Page 59 of Kidnapping of a Myth

“Tick Tock, Detective,” Pann said, rolling up his sleeves, and for the first time, she noticed a pocket watch tattoo on his left forearm. The detail was impeccable, and the design consumed a large swath of skin. None of the police reports had documented it, but Eamon had taught her just how convincing makeup and prosthetics could be. Peter Pann had been purposely concealing this tattoo, and suddenly his words made sense. This mark meant something. It had been worth hiding, and as Bel took dangerous seconds to study it, she realized why The Tinker had never revealed his trinket. There was something… off about the black ink. It shimmered faintly in the light, as if it was a living and breathing thing etched below his skin, and a warning blared in her brain. She couldn’t place why it scared her, why it felt important, but before she could determine why the clock’s image forced her heart to race, Pann was moving.

“Tick Tock, little officer. Time for you to fly to Neverland.” He seized her by the throat. “It’ll be like you never existed.”

He lifted her off the ground, but instead of fighting his hold, Bel grabbed his forearm and dug her nails into his skin. She’d got them professionally done for the wedding, the tips strong and long, and she dragged them over his flesh until the claw marks bled. Her fingers marked his tattoo, and the second her nails carved the welts into his arm, Pann’s demeanor changed. He transformed from a professional contract killer to the devil himself, and he roared as he flung her across the room. Bel hit the storage rack hard, and as she collapsed, she knew she wouldn’t be getting back up. The pain was absolute. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe, and he would kill her before she could push herself off the cold floor.

Pann stared at her gasping form and grabbed one of the knives that had spilled from the drawers. He spun it expertly in his fist, and then he met Bel’s terrified gaze. The tattoo shimmered below the bloody welts, and as Bel wheezed her final breaths, he lunged for her.

Seconds before the knife cut through her soft skin, a monstrous growl vibrated the air, and like a shadow, a massive form slipped protectively before her. Eamon’s hand shot out and captured Pann by the throat, and he hoisted the man high into the air, his feet dangling helplessly as he choked.

“Not her.” Eamon’s voice was venom and hellfire. Gone was the millionaire, an angel of death in his place. “Never her.”

And with a simple twist of his wrist, Eamon Stone snapped Peter Pann’s neck.

Bel’s gaspslipped accusingly beneath Eamon’s skin as the crack of Peter Pann’s neck echoed off the galley walls, the sound of death a resounding mark against him if her shock betrayed her true feelings. His entire body stilled until he was more stone than man, and for silent moments, he kept his back to the detective lying behind him. He’d been on his way to the deck with a safe John and an aching but bound Henry when he heard her screams of pain. Pure terror had electrocuted his heart, threatening to still the organ that had beat for centuries, and he almost blacked out as he raced through the passageways. All he knew was one second Pann had a blade aimed at Bel’s throat, and the next he was dead. He should have restrained him for Bel to arrest, but seeing that knife destroyed his self-control. Hewanted Pann dead. For what he did to children. For what he was about to do to the love of his life, and in his rage, Eamon killed their defeated enemy in front of an officer of the law. Judging by Bel’s gasp, he was afraid he’d lost her. In theory, she knew what he was, but she’d never witnessed the murderer he kept buried within. Could she forgive him for ending a life so easily?

Eamon lowered Pann’s body to the floor, and as the corpse’s left arm fell sideways, he noticed the pocket watch tattoo. He also saw Bel’s scratches, and he bent to examine the ink. Lifting the design to his nose, he inhaled. The scent confirmed his suspicions, and he smirked in spite of himself. Smart girl. His detective had figured it out even if she didn’t fully understand it.

Bel’s breathing changed, and Eamon could no longer ignore her. She was in pain, her very human body battered and breaking, and he needed to get her to safety. Even if she hated him after this, he wouldn’t let her suffer. Without a word, he scooped her up and cradled her against his chest. He strode out of the galley, leaving Pann where he lay unceremoniously among the chaos.

“Let’s go.” He gestured for John to follow. “Leave Henry. He’s bound. He isn’t going anywhere.”

John nodded, eyeing Bel with fear-soaked eyes, but he remained silent as they made their way to the deck. Eamon located a jet ski and shoved it into the water before grabbing John’s biceps.

“Hold on,” he ordered as he swung the teen onto his back, and then Eamon climbed onto the vehicle, cradling Bel with one arm as he guided them to the dock with the other.

“John!” Wendy and Michael screamed when the trio finally reached dry land, and they captured their brother in their arms, exploding into violent sobs.

“Mr. Stone?” Agent Barry raced for them, an army of agents at his back. “Is Detective Emerson all right? Peter Pann escaped FBI custody earlier?—”

“He’s dead,” Eamon interrupted. “And Henry Knight is Hook, but he’s restrained on the yacht.”

“Dead?” Barry stuttered as he stared at the bruised Bel. “Oh god… is she?”

“Alive,” Eamon said without breaking stride. “She’s alive.”

“She saved us,” Wendy added as the group rushed for the closest ambulance. “She fought Pann to give us a chance to escape.”

“She’s a hero,” Michael said.

“Did she kill Pann?” Agent Barry asked.

“Yes…” Bel whispered, speaking for the first time, and Eamon glanced down at her bloody cheek resting against his collarbone. She was protecting him. She’d watched him execute a man, yet she was covering for him. An officer killing a suspect to protect the victims wouldn’t raise suspicion, and hope warmed his chest. Had she forgiven his violence?

“I—” Eamon started, refusing to let her take the blame for his actions.

“Peter Pann escaped FBI custody and then attacked a police officer intending to kill her and the Darling family. We fought, and he died in the altercation,” Bel cut him off. “He broke his neck in a fall against a storage shelf.”

“I see,” Agent Barry said as his eyes flicked to Eamon, his expression confirming he knew they were lying. “Well, there’s nothing you could’ve done. He attacked you. It was self-defense. An accident even, and there were witnesses to confirm it. I’ll leave a note in the report, but nothing will come of it. Congratulations, Detective Emerson. You saved the Darling family and stopped a deadly killer. As Michael said, you’re a hero.”

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, and Agent Barry thumped Eamon on the back.

“Get her to the ambulance, and take care of her,” he said. “We’ll touch base after we recover Pann’s body and Henry Knight.”

Eamon nodded and reluctantly handed Bel off to the paramedics. He hovered close by as they worked, and after what felt like an eternity, they declared her stable. They suggested she go to the hospital for a full examination, but she wasn’t in danger. She refused to leave until she saw Henry in cuffs, though, and sensing she was not a woman to be defied, the paramedics backed off.

“I warned you I wasn’t innocent,” Eamon said once they were alone, his deep voice low and serious as he met her gaze. The sight of her bruises ate him from the inside out, and he wished he was the human and she was the immortal because he would do anything to steal her suffering from her.

“I told you I was evil, and you know I’ve killed before,” he continued. “I killed Alcina to save your life, but you were unconscious during that fight. You didn’t witness my violence, but now you’ve seen my truth firsthand. You’ve seen how easy it is for me to end a life. I could have arrested Pann, but I couldn’t let the man who tried to blow you up and then slit your throat live. I’ll never be like the monsters you hunt, but I will protect you at all costs. This isn’t the first time I’ve killed for you, nor will it be the last. Can you live with that? And please don’t lie because you think it’s what I want to hear. I won’t survive if you stay with me only to resent me later.”

---