My fingers drag along the worn railing as I head to my quarters, the scent of salt and leather hanging in the air like ghosts. I always knew I’d leave—planned for it,—but not like this. Not cast off like some damned stray dog. It should’ve been on my terms. My choice.
This… this feels like a loss. A punch in the gut I wasn’t braced for.
I pause at the door to my quarters, fingers tight on the frame. I can feel the eyes of the crew boring into my back, watching like I’m a threat. Like I haven’t spent twenty years on this deck, under these sails, in this very room. Now I’m just an outsider. Fine. Let them think what they want.
With a sharp breath, I shove the door open. I go straight for the chest in the corner, pulling out the old duffel bag I stashed for a moment like this. My hands work on on their own—clothes, keepsakes, and the knife I’d strapped under my bed—the one for emergencies.
I knot the bag shut, slinging it over my shoulder.
“This is it, huh?” I mutter, locking eyes with Cali, who stands just outside the room. Her jaw is tight, her eyes narrowed. I can feel the anger coming off her in waves, even though she keeps her mouth shut.
She thinks this is my doing. I made the choice to go against Silverbeard’s orders, to get tangled up with the enemy. I fucked one, for hell’s sake. Of course, Cali thinks this is what I deserve. But it still feels like a betrayal, and I can’t shake that. A part of me thought she’d understand.
I should’ve known better. Cali’s loyalty to the Serpents and Silverbeard runs too deep. After what she went through during the war with the Marauders, it’s no surprise she’s not standing by me now.
She folds her thick arms across her chest, her mouth pulling into a hard line. “You know the rules,” she says, voice clipped. “You’ve got until dawn. If I were you, I’d be gone long before that. There’s a lot of anger on this ship, girl. Too much for your damn good.”
There’s a grunt of agreement from a couple of the crew nearby. Threats.
But I’ll be damned if I allow them to scare me off like this, like I wasn’t one of them all this time. Like I’m not a pirate myself.
“Anger’s never been my problem,” I say, sharp and cold. “I know how to deal with it.”
“Not when it’s your own crew calling you a Marauder’s whore.”
I refuse to flinch. I fucking refuse to let her see the sting.
“Better to be a whore for a man,” I murmur, stepping past her, “than for a goddess who doesn’t even exist.”
Cali’s face twists with disgust, and I can practically hear the air leave her lungs in a sharp hiss. I see it in her eyes—the hurt, the anger—but also the fear. That’s what it always comes back to with Cali and the rest of them, isn’t it? Fear of what The Lady might do if they step out of line.
She steps toward me, towering like she always does. “You’ve lost your damn mind, Gypsy. After everything we’ve been through—“
“Enough,” a voice cuts her off. Silverbeard.
The tension shifts instantly. The crew, ready to explode just a second ago, falls silent. Even Cali backs down, though her glare stays locked on me.
I don’t bother turning to face him, but I can feel him moving through the crowd.
“You got something to say, old man?” I ask, my voice flat but carrying enough bite to show I won’t bow to him—not even now.
“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” he replies. To my surprise, a hint of weariness creeps into the way he says it. That dimmed fire shows in him again.
“I’m not the one making this hard,” I mutter. But when I turn around and notice the storm in his eyes, my own fire dims as well. This man raised me. He taught me everything I know about surviving, about the sea. I remember when that white beard had streaks of black in it.
“You made your choice,” he says.
I did. But so did he. He chose a goddess who’s done nothing for the crew but feed it fear. I could say that aloud, but what would be the point? It won’t change a damn thing.
So, I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. “And I won’t regret it,” I whisper, glancing one last time at him, at the crew, at Medusa’s Gaze. Then I turn and head for the gangplank.
I step off the ship and onto the dock, the sea breeze hitting me like a slap in the face.
Two things I know for sure: I’m not losing that compass. It is mine and I’ll sooner die than lose it now. And two? If I ever see Zayan Cagney again, he’s as good as dead.
6
Gypsy
