5. Gypsy

5

Gypsy

T he 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 into our tavern, on our night, 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 into his 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 to act , 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.

The room tilts. My whole world tilts with it.

“Quiet, Gypsy,” Silverbeard growls, pushing Zayan forward.

But the whole scene feels wrong. My father would never touch a Marauder like that, not without reason. And Zayan? He’d never let another pirate lay hands on him, especially not Silverbeard, without putting up a fight.

“What did he tell you?” I snap at my father, my voice a low, dangerous hiss. We haven’t even scratched the surface yet, and I’m already on the edge of losing it.

Cali moves closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t,” she says quietly. “Don’t make a scene, girl.”

She’s right. Skullcove thrives on whispers, and I don’t need to hand the tavern something juicier to chew on. But I shrug her off, my eyes locked on Zayan, fury raging inside me. He doesn’t even flinch. His jaw tightens, and for a second, I think he’s about to speak. Instead, he keeps his lips sealed.

That’s all I get. Silence. Nothing.

The dagger in my thigh sheath feels like it’s calling to me. Without a second thought, I draw it and hurl it at him, fast and hard. He doesn’t even blink. Too bad it only grazes his cheek and buries itself in the wall behind him.

“Rumors are already flying,” I snarl, my voice raw. “No harm in finishing it here and now.”

“Oh, there’s harm, alright.” Cali’s grip tightens. “One you should’ve thought about before you fucked a Marauder.”

Her words hit like a slap. I tense, ready to lash out—at her, at him, at anyone. But I don’t. Somehow, I manage to control it, heart hammering, fists clenched until my knuckles crack.

Yeah, I fucked a Marauder. I crossed the line. But this isn’t about that. This is about something far more important than sex.

“You don’t understand,” I mutter. “This isn’t just about me and him.”

Zayan knew exactly how much the compass means to me. And still, he decided to twist the knife in my back, in more ways than one. I don’t know what for, but I intend to find out.

I step forward, my second blade already drawn before I realize it, and bring the tip to his throat. His eyes rise to meet mine, those same mossy green depths I stared into at the beach merely quarters ago.

His lips curl into that maddening smirk again, but this time, there’s something different in his eyes. Challenge, yes, but also something darker. Something he wants me to see, something he’s daring me to figure out. But I’m too angry to care. Too angry to think past the blade pressed against his skin.

“You that eager to kill me, huh?” His voice is low, barely a murmur, as his throat shifts against the edge of my blade.

He sounds amused, like we’re sharing some twisted joke. I hear it, but it doesn’t reach me. Cali’s grip tightens on my shoulder again, her voice a distant hiss, warning me to stop, to pull back. But it’s only when Silverbeard grabs my wrist, that I finally blink, the red haze lifting just enough to realize what I’m about to do. What I’m really about to do.

“Enough, Gypsy,” he growls, yanking me away. “Do you want to start a war?!”

Cali mutters under her breath, cursing as she signals to Sizzle. He rises from his table, stomps over and starts shouting for people to clear out. I hesitate, the dagger still tight in my grip. I won’t turn a blade on my own father.

War. No, I don’t want that. But…

Silverbeard’s grip tightens again. “Answer me!”

“Captain, the people…” Cali glances around. The more reason one gives people to doubt them, the weaker their power becomes. This spectacle is not good for anyone, not Serpents, not Marauders. Not even the reputation of the mighty Silverbeard alone.

My father doesn’t seem to be fazed by it, though. Not right now, at least. His grip on my wrist pulses as he forces my hand down.

“Let them talk,” he replies, his eyes piercing my soul. “You won’t be stopping any of it anymore. Too fucking late for that. Now, answer me, girl.”

I grind my teeth, throat tight. “No. I don’t want a war.”

The words taste like acid. Yet, they ring out all the same.

Silverbeard nods once, but his gaze doesn’t soften. “Good,” he grunts, releasing my wrist. “Then act like it.”

I swallow hard. My hand trembles, still clutching the dagger, but I sheath it, forcing myself to step back.

