Page 2 of Freeing Hook

I’d huddled in the small cot, wrapping myself in blankets that smelled of mildew and salt, unable to sleep with how violently my body was shaking from the events of the day.

It soon became evident that terror wasn’t to blame for the shaking.

I’d made it three hours, judging by the clock on the wall, before I tiptoed out of bed and slunk into the belly of the ship. The ship that, according to the captain, was powered by faerie dust on occasions when the wind failed to drive the sails. I’d only meant to take just enough to calm the tremors, to keep the shadows from encroaching on my vision—the same dosage Peter’s been giving me to keep me sane. To prevent me from waking in the middle of the night in a panic and strangling my brothers. Once the faerie dust touched my lips, however, I’d craved more than a disciplined alleviation of my symptoms.

I’d wanted to erase myself from my own body. Just for a while. Or forever. I’m not entirely sure which.

“Do you often call it generosity when you kidnap women?” I ask, deflecting if only because I can’t bear to admit my loss of control to the captain.

Captain Astor turns those piercing green eyes on me, the golden ring looped through the pointed tip of his left ear glinting. “Do you know where we found you? While you were off enjoying your little jaunt?”

“In the rafters of the bunker, I assume.” I clutch the interior of the blanket someone’s wrapped around me, so the captain won’t sense my nerves.

He offers me a close-lipped smile. “If only. No, Darling. We found you tangled up in the anterior moonsail.”

My heart plummets out of my chest, my mouth going dry. “I’m assuming that one’s on top.”

“Very good, Darling.”

“But I took the faerie dust in the bunker.”

“It appears as though someone, in her drugged state, decided on an outing.”

Sweat breaks out on my forehead, though I can’t tell if it’s from fear of the captain, or what could have become of me, or if it’s just the effects of the faerie dust refusing to wear off.

There’s a predatory stillness to the way the captain watches me. An intentionality that betrays a learned restraint. “Tell me, do you enjoy the idea of falling?”

I bite my lip, memories wafting over me. Peter dancing with me through the sky. His challenge to let him drop me. The “yes” escaping like a ravenous plea from my lips. “Only with someone around I trust enough to catch me,” I say, hoping the words will cut. It’s a foolish notion, given I’m the one who’s made myself look like an idiot tonight.

The laugh the captain lets out has to press through his teeth. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be so reliant on the assumption that this someone cares enough to catch you.”

His words twist at the already lodged splinter in my chest, one I’ve tried to claw out, only to snap off the tip instead, leaving my fumbling fingers helpless to remove it. Peter’s voice returns to my mind.What’s in it for me?That’s what he’d asked when the captain wanted to steal me away.

But Peter doesn’t feel pain. I’d realized that was the curse the Sister had placed upon him. So that if he needed to eliminateany of the Lost Boys for going mad, he could kill those he loved without the burden of pain.

“It’s not his fault he’s the way he is,” I whisper under my breath.

I’m not sure the captain would gaze upon a slug with more disgust than he casts at me.

“You’re lucky one of my gunners couldn’t sleep and happened to be on deck at the time. Though you’d have been less lucky if she hadn’t called for help. Couldn’t quite keep a grip on you with you flailing like a surfaced fish. Not when she was trying to hold on to you and sidle down the mast at the same time.”

I roll my eyes, and though the movement is foreign to me, I find it cathartic. “And I suppose I have you to thank for rescuing me.”

Astor shifts on the bed, and I can’t help but notice how my muscles tense when his hip grazes my thigh, even with the blanket separating us. “You do have a tendency to idolize those who put you in harm’s way. So no, I wouldn’t be surprised if thanks found its way out of your lips.”

My stomach curdles, anger threatening to add to my trembling, but I worry the captain will interpret it as fear, so I dig my free hand further into the mattress underneath the sheets to steady myself and say, “I’ll thank your gunner should I get the chance to meet her.”

At that, the captain’s lip twitches upward. “Good. I’m fond of Charlie, though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention as much to her.”

Something stings in my stomach at his words, but I refuse to acknowledge the implications of such a reaction. Instead, I roll my head toward the chain shackling me to the bed.

“This doesn’t seem necessary now that I’m no longer floating, don’t you think?” I ask.

The captain snorts, crossing his arms and revealing a muscled divot in his forearms, bare up to the cuff where he’s rolled his sleeves. “I gave you a chance to walk freely about my ship, and look how that turned out.”

“I won’t do it again. Believe it or not, the idea of floating away and finding myself tumbling into the depths of the ocean isn’t exactly palatable.”

“Is it not? I wasn’t sure, given your affinity for danger.”

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