Page 63 of The Last Lost Girl

“Maybe you didn’t pay attention to how –”

“I would have noticed,” he insists, cutting me off. Hudson snaps the case closed.

My breath hitches when he hooks the neckline of my t-shirt and stretches it toward him. His calloused finger brushes my skin as he lets the charm fall, hidden beneath the fabric. Then at my nape, he tucks the chain in, too. “Keep it hidden as best you can. Don’t let Pan or any of the Lost Boys see it. Toss it or bury it if you’re found.”

Won’t he be with me? Is he afraid we’ll both be discovered?

“Why?” My ribs tighten. “What will happen if they take it?”

“Nothing will happen to you or the watch, but Pan would be infuriated if he saw it around your neck.”

“Is it his?”

Hudson winks, a dangerous glint in his green eyes.

My lips part. This is a terrible idea! I reach for the chain beneath my shirt and his hand darts up, fingers curling around mine as he draws it down to my side. “I don’t want it,” I declare.

“Precious, do not take it off unless you are found. If you step foot onto Neverland without a charm, you will be hunted. How quickly did Wraith find you?”

I sigh. I was slow to get up after smacking into the island, but it didn’t take Wraith very long at all.

When he holds my hand for several long breaths and then peels his fingers away, something inside me claws toward him. Something I don’t understand. I can’t be this attached to someone I barely know and have only just met, I tell myself. It must be this place, combined with Belle’s absence. It’s fear.

“What about you? Won’t you need a charm, too?”

“I took Cairo’s,” he says, his words strangled.

“Can I have his instead?” I ask.

“Cairo’s charm also belonged to Pan. That’s why he claimed it, according to my journals. At one time, it was Pan’s second most prized possession.” He pulls a thin gold chain from his pocket. From it dangles a silver thimble.

I nearly choke. “From Wendy?”

“From Wendy,” he confirms, smiling cruelly. “Belle tore it and the acorn pendant off his neck. I wish I could remember it. I would give anything to remember the look in his eyes when she took it and his precious cache of shadows…”

I don’t want to ask and don’t want to hurt him, especially when the wound is so fresh, but I need to know. “How did Cairo die?”

Hudson stares at the map and carefully considers his words. “When you and I found him in front of the shop, he was on his way to visit a friend he made years ago, but he couldn’t remember anything – not the man’s name, his face, or where he lived. He only knew that he was supposed to go visit someone.”

I remember how frustrated and afraid Cairo was.

“That’s where I took him. When his friend answered the door, Cairo struggled to remember him at all, but the man told me he remembered Cairo and he would remind him and make sure he was back at the ship before dawn. Nothing seemed amiss. Cairo had always been welcome at his home.”

He clears his throat. “From what we’ve pieced together, it seems that at some point, his friend forgot that he’d invited Cairo into his house. Forgot who Cairo was to him and thought he had broken in to rob him. They got into an argument that turned into a fight that spilled outside. By the time Milan and Kingston caught word of it, it was too late. Cairo’s friend had busted his head against the edge of the wooden walkway in front of his house. His skull was broken in the back. The wood didn’t split the skin, so there was no blood, but you could feel the broken bones afloat atop his brain.”

My stomach turned. “I’m so sorry.”

“The worst part is that I had a feeling while we were standing in the foyer of the man’s home that I shouldn’t leave Cairo there. Something told me to stay while they visited and see him back to the ship myself.” He licks his lip. “Then when you suggested I go and check on him and bring him back to the ship, I didn’t. I’ll regret that for the rest of my days.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Hudson,” I tell him just before someone knocks on his door.

“Seoul is ready,” Smee informs us before ducking outside again.

Hudson looks me over, his eyes snagging on the red t-shirt. “Your shirt and shoes won’t blend into the jungle.”

I pluck at its hem. He’s right. “Can I borrow one of yours?”

He walks to a trunk and throws the lid open. “Everything I have will be too big for you,” he says, scowling at his options.

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