“Not long ago, you threatened to kill him as a spectacle for the whole village,” I point out, a new wave of betrayal washing over me.

In the background, the tavern begins to clear, people retreating to their corners, eager to escape the storm they’ve just witnessed. But I can still feel their stares, lingering like smoke. Who am I kidding, though? If anyone’s making a spectacle, it’s me.

Silverbeard waits for the last of the crowd to slip out before turning his focus back to me. His hand moves slowly as he pulls his pistol free and presses it against Zayan’s head.

“I don’t give a damn about this lad,” he says, voice low. “You know that, girl. My crew... and you—that’s all that matters to me. If I wanted a war, I’d put a bullet in him right now and make my point clear. But maybe a war’s unavoidable after what you’ve done. Maybe I should, in fact, start it myself.”

My throat tightens, dry as the salt-crusted deck beneath my feet. Zayan stands frozen, not a single twitch. Neither do I. It’s one thing to consider killing him myself—but to watch a bullet rip through his skull right here in front of me? That’s something else entirely.

Do I want that?

Fuck. I definitely don’t want the war .

“Wait,” I blurt out, stepping forward, my heart hammering in my chest. “What did he tell you?”

“He told me just enough, Gypsy. Enough for me to know where your heart’s been wandering.” His face is hard and long, his nostrils flared, his bushy eyebrows so close to his eyelids they look like his lashes instead. “That you grew tired of your father’s ways.”

“That so?” I ask.

“Damn right.”

“And you believe him?”

“Still undecided,” he quips, eyes flicking to the side. “But what I believe doesn’t matter anymore. You see, it’s the people. They fear us. Worship us because we protect them. That’s why they give us their gold. But when the protector doesn’t seem worthy of their trust anymore... they find another. And I sure as fuck won’t stand by while they turn to Roche and his bloody Red Ones. Your stunts today give them enough reasons to do that, Gypsy girl.”

My heart stutters. If word spread that Silverbeard’s Serpents were slipping—if we are slipping—there might be blood on the water before sunrise. Roche wouldn’t waste a second to seize an opportunity like that.

But it goes both ways, doesn’t it? Roche didn’t manage to control Zayan either. I’m not the only one that invited chaos in.

“You can shift the people’s attention. You’re perfectly capable of making them believe whatever you want,” I wager.

“No, lass. I make them believe what they want to believe. And that’s a difference.“ He takes a deep breath, cocking his head to the side and looking me down. “I’ll ask you a simple question. Did you buy the cursed compass from Old Betty today? Yes or no.”

Cali gasps. Gibbons chokes on his rum. Sizzle stops midway on his walk to the balcony again. I... I simply stare at my father.

“I don’t see… how that’s relevant,” I mutter, my gut twisting like a snake.

“Face the storm head on as I taught you, girl,” Silver booms, his voice louder. “Quit dancing around it.”

My mind spins, my pulse a wild drumbeat in my ears.

Fuck you, Zayan. Fuck you and your treacherous smile.

“No,” I bite out. “I didn’t buy it.”

“The boy says otherwise.”

“The boy is a liar .”

Silverbeard’s eyes narrow, the pistol still pressed against Zayan’s skull. “If what you say is true, then this boy deserves to meet his end for sowing discord among the Serpents,” he says. “But you must first prove to me that he lies.”

The crew gathers closer, their tankards gripped tight, eyes flicking between me and my father. But they’re watching me more than him. Of course, they do. They want me to strip down my belongings and empty my pockets.

I can already hear it—the things they’ll whisper about me behind my back once this is all over. A traitor. A skunk. A whore. They might be my idea of family, but loyalty to Silverbeard runs deeper than blood. They’d turn on me if it meant protecting him or their own necks.

My jaw clenches tight. “Innocent until proven guilty, right?” I snap back. “Isn’t that how it is?”

“It is the way I say it is,” Silverbeard declares, and his voice demands I obey. There’s no room for defiance. “And I say you prove the compass is not on you.”

I can feel the blood drain from my face. He’s not going to let this go, and with so many eyes watching, there’s no room to maneuver, no chance to hide what’s already mine.

