Page 91 of Freeing Hook

My heart gives a lurch, wondering if he can see the desire written all over my face. Wondering if he’s caught the glances I’ve stolen when I thought he wasn’t looking.

“If you’ll let me,” he says, staring me down, “I think I could help.”

I can’t breathe. Can’t…

“Stop me if I’m wrong,” he whispers, though the words are useless as I’m paralyzed under his touch. He brings his thumb to my temple, rubbing it in circles at a patch of my hair. “This is a cage, isn’t it?” He tucks my hair behind my ear, taking care to graze the bone behind my ear before slipping his touch to the base of my skull. “A prison you can’t escape. Do you think I don’t know what it is to wake every morning disappointed? Clinging to my nightmares, because the alternative is that I have to live yet another day chained to myself? Do you think I don’t know about the whispers?”

I open my mouth to retort, but he brushes a finger over my lips to stop me. My head spins at his touch as he shakes his head. “Just a few more moments, Darling, please. I want you to know. I know your whispers are different, that they come from the shadows. They lodge in the deepest corners of your mind, waiting to catch you alone. Waiting to ensnare you. Except that’s the worst part. Because even when you’re in a crowd of people, you’re always alone. They’re always standing between you and everyone else, drowning you silently while all the others see is a beautiful smile.”

He’s so close now, cupping my jawline in his sturdy, warm hands. His ragged breath warms my nose. Any closer and ourlips would touch, and I would know what it feels like to let my enemy kiss away the pain.

Tears run down my cheeks, and he lets them. Doesn’t try to wipe them away. Doesn’t try to erase them.

I nod my head, letting out a nervous laugh in between choking sobs.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, his thumb caressing my jaw as his gaze dips to my mouth.

“Do what?”

“Smile while you weep.”

Inside me, something cracks. And I can’t tell if it’s a bone in my chest, or my soul, or if my heart is just ripping in two—one part remaining loyal to my parents, the other taking sides with the captain. Either way, it’s a fracture I can’t ignore.

I can’t ignore that this is wrong.

He killed them. Killed my parents. Letting him touch me—it’s a betrayal. Not just to my parents, but to John, who idolized our father. To Michael, who doesn’t understand why his mother no longer sings him to sleep.

To…

I sense the absence of Peter’s ring on my shaking hand. A phantom weight bearing down on my soul. Peter, who is trapped by the Sister’s curse. Peter, who I forgot about.

When I pull away, Astor lets me go. I’m not sure if I imagine it, but I think I catch a glimpse of relief in his expression when I’m the one to stop things from escalating.

“I think I’m going to retire for the night,” I say, shrugging my coat up my neck where his touch still burns. Can he see it redden in the moonlight?

“Sleep easy,” he says, a softness tinging his voice. His hands fidget at his sides, like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

When I turn to go, his voice halts me at the mast, the wet wood slick under my fingertips. “Wendy,” he says, grabbing the crook of my elbow, though not roughly.

“Yes?” I say, my heart pounding, my mind praying he doesn’t ask me to turn around. Doesn’t ask me to stay. Because I don’t know that I have the strength to resist him a second time.

The captain squeezes me, just barely. Does he remember where he’s touching? That underneath the fabric of my shirt, his fingers rest just above the mark that signifies the bargain I made with Peter that night in the clock tower?

When he speaks again, I think I know the answer to that question. “The shadows can’t have you.”

CHAPTER 35

WENDY

It takes weeks, but Evans’s sources eventually pan out, and we get a lead that the Nomad’s community of ships is situated off the coast of a town called Zereth. Over the next few days, I throw myself into my training sessions with Maddox. Not that swordplay will be of much use against the wraiths I’ll be up against. But something about slicing through the ropes Maddox procured after I ruined the last pig carcass makes me feel as if I’m preparing.

When we finally dock in Zereth, Maddox informs me that Astor and I will be performing this mission alone. My heart falters. Astor has been avoiding me since the night in the crow’s nest. Well, I can’t know that for certain, considering I’ve also been avoiding him. Before I can inquire why Astor isn’t bringing anyone else on the mission, Maddox comes at me with his broadsword, and I’m forced to utilize my breath elsewhere.

The manwe stalk from the silky black water of the outskirts of Zereth has no face in the shadows. Just a blurry, bulky torso, silhouetted by the moonlight, and a pair of substantial arms thathe uses to row out into the bay and toward the nearby coastal town.

Astor and I huddle in another rowboat, trailing him in the mist. I’d worked myself up earlier today wondering if Astor planned to address what happened—or rather, didn’t happen—in the crow’s nest. As it turns out, stalking someone doesn’t exactly lend itself to conversation. Astor’s been quiet most of the night, a behavior I’ve been more than eager to mimic. As it is, I doubt we’ve been spotted. So far, the man has yet to check over his shoulder. He has no reason to expect anyone is following him. Perhaps that means…

“You’re hoping he won’t be worthy of being killed,” says Astor, rowing steadily behind me. I’m rowing too, but I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t doing most of the work. Water sloshes against the sides of the boat, lapping inside and wetting my shoes.

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