Page 67 of Caging Darling

It hits me then that I had to come back. That I can’t choose Peter while allowing someone to plot his murder.

“Victor, I?—”

He watches me grapple with the truth, or, at least, attempt to untangle it. “I care for you,” I insist.

“I know you do, Winds,” he says, his voice cracking. “I know. You just can’t help it. But once he’s gone…”

Anger wells up within me. Of all Peter’s taken from me, this hurt is different. That I can’t even be good, do something selfless, and be confident my intentions were pure.

Still, it’s clear Victor isn’t going to be swayed by my pleas. So I take a different route. “Your father was crying. He wants you safe. He cares nothing about you avenging him.”

Victor’s lip trembles. “That’s not Father you’re speaking to.”

I shrug. “Maybe not. But it’s how he felt when he died. He just wanted a life for you.”

Tears slip over the bags underneath his eyes. Trembling, he lowers his crossbow.

“You can still get the others out,” I say. “Smalls and Benjamin and the Twins. I know you care for them.”

Victor shrugs, uncomfortable. “They won’t listen to me,” he says.

“But they’ll listen to me.”

He shakes his head. “No. No, you have to get back to Michael. I’m not letting you miss your chance to get out of here.”

My heart hurts, but I know he’s right. I grab a notebook from Peter’s bedside table, scribble a note inside, then rip out a page and hand it to him.

He glances at the note, at the lie I’m willing to tell the boys to get them off this island—that Neverland is unraveling, andPeter’s gone on ahead and has instructed us to follow. Victor nods, then looks up at me, renewed purpose in his eyes. “Meet you on the beach?”

I nod, and then Victor is gone.

The reapingtree has just deposited me at its base when I hear my name called from above.

“Wendy Darling?”

My heart stops in my chest.

“Where are you headed off to, my love?”

Slowly, I crane my head upward to face him, hoping I’m giving myself enough time to school my features. He’ll be able to hear my heart racing with those fae ears of his, so whatever excuse I come up with, it’ll need to be a reasonable explanation for my accelerated pulse.

“Peter? I thought you were off on a mission?” Thankfully, my bargain keeps my voice sounding relieved to be wrong, though my heart feels anything but.

“This was a quick one,” he says with a sly grin. The bulbs of light from the reaping tree’s trunk radiate upward through the branches, casting leafy shadows across his sharp cheekbones. “Now, don’t go avoiding my question. What are you doing out here?”

“I was feeling anxious,” I say, choosing my words carefully. Peter cocks his head at me from the shadows of the tree canopy. “When you told me to keep myself from dying, I think it made me realize I needed to be healthier. Take better care of myself. It’s been a long time since I went for a run. I know the stress isn’t good for me, so I thought running would help.”

Peter watches me from the branch on which he’s perched for what is probably seconds, but feels like a lifetime. “That sounds like a good idea. But it’s dark. Why don’t I come with you?”

There my heart goes again. I don’t miss the way his ears flick at my increased rate of breathing. “I seem to remember a time when you said running wasn’t any fun.”

He jumps to the ground, landing without a sound, then steps out from the shadows. “I agree. Which is why I’m not taking you running.”

Panic swells through me. Please don’t take me from Neverland. Please don’t take me from Neverland. Not on a mission. Not yet.

“Does that excite you?” he asks, approaching me and placing his hand on the corner of my jaw, where my heart is racing. “Or does it frighten you?”

“Is it so bad if it’s a little bit of both?” My laugh comes out nervously.

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