I’ll be exposed.

My mind races, searching for a way out. I look to the side, pretending to look the crewmembers in the eyes. I already begin to map the layout of the tavern, check the windows, memorize who’s standing in the way.

I just need to redirect everyone’s attention to Silverbeard. I need them to glance at him, distract them from watching me so carefully.

Sure, lying to your own crew, your family, is a dick move. It’s also the only thing I’m willing to do. That, alongside running away from here and doing what I had planned all along—take this damn compass to the seas and making a name for myself.

But before I can speak, Zayan’s voice cuts through the tension. All plans I didn’t even manage to make fall apart.

“It’s in her pocket,” he reveals. A hint of smugness marks that raspy, scratchy voice of his. A hint of smugness, and a hint of shame. “The compass is in her right pocket.”

That fucking bastard… That conniving, bottom-feeding piece of shit.

“Empty your pocket, Gypsy,” Silverbeard says. “Do it now.”

With a shaking hand, I sheathe my blade and reach into my pocket. The compass feels impossibly heavy, as if it’s grown denser in the last few minutes. As I pull it free, holding it up for all to see, a collective gasp ripples through the room. Cali’s is the loudest, Silverbeard’s a low, guttural sound of disappointment.

“So it’s true,” Cali whispers, her voice thick with disbelief. “You bought the cursed compass... you foolish girl.”

The room vibrates with murmurs, crew members shuffling nervously. Even Ben’s face pales, his eyes wide as he stares at the object in my hand as if it’s a viper ready to strike.

“I didn’t buy a cursed compass. I bought a broken compass. That’s it,” I say, hating how my voice quivers a little. I need to lift my head up high and show no fucking fear. Instead, I quiver . “You just believe tales, all of you.”

“It’s no tales if they’re true,” Silverbeard growls. “Then, they become the truth.” His pistol lowers from Zayan’s head, the tension easing slightly. “You’re free to go, boy,” he says, his voice cold. “Be off with you before I change my mind.”

Zayan casts me one final glance before slipping through the door without a word. How easily he walks away, as if none of this means a damn thing to him.

One thing is sure. If I get out of this alive, I’ll hound after him myself.

“What now?” I spit out, the compass cold in my grip as I turn back to my father. “You plan to flog me for possessing a piece of metal?”

He’d never flog me—he doesn’t have the heart for it, and the crew would never stand for it. Not for me. Not for his daughter. But today, something’s changed, and the crew is watching like they’ve already decided my fate.

“Perhaps a flogging would teach you a lesson,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “But it won’t rid you of that cursed trinket, will it? And it won’t extinguish the fire in your eyes.” His gaze drops to the compass in my hand, then back to me. “No, I won’t flog you. Instead, I’ll give you a choice.”

I force myself to stand tall.

“Leave that cursed thing behind, or you won’t be calling yourself a Serpent come sunrise.”

My breath catches. “What?” The word barely escapes my lips, strangled by disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

But his face says otherwise.

“You heard me, girl. We’ve had our differences. You’ve made your share of mistakes, and I’ve let them slide. But this? This is the line. I won’t risk the Lady’s wrath for your recklessness. So you decide.” His voice sharpens, every word cutting deep. “What matters more—your place on this crew, or that damned compass?”

I glance around at the faces I’ve sailed with for years—men and women who have fought beside me, bled beside me. They approve of this.

Even Cali does. “You heard the Captain, Gypsy,” she murmurs, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Make a choice.”

I take a breath, then another. By the third, I already know. I’ve always known. But now, I have to drag that truth out from where it’s been buried.

“I won’t leave it,” I find myself saying. “I’ve earned it. It’s mine.”

“Then you’ve made your choice.”

I’m allowed one last entrance onto Medusa’s Gaze before they cast me off.

The familiar creak beneath my boots sends a twist through my gut, even though I try to ignore it. This ship isn’t just wood and sail; it’s been a part of me for as long as I can remember. I know every inch, every knot in the planks, every quirk in the rigging. The ship and I have been through hell together.

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.