Page 82 of The Last Lost Girl

“And if they were taken?” I demand, horrified at the possibility.

Feathers stir from the drafts the flapping double-doors allow into the room.

“Hudson. What if they were captured?”

His evergreen eyes meet mine. “Then they’re beyond our help.”

I push to stand, wobbling unevenly. He’s there to brace me; his hands clamp onto my hips so that my legs don’t buckle like a newborn colt.

“Sit down. You’re in no shape to be upright,” he chastises.

“That’s not up to you to decide,” I retort. “Someone needs to go after them.”

“And I suppose you think that someone is you?” He laughs. “Enlighten me, Lifeguard. Exactly how will you manage to save them?”

“I don’t know!” I answer hotly. “But how can you just sit here and do nothing? They’re your friends. Your family.”

His jaw ticks and fury sets his forest eyes ablaze. “Yes, they are, but the only ones who can help them if Pan or the Lost Boys find them is Seoul or your sister.”

Hudson grips me tighter as I start to sag a little more with each breath. The air is frigid despite the tropical climate. Goosebumps pebble my arms as my grip wavers, and I catch myself again on his forearms.

“Seoul?” I mumble.

Slowly, Hudson helps me sit, then covers me as best he can. “Seoul’s instructions for going ashore were different than everyone else’s. Do you remember him?”

I blink and try to recall his face… “He went alone.”

“To check Pan’s sanctum for Belle, but also for this reason. If the Lost Boys don’t kill them right away, if they bring them back to Pan, Seoul will do his best to extract them.”

I want to scream in his face: What if they’re killed first? What if Seoul is found and captured, too? But my vision swims. And where there was one Hudson, now there are two of him.

No, three…

“Tinkerbell is the only one strong enough to fight Pan… or at least, she was once. I don’t know how she would fare now.”

I feel his shoulders sink under my hands. “Hudson?” I murmur before everything blurs.

He gathers me to his chest. “Smee!” he shouts.

Twenty-Eight

My vision is hazy around the edges and I can barely keep my eyes open, even when Hudson urges me not to sleep. He obviously doesn’t understand how tired I am.

I blink lazily and watch squares of golden light dance across the floor beyond the bed. They dapple the desk and the wall behind it. They dapple him.

The ship is still rocking, but my stomach is at ease.

Worry lines Smee’s face as he feels my forehead again. “Hudson,” he pleads. “Her eyes shine like glass.”

One of them says something else, but I can’t make it out…

“Lifeguard?” Hudson’s voice booms under my ear. He holds me against his chest, trying to keep me from breaking apart. I’m so cold. I can’t stop shaking.

I hear every whoosh of breath. Every beat of his heart. He gathers me closer. “Are there no more blankets?” Hudson grits.

Smee purses his lips. “Everyone has sent theirs up for her, but even if we had a thousand, adding more hasn’t helped her so far.”

Hudson’s teeth grind.

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