Catfishing the Captain

Knox had two choices in front of him.Option one: swear to his ancestors that Aaron was cheating.Option two: accept defeat with some level of dignity.He wouldn’t outright admit it, not here, not now, but he was in deep shit.He watched Aaron, his supposed best buddy and roommate, in the most grandiose fashion, flick his ginger curls out of his face, slap his cards down like the second coming of Christ, and flip themIt was a fucking royal flush.“Fucking hell,” Knox muttered.The four men around the table burst into howling, unattractive laughter, filling the smoke-clogged room with testosterone and noise. Knox’s right leg bounced under the table. He was analysing, recalculating, and still coming up empty.Sweat trickled down his temple. Every pair of eyes in the room was on him, and every one of them gleamed with cruel amusement.He’d been set up.There was no way out of whatever sick, twisted dare Aaron was about to throw his way.He was thoroughly screwed.“Give it up, man,” Aaro

Sandra: Oh! You're a marine! That's so manly. But isn't it dangerous?Victor: Not really. It’s more paperwork than anything else. We’re on the sea most of the time, avoiding enemy waters, so it’s pretty chill.Sandra: That made you ten times more attractive to me. It’s funny, but I feel like you hold an important position, too.Victor: Yeah. I’m the captain.Sandra: That makes so much sense. You looked like you were the boss of something in your pictures. Are you a good captain, though? Take good care of your men?Victor: Pretty much. I listen to my men, keep everything in order, and do what I have to do.Sandra: You sound like a gentle, understanding person.Victor: You seem to have me figured out already. I’m gentle—in every way that counts. Trust me.Knox’s face slammed into the ground so hard it rattled his brainstem. The impact hit him straight through the cerebral cortex and fired down his spine like lightning, turning every nerve ending into a live wire. He groaned, low and gut

Knox slammed the door with the force of a goddamn landslide."Fuck!"It tore out of him like a shot, bouncing off the steel walls. His lungs burned with it. He kicked the edge of the bunk hard enough to make the whole frame shudder.Aaron didn’t even flinch.He was sprawled across his bed, one hand on his phone, the other casually scratching his chest. Looked like he hadn’t moved in hours."What the hell happened to you? You look like someone just shoved a pipe up your ass.""Victor," Knox spat, pacing like a caged animal.Aaron snorted. "Ah. So pipe confirmed."Knox ignored him. His fists clenched. Jaw grinding. His whole body was shaking like a live wire of contempt."I want to put his face through a concrete wall.""I wanna burn his skin off every inch of his body. God, do I hope he stops breathing in his sleep. Fucking cold-hearted piece of sh—""Stop talking," Aaron said sharply.Knox kept pacing, seething."That son of a bitch doesn’t give a fuck about us. He rerouted the entire

Victor would admit he’d been overbearing. Sandra’s plight was steeped in emotional distress, and a logical solution was the last thing she needed. Four hours had passed since their brief conversation before his phone finally buzzed. He wouldn’t have blamed her for ghosting him, not after his stellar display of unpalatable insensitivity.Dominance was second nature to him. So was handing out unsolicited advice like orders. Now, self-loathing hummed in his chest as he typed up reports in his office, his phone lying too close for comfort. His fingers moved across the keys at a clipped pace, but his mind barely tracked the words.He glanced at the device more often than he wanted to admit. Victor didn’t have much experience with women, but the handful of short-lived relationships he’d had gave him a basic idea of how they operated.He should’ve just taken her side instead of rationalising her boss’s behaviour. But his bad habits had done the driving, and now he’d probably ruined a good th

His fist swung forward, smashing into the punching bag with full force. The rigid surface rattled through his arm, bruising his bare knuckles. He drove his other fist into the bag hard, pouring into it every ounce of anger simmering through his veins. Again and again, he repeated the motion, the pain searing through his flesh, a pain he welcomed. He needed it, or else.His arms felt like they were being pulverised. His knuckles were bloody, but the sheer, unyielding rage inside him needed an outlet.Knox.That son of a bitch. That sly piece of shit.There were lines you didn’t cross. There were things you didn’t even think of doing. How the fuck had the man even conjured up something this heinous?