Tides of deception ✺ Outlander/Stephen Bonnet Fanfic

♤24. Portobelo🕷

The low murmur of voices and the sharp clank of weapons filled the ship's hold, mingling with the flickering light of lanterns swinging overhead. Stephen gathered his crew around him, the tension in the air palpable. Maps and charts were spread across the table before him, their edges curling in the humid warmth of the evening. The air was thick, like the anticipation that seemed to seep into every corner of the room. Maria stood just behind him, her fingers white-knuckled as they gripped the edge of her belt, feeling the cold weight of the pistol Stephen had given her, its presence both reassuring and terrifying. Her heart beat erratically in her chest, a mixture of dread and adrenaline settling deep in her gut.

Behind her, Justin shifted uneasily, eyes darting nervously from one man to the next, his body language stiff, as if he feared any movement might draw attention. Declan stood near a post, arms crossed, nodding in understanding as Stephen laid out the plan with a voice that was both calm and calculated, though it carried the tension of a man who knew the stakes all too well.

"We've got two Royal Navy ships with us," Stephen said, his voice steady, though there was a flicker of intensity in his piercing blue eyes. "Declan, ye'll take your men and hit the east side of the fort once we're within range. Captain O'Malley," he turned to the older pirate with the weathered face, his eyes sharpening, "ye'll draw their attention on the south. Once we've got their focus divided, we strike."

His gaze turned to the horizon outside the ship's window, eyes narrowing as the first hints of dusk painted the sky. His voice dropped, more to himself than anyone else. "We take the fort."

Maria could feel the weight of his resolve in the air, a thick pressure pressing on her chest. She glanced at Justin, who looked as though he might bolt at any moment. His voice was hesitant when he spoke. "And once we're ashore?"

Stephen's sharp gaze turned to him, unwavering. "Ye survive, Justin," he said, his tone unflinching. "That's all that matters."

The men chuckled nervously, but there was no mistaking the grim understanding in their eyes. This raid was not going to be easy. The grimace on Maria's lips deepened as Stephen met her eyes for a fleeting second, the only acknowledgement that she, too, was involved. Her hand tightened around the handle of her pistol, uncertain if it was to calm herself or prepare for what was to come.

✺

The ship surged through the waves, slicing through the darkened waters, its sails filled with the promise of destruction. The fortress of Portobelo loomed ahead, barely a silhouette against the twilight sky. The tension aboard was almost unbearable, a crackling energy that thrummed under Maria's skin. She stood at the bow, her body taut with anticipation, her fingers brushing the cold steel of the weapons secured at her side. The wind howled around her, pulling at the loose strands of hair that whipped across her face. She was aware of every small movement-the creak of the ship, the distant, familiar shouts from the crew, and, most of all, the presence of Stephen beside her.

He stood just to her right, his posture straight, gaze fixed on the horizon with a focused intensity. There was a cold determination in his movements, a quiet power that radiated from him. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his neck taut as if he were preparing himself for the carnage ahead. His voice was low, almost a murmur, but it still carried the weight of the situation. "It's a sight, isn't it?"

Maria nodded, forcing a tight smile as she fought to calm the storm in her chest. "It is."

The sea was calm, but the ship's movements felt as though they were edging toward the edge of chaos. Behind them, the Royal Navy ships cut through the water like shadows, deadly and unyielding. Declan stood at the helm of his ship, his mouth set in a grim line. Captain O'Malley, older and grizzled, stood near the mast, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes cold but focused. The ships seemed to breathe as one, their movements synchronized, as if they had already decided their fate.