For a moment, I think I have them. I think the fight’s already won.
But then I see it. The glint in her hand. The way the buzzing roars to life in my skull, louder than before, almost blinds me completely. But I see it. There is no doubt.
Thecompass.
She has it.
I stumble backward, the shock hitting me like a punch to the gut. It’s real. She’s holding it—the cursed thing.
Thoughts whirr in my mind. Not only does she have it. She hassailedwith it.
The words on my grandfather echo in my mind.
The moment that cursed compass stirred, the madness began, and there was no turning back.
There is no turning back now.
22
Zayan
Vinicola dives behind me like a startled rabbit, his breath coming in sharp gasps. I draw my pistol without thinking, eyes locking on the man who’s stumbled back, his dark, hollow stare glued to Gypsy’s compass like it could blow him to pieces.
“Oh god, it’s trying to kill me!” Vinicola shrieks. “What is it? A ghost? A mare? Oh, I’m going to die…”
I don’t even glance at him, keeping my aim steady, voice cool despite the chaos spinning in my head. “It’s just a man, Vinicola. Flesh and bone. Nothing more.”
Except I’m lying. Not to him, but to myself. There’s something off about this guy, something that gnaws at the back of my mind. He’s not just some pirate weighed down by too many blades. No, he’s got that kind of darkness in him, the kind that’s raw and twisted, like it’s carved straight out of the storm rolling toward us. And trust me, the armory strapped to his back isn’t helping his case.
“You…” His voice rasps out, a finger trembling just slightly as it points at Gypsy.
That’s when it clicks. He’s not dangerous because of all those weapons or that dead look in his eyes. It’s worse than that. He’s one of those men who’s already lost everything and has nothing left to fear. I’ve seen plenty like him before, men teetering on the edge, clinging to life with a bitterness that poisons everything they touch.
The kind who doesn’t care if he burns the world down while he’s at it.
One look at him and I know—he’s got no limits, no leash. That scar cutting through his eye? The desperation hanging on him like a storm cloud? It screams “unhinged.” He’s a walking disaster, ready to explode, and if I don’t stop him now, we’re all going down with him.
And I can’t have that. Not with Gypsy standing right there. Not with Vinicola being, well, Vinicola. My leg’s a mess, can barely stand on it, and Gypsy… she’s still carrying that weight from whatever mess that dream of hers dumped on her.
He could kill us all. Hell, he probably would’ve already, if it weren’t for that moment of shock that had him stumbling back. That’s the only reason we’re still breathing.
“Stand back,” I snap at the crew, finger already hovering over the trigger. Killing ain’t something I take lightly, but sometimes it’s the only way to keep breathing. I take a breath, short and steady, nerves like steel.
But then Gypsy’s voice slices through the air beside me.
“Wait!” she shouts, that rasp of hers dripping with that maddening conviction—the kind that makes me pause, even when I damn well shouldn’t.
I glance at her, just for a second, my hand steady but my focus shifting. She’s gripping that cursed compass like it’s the only thing tethering her to the world. Her eyes are wide, flicking toward the man I’ve got in my sights. She steps right, one step, then another.
Damn it, Gypsy. What the hell are you doing?
Every bone in my body knows there’s no way I’m lowering this gun. Not now. I can’t afford to give this man a single inch of freedom.
Because if I do, we’re as good as dead.
But then she speaks, and suddenly, everything turns into one big cosmic joke.
“The compass,” she breathes, her brows pulling together in confusion. “It’s pointing at him.”
