Page 18 of The Last Lost Girl

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A wet gurgle rolls from Wraith’s chest, followed by stony silence.

I blink rapidly and try to convince myself that the murder I just witnessed isn’t real. It didn’t happen. That the wetness I feel on my face – even on my eyelids – is not Wraith’s hot, sticky blood and it’s definitely not painting every inch of my skin and clothes.

My chest is tight and I can’t breathe; I won’t let myself breathe anything in.

My ankle screams as I hop backward.

Wraith is nothing more than a heap of flesh and bone at Hook’s feet now, and it’s my fault he’s dead. Even if the creep was trying to drag me to Pan against my will to save his own hide, I can’t stop the suffocating guilt that roars through my conscience.

I likely would have done the same thing if our roles were reversed and I thought Pan would kill me if I didn’t comply.

Hook lithely steps over Wraith’s body, careful of the puddle soaking into the forest floor beneath his victim, and prowls toward me, tipping his chin up as he wipes his still-bloody hook on his dark pant leg. My back smacks against the thick tree trunk a second before he stops a few inches away. He’s so much taller than me that I have to crane my head to meet his stare, which seems even colder than it was before.

“Now that you have his name and mine, I believe you owe me yours.”

I slowly shake my head. I don’t understand these men, this world, how my sister fits into it, and why Wraith thought I once did, too. But I do know I don’t owe Hook a damn thing. Even something as seemingly inconsequential as my name.

“Your name,” he says again, sterner.

I’m not giving him my true name. It’s not happening.

Resolve hardens my features and Hook watches, transfixed, as every stony inch settles into its stubborn place. I’m a Taurus. I do not play when I dig my feet in.

Surprise flits across his handsome features before he tilts his head. His dark brows arch. “You would rather have gone with him?” His pretty lips curl in disgust and he glances down at the wide-eyed dead man lying behind him before turning back to me and glancing over me, dismissing me as immediately as I had his request for my name. “Pan would have eaten you alive.”

“Please tell me that’s a figure of speech,” I force out as a cold sweat weakens my knees. I start to hyperventilate, though my chest refuses to allow any deep breaths. I try to limp closer to the tree, forgetting I’m plastered against it, and brace a hand against the trunk, trying to stave off the panic and fear. But all I can feel is Wraith’s sticky, cooling blood. It’s in my hair and I taste it in my mouth.

As soon as I grasp the reality of my situation, my knees buckle and I heave.

I haven’t eaten in so long, nothing comes up, but my stomach won’t stop trying to turn itself inside out.

Hook does not pat my back or hold my hair away from my face like every romance novel in existence would dictate he should. He looms over me and waits until I’m finished and have composed myself as best I can.

Tears stream down my face as I look at his polished, black leather boots. They’re enormous and lace to his knees.

He crouches down so I can see his face.

“Are you done?” he asks impatiently.

Unbelievable prick.

“I didn’t want to go with him, or anywhere near Pan.” Especially if he’s awful enough to instill such fear in someone who considers him family. “But you didn’t have to kill him!”

Hook’s throaty laugh catches me off guard, as does the glint in his eye. “If that’s all that’s bothering you, Precious, don’t worry. He won’t stay dead for long.”

I don’t know if I even want to ask what he means or wonder why he’s suddenly decided to become Pirate Gollum and act like I’m his shiny ring.

Wraith said something about dying before, but that’s simply not possible. It’s not. Not even here where I can’t explain a damn thing.

“Don’t call me that,” I gripe, desperately wishing Neverland would provide me with water, or Mentos, or literally anything but the taste of Wraith’s blood in my mouth.

With one hand, he hauls me against his side and stands me up, then steps away. He looks me over and smirks. “It’ll have to do unless you want to give me your name instead.”

I want to turn his hook and use it to gouge his eyes out.

He laughs suddenly.

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