Hi, everyone! Thank you for deciding to continue reading this story! I truly appreciate it. You really have no idea what it means to me. I would like to thank superdeedee311 for their follow. Hopefully, I'll get more as I post more chapters. I am really excited for this chapter. I've been fiddling with it for some time and didn't know where I was going to put it in the story. I'm glad I have found it a home. Anyways, I won't keep you from what you're really here for. Enjoy! And as always, reviews/input is welcome! I also made a Tumblr page (it's on my profile ). You should go follow me on there. I'll love you forever and ever. This chapter has been edited.

Pre-curse

Azure eyes scanned the square for his next target. He would pick someone who wasn't paying attention, and the market was full of busy people. Perfect for one last swiping. He walked around, pretending to be just another cabin boy on one of the fishing vessels. The square was entirely too crowded for anyone's comfort, and he was thankful for that. Bumping into one another was just inevitable. Losing something in the crowd was even more so. He's manage to filch quite the bounty so far. One more. Just one more and that's it he told himself.

He spotted a girl a couple years younger than himself walking behind who he was assuming was her father. A leather pouch hanged from her belt, and she certainly wasn't minding where she was going. His eyes moved down to the pouch, and he swore he could hear the money inside jingling over the crowd. The best way to take her money would be to pretend he had bumped into her. She didn't seem to mind others bumping into her or vice versa. The pouch was tied rather than looped through so it would be easy to acquire. This girl made it all too easy to steal from her.

He made his way through the crowd to her; his sense of urgency trying to take. Finally across the way from her, he casually walked through the crowd. He counted the steps to her while making it seem like he was looking at everywhere else except in front of him. It took twenty steps until he bumped into her, dropping the basket in his hands. "I'm sorry! I wasn't paying attention! I'm new to the area so I'm not sure where to go," he told her. She looked up at him in bewilderment. Her eyes were wide...and striking. He shook his head. He needed to keep the act up, not get distracted by a pretty face. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I think so."

"Oh good! I'm entirely too clumsy for my own good," he laughed.

"No need to be sorry about that. There's a lot of people out today," she smiled.

His lips parted to say something but nothing came out. Her smile rendered him at a loss for words. And her voice? It was melodic and made goosebumps form on his skin. His eyebrows knit together, and she was started to walk away. Killian hadn't gotten what he bumped into her for so he grabbed her hand. "What's your name?"

"Why do you need to know my name?" she asked.

He smiled, stepping closer to her. This moment had to count or he'd come up empty handed. Not that he really needed the extra loot. He'd stolen more than enough. Something drew him to the girl standing in front of him. He assumed it was the money his hands itched to get. It was shaken loose from their collision; just wouldn't fall. "I always like to know the names of the beautiful girls in town. Just in case I come back and want to see them."

Her eyebrow quirked up at him. "Brenna."

"Well, Brenna." The name sounded fake. She didn't sound confident saying it. "It's lovely to meet you." He placed a hand on her hip, kissing her cheek. His thumb slipped under the strap of the leather pouch. It slid off with ease and landed in the basket. Picking up the basket, he flashed the girl a smile before bowing to her. "Beautiful Brenna, I hope to see you again soon."

Isabel stood there stunned as she watched the boy walk away. He was too charming to be any good. That smug little smile he gave her before leaving. His audacity to kiss her on the cheek. Those mesmerizing eyes. It took Isabel a minute before she could function properly again. She saw her father standing just a few feet from her, looking back at her. Smiling at him, she hurried over to him. There was something off about the way she was walking. The clink of her leather pouch was missing, and her gait seemed much lighter. She stopped half way to her father, putting her hand on her hip where the money pouch had been. Her eyes widened and she looked down. It was gone.

"That little shit," she whispered.

After taking one last glance at her father, she took off. Isabel knew the streets better than anyone. He had to be heading for the docks. There were several ways to get there, but the alleys were easiest. Her legs carried her as fast as they could. She prayed she could get the money back. It was enough to feed her and her father for a month. Now there was a chance it was sailing away. She had been having a good day. She and her father had made several huge deliveries. Three captains wanted swords for their crews, and her father worked tirelessly for two months to fill all of the orders.

Following one of the cleaner alleys, she was able to make it to the docks before he did. She ducked behind a few crates, waiting for her moment to pounce. She imagined this was much like what he had done to her. Scouting her out, waiting for the right moment. It sickened her to think she was duped by a pirate. The thought left an unwanted taste in her mouth, and her cheek burned where his lips pressed. Isabel was already fuming, but when he passed her, it was as if someone lit the fire. She ran from behind the crates, tackling the boy to the group. A dagger toppled to the ground next to him, and while he struggled to get his bearings, Isabel picked it up and held it to his throat. Even from behind him, she could see those vile eyes go wide with shock.

