Chapter 28: Dockside Truce
The docks stank of fish and rust, waves slapping the piers as I pinned Denis with a glare that could split steel.
I gripped the knife handle so tight my knuckles ached, rage trembling through my fingers. "Good men don't survive in Edenville, Denis. And if Paul's tied to them—even a little—you'll wish I only came at you with this knife."
Denis's face paled, his usual swagger shrinking into the misty morning air. "Ella, I—"
"God, I should just kill you," I muttered, voice low and sharp as broken glass. "But you're too damn useful. You could've just sent me a text—something simple like, 'Heyyy, nothing suspicious… but you might be getting a new dad soon.'"
I slammed the knife on a crate, the clang ringing louder than the gulls above. "But nooo—you let her fall for a guy named Paul. I just hope he's not a Saul."
Denis opened his mouth, but I held up a finger, silencing him. My chest felt tight, heat crawling up my neck. Dad's laugh, his blood pooling on cold pavement—it all flashed behind my eyes. I dropped onto a crate, shoulders heavy, the hum in my chest softening to a low, restless throb.
"Fuck…" My voice cracked, and I hated it. "Am I overreacting?"
"Yes," Denis said instantly, a little too confidently. My glare cut across the docks like a blade, and he had the nerve to flinch.
"You think this is funny?" I hissed.
He raised his hands. "No, kid. Just… yeah, you're overreacting."
I let out a long, ragged sigh. "Maybe I should let things go. Just because I'm not happy doesn't mean others don't deserve to be. I'm just… paranoid. My life's a mess, Denis. I don't do emotions. Every time I try, it feels like I'm failing him—failing Dad."
Denis's usual smirk faded. He stepped closer, boots scraping against rusted metal, his tone softer than I'd ever heard it. "Kid, listen. It's okay not to be okay. After everything you've been through… hell, most people wouldn't even still be standing. You're strong as hell. And you deserve to be happy too. You hear me?"
I clenched my jaw, forcing down the lump in my throat.
"You're my favorite," Denis added, voice firm now. "And if this Paul guy does turn out to be one of the bad guys… I'll kill him myself. No hesitation."
That cracked something in me. A dry, humorless laugh escaped, surprising even me. The hum inside me flickered, almost… calm.
Denis shrugged like it was no big deal. "Relax, okay? Give new things a try. You might actually find what you're looking for… or something even better."
Something shifted in my chest, a hairline fracture in the Female King's armor. Before I knew it, I stepped forward and hugged him—quick, awkward, desperate. And even more shocking? Denis hugged me back.
Warm. Solid. Real.
I pulled away first, cheeks burning hotter than I liked. "Sorry," I muttered.
"It's fine, kid," Denis said, flashing a rare, genuine smile.
I grabbed my bag, adjusting my jacket like armor. "God, I can't allow myself to get soft. Nope. That's how you get killed."
But as I walked away, the hum stayed quiet, a steady, unfamiliar pulse. Denis was right. Maybe—just maybe—I should give this a try. Who knows… I might find what I'm looking for. Or something even better.
I slipped the burner phone from my pocket, fingers brushing the knife handle for comfort. The Female King didn't trust easy, but Denis's words wouldn't leave me. Maybe happiness wasn't weakness. Maybe it was fuel.
By the time I got home, Mom's sobs still echoed through the apartment. I paused outside her door, listening, my hand hovering over the knob. The hum told me to walk away. So I did.
In my room, I shut the door, leaned back against it, and whispered to the empty air:
"Fairy tales don't exist… but maybe truce does."