The rest of dinner is filled with tense stares, nothing but the scraping of silverware and the people who speak on the stage waxing poetic about solving injustices in the world by throwing million-dollar parties with thousand-dollar seats.
But my insides are raging.
“Shouldn’t you be at the mansion?”
He didn’t even know I was gone. I was kidnapped, and he didn’t even know I was gone.
I’ve been telling myself for months that I need to admit he isn’t the man I remember, but this is the moment where the piece of my soul that was clinging on finally breaks, falling to the floor and shattering into a hundred jagged pieces.
He didn’t even know I was gone.
But of course, he could show up here.
God forbid his image ever take a hit. His public image, that is. It’s clear as day to me now that he doesn’t care how I see him.
And there’s something going on with Hook’s friend, Ru. The silent conversation with the commissioner, the way his name sends Hook into a tailspin, and now my father mocking his missing friends—it has my nerves wired and on high alert.
I know why Hook has me here, that’s become very obvious, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why my father is taunting him.
Why he even deals with someone like Hook in the first place.
Unless he’s not who he pretends to be.
And that, more than anything else, has me feeling like the stupidest person on the planet. Because how can you live with someone, how can you spend years breathing the same air, worshiping their every move, loving them with your whole heart, and not really know who they are?
The realization splits through me and breaks the lock on all of the things I let go unsaid, all of the times I’ve wanted to strike back, but nodded and smiled instead. I know Hook is most likely going to hurt me for lashing out, but I can’t find it in me to care. Finally—finally—being able to speak my mind is liberating. And when Hook not only allows it, but encourages it, I feel like I have someone at my back.
As twisted as that may seem.
I glance over to watch him as he nods along to something a man next to him is saying, my stomach somersaulting from my completely upside-down emotions. How is it possible that this man—the one who threatened my life less than an hour ago, the one who chained me to a basement wall—how is he still the only one who seems to treat me as if I’m valid?
He made the police commissioner apologize for insulting me and rubbed my neck while I stood against my father and his bitch of an assistant. And that doesn’t feel like Hook.
That feels like James.
I shake my head, reminding myself that he’s putting on a show. None of the way he’s treating me is for my benefit and forgetting that won’t do me any favors.
My eyes slide past Hook’s frame, noticing that one of the twins is walking in our direction. They reach us and bend down to whisper in his ear. Hook’s fingers, which have been trailing along the top of my thigh, freeze in place, and he straightens. With a squeeze on my leg, he moves, placing his napkin on the table. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, there’s a pressing matter that needs my attention.”
He stands, cutting a glare to my father, before leaning down to press a kiss to my cheek, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Behave,” he murmurs against my skin. “There’s nowhere you can run that I won’t follow.”
Anxiety mixes in my bloodstream as he walks away, my stomach tightening with indecision. My father is sitting right there, and he’s the one man on this earth who could save me, but at what cost?
I won’t do anything unless I know that Jon will be protected, and he’s proven time and time again that he doesn’t make him a priority.
No. What is wrong with me? He wouldn’t let him die. Jon is still his child, after all.
My insides twist, disgust weaving its way through my middle at how easily my mind has gone from believing in the good of people to questioning what type of murder they’d accept. A few days around criminals and suddenly I’ve accepted it as fact.
It bothers me that it doesn’t bother me the way it should.
“Wendy, I’d like to speak with you, please.” My father wipes the corners of his mouth with his napkin before placing it down. “In private.”
My heart stutters, knowing that’s something Hook wouldn’t like, but… Hook isn’t here. And I deserve some answers. I nod my head, pushing my chair back and glancing around, half expecting someone to jump out and grab me, but with every step I take, the easier I breathe, realizing that nobody is going to come.
We walk through the ballroom until we reach the back patio doors, my father allowing me to exit first before he follows behind. We’re the only people out here, and a chill sets into my bones as I shiver from the cool breeze.
“He’s using you to get to me.”
I jerk from his sudden words, my hand coming to rest on my chest. I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe an apology for him not realizing I was gone, or for being able to show up here, but always missing everything else.
The fact that I clearly know nothing about my father pours down my throat until all I can taste is the bitter truth.
I shake my head, huffing out a laugh. “Did you really not know I was gone?”
“Wendy, be reasonable. If this is you acting out for attention, I—”
“Answer the question.” My fists clench at my sides.
He sighs, rubbing his hand over his brow. “My security team told me you weren’t home, and I assumed you were throwing a tantrum.”
His words blast through my chest like a bomb, charring my insides black. A tantrum. Like I’m a child.
“If I would have known that you were busy frolicking around with a psychopathic criminal, I would have scoured the earth to track you down.”
My mouth gapes as I stare at him. “How do you know that?”
“Know what?”
“That he’s a psychopathic criminal.” My stomach churns. “How do you know that?”
“How do you not?” He puts his arms out to the sides. “You’re playing a very dangerous game here, Wendy. One you know nothing about.”
The burn expands, scorching my throat. “Don’t belittle me!”