"Give me the pouch," she told him.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" To any onlooker, it would have sounded genuine, but Isabel knew better.

She pressed the flat side of the blade to his neck, "Give me the fucking pouch or I'm going to ruin your day." He continued his charade, but Isabel certainly wasn't having it. She pushed him to the ground, only to have him turn and face the blade directly. "I have been nice up to this point, pirate. Either give me the pouch or your captain will have to find a new crewman."

The boy sat up; his eyes daring her to go through on her threat. "And why should I give anything to you, princess? You were prancing about with a satchel of money, just begging to be stolen from. I won it fair so I don't see why I should give it back to you."

"First of all, shithead, I am not a princess. I am a blacksmith's daughter, and most of the time, we are poor. You stealing that money is just as bad as killing us. Do you consider yourself a man of honor?" she asked, pressing the blade closer to his cheek. Blood beaded around the top of the blade. "Or do you fancy yourself a coward? Stealing from those who work hard to earn their way through life."

"Are you asking me what kind of pirate I am?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She scowled at him. "I am asking what kind of man you are."

A grin flashed across his face. "I am flattered you think me a man. Most consider me a boy."

Isabel looked him over. He had to be no older than fifteen or sixteen. She honestly didn't care how he got into piracy or when, but something about it intrigued her. Regardless, she wasn't about to ask nor was she about to let the matter at hand drop. "Boy implies innocence to which you certainly have none."

"And you know this how?" he asked with a chuckle.

"You're a pirate," she answered.

As he was about to say anything, the sound of heavy footsteps on the wooden dock stole his attention from Isabel. The boy's eyes were drawn behind her, and she wanted to look behind her. She was just too stubborn to remove the knife from the boy's cheek. Switching hands, she held the knife firmly where it was and turned to face the clunking footsteps. A portly man dressed in all black stood behind her. His head was held high as he looked at the two teenagers in front of him. He wore a somewhat amused expression before he burst into hearty laughter. "Killian, you've found yourself in trouble I see." He looked over to Isabel. "What was his crime?"

"Who are you?" was her haughty reply to him.

"I'm Captain Harold Finnegan," he answered. "And who might you be, lass?"

"Isabel Smith. He stole a leather pouch from me, and I need it back," she told him.

"Sorry. Once stolen, there are no refunds," the captain said.

She stepped behind Killian, holding the knife to his throat again. A streak of blood ran down his face. "Then I guess I should just take what I want then. His life should do since he's stealing my livelihood from me."

"Did you earn this money yourself then?" Captain Finnegan asked.

The man was mocking Isabel. She didn't like to be mocked. Just because she was small and seemingly inconsequential didn't mean she deserved to be mocked for anything. "My father," she eyed the sword strapped to his hip and recognized the work immediately. "The man who made your sword. He earned it."

"Tell you what, lass. You have your..."

"No!" Isabel interrupted. "It was my fault that it was taken and so I must be the one to retrieve it. Now. Have him hand it over, or yourself. I don't really care. Give it back to me or I spill his pretty red blood all over your boots and it can be a reminder for you."

Something shown in the man's eyes. It wasn't compassion. It was fear, fear of losing Killian. Isabel took that to mean he viewed the young boy as a son more than part of his crew. Probably why someone as skilled as Killian did menial tasks like stealing from a crowd of people. Isabel guessed Killian had never been in a fight where his life was truly on the line. Captain Finnegan waved his hands in the air and nodded. "Fine. Let the boy up and he'll give you your money."

"But, Captain," Killian started.

"No. You chose wrongly this time, son. This is your lesson," the captain sighed. "Give her the money and get back to the ship. You're done with this place."

Isabel removed the blade from Killian's neck, and he rose to his feet. The boy towered over her, but Isabel was far from intimidated by his stature. To her, she was the scum that almost caused her to starve to death. Her father worked on commissions alone. Sometimes he would pick up farm work in the country, but it wasn't the time of year for that yet. Killian bent to take the pouch from the basket. He then grabbed Isabel by the hips and pulled her closer. His face was merely inches from her. She could feel his breath on her face, and she shuddered though she didn't understand why. Killian tied the pouch back to her belt, making sure it was tight for anyone who got the same idea he did.

"I knew your name wasn't Brenna," he smiled smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "You can back up now."

He took a step back. "I will see you again, fair Isabel. Something tells me you're much softer than you appear."