Page 132 of Freeing Hook

“He tricked me,” I whisper, filing back through every moment I’ve spent with Astor. Every stolen glance, every brush of his hand, every almost kiss. My mind screams that it couldn’t have all been a ruse to get me to fall for him, to trust him.

To follow him into a dark cave alone.

No. Astor is my friend, if nothing else. Even Maddox could see it. And Maddox is the captain’s closest friend. If he didn’t care for me, surely Maddox would have been able to tell.

If there was a moment in time when I should have realized the truth, I’m unable to find it. And besides, it’s too late.

“I’m so sorry, Darling.” His voice is gentle. Genuine. Pained, even. Or perhaps I’m simply hearing what I want to hear.

I turn to find Astor standing at the mouth between the tunnel and the cave, on the other side of the crossed vines Iaso had summoned.

His blade is drawn.

CHAPTER 50

WENDY

When Astor closes in after slicing through the vines, it’s like a predator trying not to spook his prey. He even holds his Mated hand up, placatingly. Apology shadows his eyes, deepens the purse of his lips.

At the sight of him, Iaso lets out a pained sob.

“How long?” I ask. “How long have you been intending to sacrifice me to get her back?” Astor winces, but I don’t give him the chance to respond. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? Some dark bit of magic that makes it so that the living can trade places with the dead?”

My mind races to catch up.

I gasp, realizing it’s just like the story I used to tell John and Michael. The one where the man sacrificed his wife so that she could trade places with his dead lover. His dead lover, who had been slaughtered by his jealous wife. The murderer’s life in exchange for the victim’s. It had been depicted in the Nomad’s sketchbook, hadn’t it? I’d flipped right by it, immediately distracted by the sketch of the Reaper and the Oak.

I might not have been the one to slit Iaso’s throat, but I’m the one who drank her blood. I’m the one who technically killed her.

Except the stories aren’t the same. Not really. Because I’m not Astor’s wife. I’m not even his lover.

“Wendy—”

“Were you already planning this the night in the crow’s nest? When you almost kissed me? What about all those times you practically begged me to fight back? When you locked the faerie dust up to protect me, was it so I’d feel everything about your betrayal when you finally brought me here? How long, Nolan?”

He cringes at the use of his given name, but I’m not done.

“You could have kept me locked up,” I almost shout. “You could have carried me over your shoulder, bound and unable to move. You could have been content to let me go on hating you, but no. You went and made me love you. You pretended to be my friend.”

Astor shakes his head. “If it’s any consolation to you, which I’m not enough of a fool to think it will be, I didn’t know until we met with the Nomad.”

My mind races back to my private meeting with the Nomad. How he’d offered me exclusive information about the Seer in this cave in order to bargain for Tink. How he’d put it into my head to betray Astor.

“He offered you a deal too,” I say, feeling so stupid. “That way, it wouldn’t matter if either of us failed. As long as one of us succeeded, that person could retrieve Tink for him. Me with my sway over Peter, you with the brute force of your crew.”

“And what was it that you wanted?” he asks.

I stare at the calling stone in my hands. “I was going to free Peter of his curse.”

Astor swallows. “Was going to?”

“I decided not to. The Nomad told me the Seer would only have enough magic to break one of the curses, so I was going to let you remove the Mark instead.”

Guilt washes over Astor’s face. His blade shakes, but he doesn’t sheathe it. Doesn’t cease his steady approach.

“Peter’s cursed?” asks Iaso, though Astor doesn’t appear to hear her. Doesn’t appear to see her either, likely because I’m the one who activated the calling stone.

“Yes,” I say. “He can’t feel pain.”

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