Page 28 of The Last Lost Girl

“How could he manage it?” Hook sharply demands. “How could he get word off the isle at all?” The coldness in his tone startles me and makes my heart race even faster than it already is from this fairytale interrogation.

Smee considers the question and answers with a shrug. “I don’t know. But if Pan has found a way around his restrictions, we need to know it.”

“And sever it,” Hook adds, which immediately elicits the memory of Wraith’s ravaged throat.

Smee closes his eyes and rubs their corners.

“What is it?” Hook asks him.

“If the magic that bound him is failing…” Smee muses somberly, dropping his hand and looking at Hook.

“It hasn’t failed entirely, or he would’ve been able to enter the water and come after us. Unless it’s weakened and he’s testing its new boundaries.” Hook curses. Loudly. And tugs his silver crook free of the wood.

“Or he doesn’t want you to know,” I offer. At his surprised look, I hold up a hand and quickly add, “Not that I know anything about any of this. I’m just thinking out loud.”

Smee smears a hand over his mouth. “What if she’s not the only one?” He aims at the captain.

Hook considers the possibility for a moment, then looks back at me. “Did you land alone?”

“I didn’t see anyone else.” Except Belle.

“Send Juneau and Kauai ashore to sweep the east, and Surat and Kingston to the west,” Hook tells Smee. “Also, would you ask someone to clean her things?”

“I can do that,” I protest, not wanting my clothes to be out of reach, let alone my sight.

Smee waves me off. “Cairo said he’d tend them. And he’s the best at getting blood stains out.”

“I don’t mind. Really,” I try to keep the desperation out of my tone. Hook already has my phone – which I intend to steal back as soon as possible. I don’t want him to have my clothes and shoes, too. I’m grateful to have something to wear while Wraith’s blood is scrubbed out of my clothes, but I don’t want to wear this dress any longer than I must.

“You need to rest your foot,” Hook says. Nodding again to Smee, the gentle giant folds up the partition and places it back where it belongs before bending to gather my clothes and shoes. He pinches the string of my olive green bikini top in his fingers, pausing to inspect it as if it’s a serpent that might bite him.

Has he never seen a bikini?

“It’s just a swimsuit.”

Smee quickly nods and strides out of the room, shutting the doors behind him.

A laugh rumbles from Hook’s throat. “Not any swimsuit we’ve seen on Neverland, I assure you.”

His accent is so familiar, but I can’t quite place it.

“Your crew… they’re nicknamed after places,” I note.

He nods and absently rubs the inside of his forearm where a patchwork of scarred lines peek from under the unrolling sleeve of his shirt. But he doesn’t explain why they decided to call each other those names.

“You still haven’t given me your name,” he says pointedly.

I’m well aware of the fact, and I still don’t want him to have it. If he’s fae and the romantasy books are right, he could control me just by speaking it, and I am not puppet material.

Hook smiles when I remain silent. “Precious it is, then.”

“What will your crew think when you call me that?”

Hook’s eyes darken. “Oh, I think the term alone will let them know you are very dear to me.”

“Only because I’m dear to Pan,” I grump.

“Which means everything.”

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