were they here? Only time would tell. But first, he had a battle to win.

Shay tightened his grip on the wheel, his eyes hard and determined. "Brace yourselves, lads," he called out to his crew. "We're in for a fight."

And with that, he steered the Morrigan straight into the heart of the enemy, ready to face whatever fate had in store.