They produced fine rum, islands far and wide,
Off to meet a planter, on the ocean’s tide.
But the sea was cruel, with a heart so grim,
It took his parents, leaving only him.
They drowned in the depths, lost to the roar,
Leaving the boy alone, on a distant shore.
He stayed there for years, on that lonely strand,
Enduring the trials, by fate’s cruel hand.
Until one day, with a raft built so clever,
He sailed back home, looking changed never.
Ten years had passed, the boy should be grown,
But he returned just the same, as if time had not flown.
The staff took him in, the heir to the land,
The estate left in shambles, now under his hand.
He walked through the halls, with memories in tow,
The walls whispered stories, of those long ago.
Yet his heart—“
“Enough,” the man says, stopping me. I close my mouth, my lips snapping shut as the final lines hang, unsaid.
“Well, that’s a first,” I murmur, trying to salvage my pride.
“No way,” Zayan growls. “He can’t be that.”
Fabien’s gaze doesn’t waver. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink. He’s unnervingly still, his expression as unreadable as the sea in the dead of night. Slowly, he shifts his eyes to Zayan, locking onto him with an intensity that makes the air feel too thin.
“Believe whatever you like,” Fabien says quietly. “But the story you just recited is mine.”
I shift awkwardly.
“Don’t lower your gun, Gypsy,” Zayan murmurs. “Let’s kill him before he tries to kill us again.”
Fabien’s lips pull back into a twisted grin, baring his teeth. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Relax, cripple,” he spits, and there’s enough venom in his voice to make even me flinch. “I won’t hurt any of you. Not anymore.”
Wait—what? Did I hear him right?
I blink. Twice, maybe three times for good measure. We’re all frozen like we’re all collectively too stunned to process whether this is a good thing or the prelude to something much, much worse.
We’re frozen, but naturally, I’m the first to speak. Curiosity, as per usual, strikes again.
“Sorry, could you run that by me one more time?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Why exactly won’t you hurt us?”
Fabien’s glare could burn holes through wood. He’s looking at me like I’m slow, but hey, I’ve never been one to keep my mouth shut when confusion’s on the table.
