“And yet, you still hear me out,” I point out. “There must be a reason for that.”
Silverbeard’s lips vanish beneath his beard, his brows knitting so tightly it looks like his skull might crack under the pressure. A vein pulses dangerously at his temple, throbbing like it’s seconds away from exploding. And then he does something that catches me off guard—something I never expected. His body shifts, almost imperceptibly, but enough for me to notice. The hardness in his stance falters, a fraction, a flicker of vulnerability in a man I thought incapable of it. It’s enough to make me stumble, my heart racing, disbelief crashing through me like a wave.
But it’s his next words that truly knock the wind out of me.
“Do you love her?” he asks, the question slicing through the air like a blade.
I freeze. My lungs seize up. I hesitate. The words slip out of me before I can stop them.
“I don’t know,” I admit, voice rougher than ever. “But I’d burn the world before I let anything happen to her.”
His laugh is sharp, cold. Unforgiving.
“And you think that means something to me?” he snarls, each word a fresh wound.
Pain blooms deep in my chest, sharp and relentless. I should’ve lied. I should’ve said yes, given him the easy answer he wanted. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
“No,” I say, my voice barely a whisper, thick with regret. “But it’s all I’ve got.”
His hand twitches toward his gun, and for a second, my blood runs cold. His finger curls around the trigger, and for one agonizing heartbeat, I’m sure this is it. I’m dead. All because I couldn’t lie to a question that should’ve been easy.
But then, he laughs. A sound so bitter, more bitter than before. The gun doesn’t fire. Instead, he slams it onto the table with a sharp click, the noise deafening in the heavy silence.
“Fine,” he growls, his voice like gravel. “Have it your way, then. But don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve won a damn thing, boy. If anything... you just lost.”
5
Gypsy
The murmur of their voices dies out. That’s it. Their talk is over.
My palms are slick with sweat as Zayan strides out of the tavern room first, his footsteps measured, almost too composed. My father follows close behind, his face drawn tight, eyes dark like a storm still gathering at sea. No fire in them, though, no sudden spark of rage. Just... dim, like a flame that’s been left to die out.
Did Zayan really do it? Did that bastard actually sell me out? Walk intoourtavern, onournight, and betray me to my father? It doesn’t add up. He wouldn’t do that—would he?
No. He wouldn’t. I know him, don’t I? He’s scum, just like the rest of us, but there’s a code somewhere under all that grime. Crawling on his belly to hand me over doesn’t fit. But my gut screamed the moment he stepped through that door, and instincts don’t lie.
Maybe I never knew him at all.
They come closer, and my blood burns. Zayan doesn’t even glance my way, not once. I’m standing here, staring daggers intohis skull, waiting for some acknowledgment, some sign that he gives a damn. But no—his head stays down, eyes forward, like I don’t even exist.
And that’s when it hits me. Whatever I thought we had? It was nothing. Just two people circling each other, waiting for the chance to sink a knife in the other’s back.
It was just a game. A means to an end.
My heart slams against my ribs, fists clenched so tight my nails bite into my palms. Everything inside me screams toact, to confront him, to demand answers. But I don’t move. I just stand there, watching the gap between us shrink with every step he takes. Fury simmers beneath the surface, like a pot about to boil over.
Then, when he’s right next to me, his eyes finally meet mine. He holds the stare for a beat too long. And then… he fucking smirks.
That’s it.
“You bastard!” The words tear out of me, sharp enough to cut the air. The tavern goes dead silent. Every head turns. The tension spikes, thick as a noose. “You did it, didn’t you? You fucking sold me out!”
The smirk barely falters, hanging on his lips like a challenge, daring me to push further. His silence grates against my every nerve, louder than any retort could’ve been.
He told my father everything.
Silverbeard stops a couple of steps away, his gaze flicking between us. He shifts, just enough to glance at Cali—standing behind me, her eyes burning into my back. Then, he puts a hand on Zayan’s shoulder. A signal. Zayan’s not dying tonight.
