The code we follow --- chapter one (Kandomere fanfiction)
âMy name is Dove.â
Doveâa beautiful name symbolizing peace, reconciliation, and the end of conflict. Seen positively around the world and in different cultures.
The name did not represent her. Everywhere she went, she caused destruction without meaning to. Everyone she once knew turned their back on her. Rightfully soâshe was not a good person to them.
âI am twenty-one years old.â
No one believed her when she told her story. Her actions in high school affected her life in adulthood. Indebted to a stay-at-home mom who ran an underground drug business.
It sounded ridiculous to anyone who dared to listen. How can a woman who acts so innocent own an underground drug business? People ignored her husband, who made minimum wage, owned expensive brands, and got a new car every year. Their children were in a prestigious private school.
Everyone ignored it. She did not.
Both Kandomere and his partner didnât believe her. They thought the girl had fried her brain with drugs. The only pity was her appearance. She looked innocent.
Damp hair clung to her, soot covered her cheeks. Oversized clothing had been found from a box of donated clothes from the police department. Her old clothes had been indecentâtorn and dirtyâmaking Kandomereâs nose tingle from the smell.
âYou guys think I am a joke.â
Her body caved in, her back hunched in the old wooden chair. It creaked from her movement, like it begged to be retired.
âHow are we supposed to believe you?â Kandomere asked, his voice cold as it condensed toward the young woman.
Montehugh threw the file containing her crimes onto the table, proving their point as to why they should not believe her. They had no proof and could not trust her word.
âYouâve only ever caught me on unrelated charges, never drugs.â It was a poor argument. Every human had an excuse for their crimes. It never made things better for them. A better confession would help the magic task force add charges.
âIs kicking someone down the stairs exactly good?â Montehugh asked. He wasnât expecting an answer to his rhetorical question.
âI meanââ
She stopped.
Quiet. A minute too long.
âHe deserved it.â
Kandomere stepped in, pushing the ginger-haired officer away from the metal table. It was dented from fists and unethical punishments that no one ever questioned.
âDoesnât matter,â he told her, a warning in his tone.
Humans were too much trouble for their worth. Every asset, every suspect, and any human involved made his life difficult. This girlâDoveâdidnât understand how much patience he had left tonight.
Coffee and three hours of sleep for a week had left Kandomere and his partner on edge, pushing every limit they werenât used to crossing in years.
They werenât young either. It would have been easier then. Kandomere didnât dwell on it long. He turned his head, signaling to the man near him to follow.
They left the troubled adult behind in cuffs, her wrists purple from how tightly one of the officers had restrained her during the dispute. No one bothered to help her.
None thought she deserved it.
âHeyââ
Her voice cut off when the heavy door shut, silencing her instantly.
Tears filled her eyes. She couldnât believe this was happeningânow, out of all the times it could have.
âI got a minor in school!â
They had to care about that.
When she received no response, she knew it was useless.
âHer phone is blowing up with notifications.â
Kandomere turned to face the officer holding the unlocked phone. Soft, irritating pings hit their sensitive ears. Calls were left to ring until the next one came in. In between, messages were sent at a speed no one expected from a human. The sender clearly wasnât taking the hint.
He reached out and took the phone, wanting to see what all the commotion was about.
Not a second later, another call rang from the iPhone 4. The screen was crackedâfront and backâcolors bleeding between the fractures. A sharp chemical smell from marker ink made his nose wrinkle. Dead pixels flickered each time the screen lit up.
In Kandomereâs hand, the overheated phone burned against his skin.
He scoffed, low and softâtoo quiet for most humans to hear. The other species in the room turned to look at him as he held up the phone they had silenced.
âYou could cook an egg on that thing,â Montehugh chuckled. He didnât bother touching the outdated phone. It had been six years since its release.
Desperate messages continued to flood in, the device buzzing in Kandomereâs hand. Finally, he looked down and began to read.
Hey. Werenât you supposed to pick me up from school?
If you didnât want to come, you didnât have to tell me you were picking me up.
Did something happen to you? Am I going to go back to foster care? You said you wouldnât get in trouble again. You promised me.
He scrolled through the messages carefully, making sure his finger wouldnât brush against the cracked glass. He didnât need whatever germs humans typically carried.
Reading the contact name, it sounded like an elfâs name.
Nym.
âWho is Nym to Dove?â Kandomere asked.
His eyes shifted to his partner, who was in the middle of shoving a donut into his mouth. The redhead looked guilty the moment Kandomereâs cold gaze landed on him. He already knew Kandomere would lecture himâagainâabout the health issues tied to overly sweet food.
