The Black Buccaneer - Chapter - 35

The open sea had a way of transforming people.

Some men crumbled under its merciless waves, while others were reborn by its freedom.

Angelica Rivera was the latter.

From the moment she set foot on the Sea Whisper, she had made it clear—she wasn’t going to be just another kept woman aboard a captain’s ship.

She wanted to learn.

And she did.

Faster than anyone expected.

At first, the crew watched with skepticism.

A woman learning to sail?

A woman handling the cannons?

A woman wielding a cutlass?

It was unheard of.

But Sirius knew potential when he saw it.

He had spent centuries watching men and women rise and fall, and Angelica?

She was rising faster than most.

“Keep your stance wide, but your grip firm,” Sirius instructed as Angelica stood on deck, cutlass in hand.

She narrowed her eyes, adjusting her footing, her fingers tightening around the hilt.

Sirius lunged at her, their blades clashing in the moonlight.

She parried—not perfectly, but well enough to keep herself from getting disarmed.

“Better,” he admitted, tilting his head.

Angelica smirked, breathing heavily. “You sound surprised.”

Sirius twirled his blade, stepping closer. “I knew you were smart. I didn’t know you were this fast.”

She lunged at him this time, forcing him to sidestep.

The crew watched with amusement and intrigue, the whispers of their duel spreading across the ship.

“A woman wielding steel better than half the men I know,” one of them murmured.

“Captain must have seen something in her,” another muttered.

By the second month, they weren’t just watching her learn—

They were learning from her.

And by the third month, she was Sirius’s official First Mate.

Angelica didn’t just earn respect—

She demanded it.

The men, who once doubted her, now followed her without question.

She wasn’t just the captain’s woman anymore.

She was their leader.

She handled the cannons with expert precision, training new recruits to fire accurately at moving targets.

She practiced swordplay daily, to the point where few could best her in a duel.

She studied maps until she could navigate by the stars alone.

And she spoke with authority, not just because of her title—

Because she knew what she was doing.

But despite all that, there was one thing the crew envied most of all.

At the end of every night, no matter how long the day had been, Angelica always returned to the captain’s cabin.

To his bed.

And the men who had once lusted after her, who had once whispered crude remarks when they thought she couldn’t hear—

Could do nothing about it.

Because she belonged to no one but Sirius Black.

And Sirius?

He had no intention of letting her go.

One night, as the ship sailed toward Port Royal, Angelica stood on the deck, staring at the sea.

Sirius approached, standing beside her, his hands resting against the railing.

“You’ve come far,” he murmured.

Angelica didn’t look at him, but he could see the smirk tugging at her lips.

“And yet, you’re still the captain.”

Sirius chuckled. “You want my ship, Angelica?”

She turned to face him, her dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“One day.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, amused. “Ambitious. I like that.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear.

“Then you should be careful, Henry. Ambition can be... dangerous.”

Sirius smirked. “So can you.”

Angelica pulled back, laughing softly before walking away, leaving him watching her—

And grinning like a man who had just met his match.

For Angelica Rivera, the world had always been small—confined within the stone walls of a convent, where her life had been dictated by prayers, rules, and quiet obedience.

She had never known riches. She had never touched silk, never tasted the finest wines, never slept in a bed so soft it felt like sinking into a cloud.

Until now.

Because now, she was no longer Angelica Rivera, the convent girl.

She was Angelica Rivera, the woman of Henry Creed—the wealthiest merchant captain in Port Royal.

And she was mesmerized by the life he lived.

The estate of Henry Creed was vast, larger than anything Angelica had ever dreamed of.

The gates were tall, adorned with golden accents. The courtyard was sprawling, with neatly trimmed hedges and a fountain that sparkled under the Caribbean sun.

The house itself was a mansion, with white pillars and grand balconies, a structure fit for nobility rather than a simple merchant captain.

And yet, that was exactly what Henry Creed was—a man of wealth and status, draped in silk and power.

Angelica walked through the halls, running her fingers over polished mahogany tables, gold-framed paintings, and chandeliers that glittered like the stars.

It was beyond anything she had ever seen.

The bedroom alone was larger than the entire room she had once shared with three other girls in the convent.

The bathtubs were filled with rose petals.

The mirrors were so clear she could see every inch of herself.

And the servants—people who were always waiting at her call, bringing her food, dressing her in fine clothes—were something she never imagined having.

She had spent her entire life being told to serve others.

Now, people served her.

And she was drunk on it.

Sirius watched with amusement as Angelica adapted far too quickly to luxury.

She wrapped herself in silk robes, lounged on the balcony with a glass of expensive wine, and ordered the servants around with a confidence that would put noblewomen to shame.

At night, they attended lavish balls, where Angelica danced in gowns that hugged her body like a second skin, turning heads wherever she went.

And Sirius?

He let her.

Because he liked watching her transform.

The innocence of the convent girl was gone.

She was one of them now—one of the powerful, the wealthy, the untouchable.

And he loved every second of it.

One evening, Angelica stood on the balcony of the estate, looking out at Port Royal, bathed in the golden glow of lanterns.

Sirius stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Enjoying yourself?" he murmured against her ear.

Angelica tilted her head back, smirking.

"Is it that obvious?"

Sirius chuckled. "You're practically glowing."

Angelica sighed, looking at the ships docked in the harbor.

"I never thought I would have this. Any of it."

Sirius kissed her bare shoulder, smirking. "And do you regret it?"

She turned to face him, her eyes dark with amusement.

"No. But I’m beginning to wonder... how much more I can take."

Sirius grinned. "As much as you want."

Because wealth, power, luxury—none of it had limits.

