Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Time was hazy. Whatever drugs were in her system had worn off, and there was nothing left to dull the fear. She was going to die here, or worse. She was sure of it.
These men were not interested in negotiating, and their brutality had been more than proven. But she knew it could still get far worse.
She ached for the familiarity of her safe little nursery and would give anything to have that sort of security back. A cage shared with monsters was far worse than any gilded cage her parents locked her in.
What an absolute fool she was. She could have avoided all this if she only knew how unhinged Peter Pangbourne was. She blamed him for bringing her here but also held herself accountable for stupidly trusting a stranger.
What was taking so long?
As much as she dreaded the future, she wanted to know what was coming next. That brute, Jukes, said the boss would be down shortly, but that had to be at least an hour ago.
In the unmoving silence, she studied her surroundings. Despite the lawlessness of this ship, there existed undertones of order, however tyrannical. These pirates were not of the Never Lands or any land. They belonged only to themselves and to the sea. A thought that terrified her, especially as someone who couldn’t swim.
Wendy had always been enchanted by danger, but the truth was, she wasn’t cut out for a world without consequences. She liked order and achievable objectives. Those things didn’t seem to exist here.
How was she going to escape this place? The deck had been strewn with ropes and barrels, plenty of places to hide, but they were at sea, and leaving the ship promised a watery death. Besides, the men outnumbered her at least ten to one.
The ship's rocking turned her stomach as muffled voices passed in the hall. Fear confined her as much as the chains holding her. Soon, something would happen. She didn’t know what, but she sensed it coming closer.
Rolling to her back, she grew still and listened. Minutes passed, perhaps hours. Every now and then, she’d hear masculine voices holler. What happened to everyone at the lagoon? Were they dead? Was anyone left to save her?
Heavy footfalls approached, and her heart jolted into a rapid gallop. She forced herself to stand up despite how frozen and stiff her bones were. This was it. She could not lay helpless on the ground, awaiting her sentence. Whatever was coming for her, she would be prepared. Balling her hands into fists, she rose to her full height, ready to fight.
The metal lock on the door clicked, and the chains rattled as she stepped back. The air left her lungs in a whoosh. Nothing could have prepared her for the man who stepped inside.
Tall and broad, with hair blacker than a raven’s wing, he entered the room and locked the door. His authority was palpable. He was obviously the owner of the ship, perhaps by deed or law, but more so by his presence. When he finally looked at her, she felt him in her stomach.
One glance at her oppositional stance and he chuckled. “A little, wet mouse.” Flicking an invisible fleck of lint from his cuff, he closed the distance slowly. “Don’t strain yourself. Resistance, at this point, is futile.”
His low voice carved through the air between them, deep enough to leave scars. She stayed standing no matter how much she trembled.
“What’s your name, little mouse?”
“W—Wendy.”
“Wendy, what? When someone asks your name, give it to them in its entirety.”
“W-Wendy Moira Angela D-Darling.”
He glanced over his shoulder and raised a dark brow. He had the lean muscle and graceful confidence of a wild jungle cat. “Do you typically speak with a stammer, Wendy Moira Angela Darling?”
“No.”
He moved as though the air bent for him, as if everything in his path was under his command. Dragging a chair across the floor, the scraping sound rubbing her nerves raw, he let it wobble into place beside her. “Sit.”
She glanced at the chair, reluctant to give him the upper hand.
“When I give a command, you obey.”
Shaking like a leaf, she met his hard stare with challenge, refusing to follow his orders.
“Very well.” He swept his boot behind her ankle, tripping her off her feet. She fell into the chair. “I don’t repeat myself.”
She cowered under his hard stare, the heavy chains jangling as she situated her arms. He moved to the hearth and lit a fire, and she closed her eyes, grateful for the anticipated warmth.
After lighting several long candles about the cabin, he pulled another chair to the carpet and turned it to face her but didn’t sit. At the sideboard, he poured two glasses of blood-red wine.
“What brings you to the Never Lands, Wendy Moira Angela Darling?”
Her heart thundered wildly in her chest. “I came here with a friend.”