Natasha’s POV

My cap flew off, short curls whipping around my face as I stumbled over rocks. But the fog swallowed everything in seconds, reducing visibility to mere feet. I couldn’t see the shore, couldn’t see the path—

Davelina’s hand found mine in the whiteness, fingers locking around my wrist with desperate strength.

That’s when I heard it.

A sound like nothing in nature. Part growl, part breathing, but underneath, something that might have been words in a language no human throat should produce. Heavy footsteps. Multiple sets. Moving with purpose.

“Oh God,” Davelina whispered. “Thomas was right—”

The black ship materialized like a phantom made solid.

Exactly as Thomas had described—massive, easily three times the size of any fishing vessel, with a hull like charred wood. No sails. No oars. No visible crew. But I could feel eyes watching.

Shapes emerged from the fog.

My bladder almost let go.

They were huge—easily seven feet tall—with bodies caught between human and beast. Thick fur covered muscular frames, and their eyes reflected light like animals. They wore rough-sewn hides and carried iron chains that clinked with each step.

One of them—mottled grey fur on his shoulders—spoke in English. But his voice was wrong, too deep, with an undertone of snarling.

“Two human females. Lucky day.”

Davelina screamed. She tried to run, pulling me with her, but it was like trying to outrun a storm. Another creature cut off our escape. His hand—more claw than hand—closed around Davelina’s arm, and she cried out.

“No!” I lunged for her, but other hands grabbed me from behind, lifting me off my feet.

The one holding Davelina tore at her collar with casual brutality, examining her exposed skin. She fought, kicking and clawing, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

“This one’s quality,” he grunted. “Fair skin, right age, no obvious damage. Premium breeding stock.”

Breeding stock. The words made no sense.

Another creature turned toward me, and terror locked every muscle. He grabbed my chin with clawed fingers, forcing my head up. I stared into eyes more animal than human. He barely glanced at my face before dismissing me with disgust.

“Just a boy. Labor crew is all he’s good for.”

He thought I was male. My binding, my clothes, my short hair—he’d mistaken me for a boy.

Before I could process that, cold iron bit into my wrists. He wrapped chains around me like cargo and started dragging me toward the ship.

“Natasha!”

Davelina’s voice cut through my shock. She was fighting to reach me, but the creature yanked her back with bone-jarring force.

Then a massive hand shoved me forward, and I lost sight of her in the fog. They hauled me across the beach, my feet barely touching ground.

The black ship’s hold was hell made real.

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