Sirius had always been an excellent judge of potential, and Angelica?

She exceeded even his expectations.

Under his guidance, she had learned the ways of the sea—

How to read the winds.
How to command a crew.
How to wield a cutlass with deadly precision.
How to fire a pistol with the accuracy of a marksman.

And now, she was more than just a student.

She was a force to be reckoned with.

Whenever the Sea Whisperer set sail, Angelica was in command.

She steered the ship through storms, navigated uncharted waters, and fought off pirates who dared to attack.

She was ruthless when she needed to be.

And the crew?

They respected her, not just because she was Henry Creed’s woman, but because she had earned it.

She was faster than most men with a blade.
She was smarter than half the captains in the Caribbean.
She was deadlier than the rumors claimed.

And every time the ship returned to Port Royal, she had another victory to boast about.

While Angelica ruled the sea, Sirius ruled the trade routes.

He spent weeks at a time in Havana, managing his vast sugarcane and tobacco plantations.

His ships transported tons of goods to Spain, France, and England, earning him more gold than he could ever spend.

He bribed officials to keep his operations smooth.
He bought land to expand his empire.
He invested in ships, making sure his fleet remained untouchable.

And the best part?

No one suspected a thing.

To the world, Henry Creed was an honest merchant, a man of noble standing, a captain who never dirtied his hands with piracy.

But in the shadows, he still was Captain Black—the nightmare of the Caribbean.

And whenever he missed the sea, he had Angelica.

His fearless, beautiful, deadly captain.

The perfect balance.

For now.


The wedding of William Turner and Elizabeth Swann was the talk of Port Royal.

The Governor’s daughter, marrying a man of humble beginnings, had caused quite a stir.

But Elizabeth was in love, and her father had finally accepted Will—thanks, in no small part, to Henry Creed, who had given Will land, wealth, and respectability.

The ceremony was grand, held in the Governor’s mansion, where the elite of Port Royal gathered in their finest silks and jewelry.

Henry Creed and Angelica Rivera stood among them, watching as Will and Elizabeth exchanged their vows.

Angelica’s eyes glowed with admiration as she took in every detail—the flowers, the music, the gold-trimmed gowns and suits, the cheers of the guests.

And for the first time in her life, Angelica wanted something more.

She turned to Henry, whispering, "I want a wedding like this."

Henry raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Do you now?"

Angelica nodded firmly, her hand tightening around his.

Henry had lived a long life, had seen centuries of love affairs, fleeting romances, and passionate nights—but none of them had ever made him consider marriage.

But Angelica?

She was different.

And maybe, just maybe, after all these years, it was time.

The night after the wedding, Henry and Angelica stood on the balcony of their estate, overlooking the twinkling lights of Port Royal.

A gentle breeze rolled in from the sea, carrying the salt of the ocean with it.

Henry leaned against the railing, watching Angelica’s face, soft in the moonlight.

“You want a wedding like that?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice.

Angelica turned to him, her eyes serious.

“Yes.”

Henry smirked, taking a sip of his rum.

“And who do you plan on marrying?”

Angelica arched a brow, folding her arms.

“You, of course. Unless you have other plans?”

Henry chuckled. "You’re not exactly the convent girl I met in Seville anymore, are you?"

She grinned, stepping closer, running her fingers along his shirt.

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

Henry exhaled, looking at the stars above them, then back at the woman who had become the most important thing in his life.

And for the first time in centuries, he did something he never thought he’d do.

He pulled out a golden ring, one he had taken from his personal vault, a treasure that had been sitting there for years, waiting for the right woman.

And he held it out to Angelica.

“Marry me.”

Angelica stared at the ring, her breath catching.

Not because she was surprised—

But because she had never imagined how much she wanted to hear those words.

She smiled, taking the ring, slipping it onto her finger.

And without hesitation, she whispered, “Yes.”

For the first time in centuries, Sirius Black was no longer just a pirate, no longer just a merchant, no longer just an immortal wizard.

He was a man who had chosen a future.

And he had chosen Angelica Rivera.


The night was silent, save for the distant echoes of the church bell ringing through the convent’s stone corridors.

A place of peace, faith, and prayer—

Until he arrived.

Captain Edward Teach stepped out of the orphanage, a bloody cutlass in hand, his dark eyes gleaming with fury.

Behind him, his men dragged trembling girls into the streets, their cries muffled by the chaos, while the nuns lay slain, their habits soaked in blood.

The candles inside the convent flickered as the fire spread, smoke rising into the night sky.

The once-sacred walls of the convent were now desecrated, defiled by a pirate’s vengeance.

And Edward Teach?

He stood in the center of it all, unapologetic, unmoved.

Because this was not just revenge.

This was justice.

For years, Edward Teach had poured his wealth into this convent.

Gold, jewels, protection—everything they needed, he had given them.

And in return?

They had thrown out his daughter like a beggar, abandoned her because she loved a man.

A man named Henry Creed.

A man he did not know.

A man he needed to find.

Teach turned to one of his men, wiping the blood off his blade with a torn piece of cloth.

“Where is she?” he growled.

One of the surviving girls trembled, her lips quivering. “She—she left with Henry Creed. To the New World.”

Teach's grip tightened on his cutlass.

"Then that's where we go."

His men cheered, their boots crunching over the corpses as they made their way back to the ships.

The flames of the burning convent reflected in Teach’s eyes, but his mind was elsewhere.

He needed to see Angelica with his own eyes.

He needed to see what kind of man Henry Creed was.

And if his daughter was unharmed and happy, then perhaps Henry Creed would live.

But if he found out otherwise—

Henry Creed would wish for a fate worse than death.