His eyes widen, and I step forward, my fingers running through my hair, my heart beating wildly in my chest. “I am so sick of everyone treating me like I’m some porcelain doll who’s supposed to keep her mouth shut and look pretty. My opinions matter.”
His gaze softens. “Of course they do, Little Shadow.” He moves toward me. “I’m trying here.”
I scoff. “You haven’t tried since Mom died.”
His jaw sets. “You know nothing about your mother.”
I throw my hands up. “So I’m just stupid, then. I don’t know Hook. I don’t know my mother. And I sure as hell don’t know you.”
“Is he forcing you to be here?” He steps even closer, his voice soft as if he’s trying to lure an animal into a cage. “Has he… has he hurt you?”
My breathing stutters as I grit my teeth, the urge to tell him screaming from the back of my throat. “How’s Jon?” I ask instead.
His movements falter. “What?”
“I asked how Jon was. You know, your son?”
“What does that have to do with our conversation right now?” His brows draw in.
“A lot, actually.” My heart swells with hope that he’ll tell me he’s been to see him. That he just spoke to him on the phone and he’s settling in well.
He runs a palm over his face. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
Disappointment settles like a brick, crashing through my insides, making a sob lodge in my throat. He hasn’t even talked to him. And if he can’t be trusted to make a simple phone call, how can I trust that he’ll make sure he’s safe from Hook?
Guilt wraps around me, realizing that Jon’s been all alone. Acclimating by himself.
Closing my eyes, I release a deep exhale, a sick feeling settling in my gut and expanding, until acceptance of my situation fills me up and wraps around my edges.
“He isn’t forcing me,” I say slowly.
“He’s using you to get to me,” he repeats.
He’s not wrong. Hook has all but told me that he only cares about getting to my father. But until this moment, I hadn’t known how much that revelation hurt. The days leading up to this have numbed me to the pain, but with acceptance comes realization, and now the wounds are throbbing from where Hook dug his way into my heart only to carve himself out.
The faint sound of a door opening and closing comes from behind me, but I don’t turn to see who it is. There’s no need.
It’s impossible not to feel him when he enters a room.
“Well.” His accent floats on the breeze, wrapping around my neck like a noose. “Isn’t this cozy?”
Heat envelops my back, Hook’s arm slipping around my center and pulling me flush into his body. My heart jumps in my chest, dinner rising through my throat until I have to cover my mouth to keep it down.
“Trying to steal my date, Peter? Or just using her to plan your next foolish adventure?”
My father’s eyes narrow. “Whatever you’re trying, kid. It won’t work.”
Hook’s body stiffens, the heel of his palm pressing against my abs. My hands reach up to cover his forearm, and then, quick as lightning, my head is wrenched to the side, the tendons in my neck stretching until it hurts. I whimper from the pain, my fingernails digging into Hook’s skin.
“Are you trying to get her killed?”
My heart stutters at his words, my eyes widening as I stare at my father.
But all Dad does is smirk, his gaze landing on me. “I told you, Little Shadow. He doesn’t care for you.”
My insides burn.
A deep chuckle rumbles in Hook’s chest, and it vibrates through my bones, setting my nerves on fire. He leans down, pressing his pillow soft lips to the middle of my throat, his tongue swiping out to taste my skin.
Heat spreads between my legs, followed closely by the revulsion at the fact my body can be turned on by this sick situation.
“Do not make the mistake of thinking I am like the other men you’ve dealt with.” Hook releases my head, pushing me to the side gently as he stalks toward my father. “I do not care for my reputation. I do not care for the money, or the businesses you burn.”
My father’s lips turn down, and my head spins, wondering what he’s talking about.
“In fact, there is nothing you can steal from me that you haven’t already taken.” He steps closer until he towers over my father’s frame. “These are my streets,” he continues. “And I’ve been waiting so patiently for you to come and play.”
His hand reaches in his pocket, the brown handle of his knife making my insides curdle with fear. My heart catapults into overdrive, my feet moving before I can stop them, and I run, shoving myself between them, my father stumbling back a step.
“Don’t,” I beg. “Please… just… don’t hurt him.”
Hook’s eyes widen slightly, but he stands stoic, a slow grin creeping on his face. His fingers reach out, brushing down my jaw. “So loyal.”
He looks behind me to my father. “And where are your pleas, Peter?” His brows rise. “Or maybe you’d rather I spill her blood to cover your sins.”
Silence.
Deafening. Heartbreaking silence.
Hook’s eyes lock on mine, and I hold his stare, my stomach rising and falling along with the uneven beats of my heart, my nostrils flaring from the agonizing pain of my chest cracking in half.
He exhales, bending his neck to the side until it cracks, and then nods, reaching his hand out. “Very well.”
Relief pours through my veins, my body trembling as I place my palm in his. He tugs, and my body flies into him. My fingers press against his chest, his arm wrapping around my lower back and his mouth finding my ear.
“I want you to memorize this moment, darling. Remember how it feels to realize your father was willing to let you die in order to save himself.”
And then he whisks me away, while my soul shatters to dust.
