Page 77 of Caging Darling

That I’ve since glued myself back together.

Never strong enough to escape, but escape hasn’t been the objective for a long while now. And I’m plenty strong enough to outlast.

“Peter.” I whimper his name, hoping to capitalize on his guilt. It’s not the best way to get him to kill me, but it’s enjoyable to watch all the same. Shame warps his pretty features, and he drives across the room toward me, touching my neck where he bruised me. The pressure of his fingers, trying to be helpful, hurts.

He’s such an idiot.

“Wendy Darling, I—I’m so sorry I had to do that,” he says. “But you have to tell me what bargain you got yourself into.”

I just smile. My mother taught me well.

“Tell me,” he screams.

I’m not sure Peter’s ever screamed at me. I find it somewhat cathartic.

“You have to choose me, you have to…”

“Funny how these bargains work,” I say. “It’s like there’s some arbiter deciding what’s fair and what’s not. Whoever it is, they don’t seem to think choosing you necessitates confessing all of my innermost thoughts. Of course, you wouldn’t like all of my innermost thoughts, so perhaps that’s why.”

Peter’s face falls. It’s the first time since the night he admitted to killing my brother that he looks as if he sees something inside me other than adoration for him. Even duringthe times he knew he didn’t have my entire heart, he must have attributed it to my depression over John’s death. But now, as he scans my face, I watch him rifling through every moment over the past two years, searching for the signs of the hate I’ve harbored in my heart.

“Wendy Darling.” His voice is cold now, but pleading all the same. “You have to tell me what bargain you entered. You don’t understand. If you don’t fulfill a bargain, the magic will take your life.”

When I don’t answer, his eyes go wide. “Wendy, please. I’m begging you to tell me.”

“I think I like it when you beg,” is all I say.

Something hardens in Peter’s expression. Instead of stroking me, like he has been doing, he takes his hand and yanks my hair away from the back of my neck, pressing his thumb against my skin to remove the paint I so carefully applied.

“What is this?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know?”

Peter doesn’t answer.

I laugh, and the sound of my laughter echoing through the room sends chills up my arms.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me what bargain you entered.”

“Or what?” I ask, head still facing the ground from the position he’s got me in. “Or you’ll kill me?”

Peter tenses behind me, and I can’t seem to stop myself. “Or maybe you’ll kill John. Or take Michael somewhere I’ll never see him again. Oh, I know. You’ll sacrifice Iaso so that I can live, that way my true Mate will hate me forever.”

Peter’s breath is sharp.

I remove Peter’s hand from my neck. Then I turn around to face him. “Tell me, Peter. What exactly will you do to me that youhaven’t already done? What could you possibly take from me that wouldn’t rip you apart on the inside?”

Peter stares at me. “Surely you don’t hate me badly enough to die.”

I smile. “I didn’t want you to find out like this. Wanted it to come as a shock. But I think it’s better this way, don’t you? I think I’ll enjoy it all the more watching you dread it.”

Peter’s fist flexes, and I find myself hoping he’ll slam me against the wall again, except this time, just a little too hard.

He doesn’t. “How long?”

As if I’m going to tell him that.

When I don’t answer, he grabs me by the back of my neck and lifts me to my feet, pushing me toward the door.

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