Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
HOOK
"What the hell did you do?"
"I found the exit," I say. What I don't mention is that I didn’t mean to push all those buttons, but they were there, and ignoring them isn’t in my nature.
Oops.
We run, tearing through the maze, doubling back, and taking turns that make no sense. The exit isn’t far—I know that much—but getting to it while this thing is chasing us? That’s a different story.
The metal ball behind us grinds through the maze like the hedges are paper, the sound sharp and relentless. Its spinning blades chew up the greenery and fling splinters like shrapnel. I grab Alice’s arm, yanking her forward before she can get herself killed.
“Let go of me,” she snaps, trying to twist free.
“Not a chance,” I bite back, pulling harder. She’s fast, but not fast enough to outrun that.
The sound of ripping foliage grows louder, pressing in around us as we twist through another turn.
Every corner looks the same. Every path leads nowhere.
This is a mess—one of my making, of course.
The damn thing is close enough now that I can feel the air shift behind us, and when we hit a long stretch, it’s there, ready to grind us into pieces.
I stop dead. Alice slams into my back, stumbling.
“What the hell are you doing?” she yells, her voice sharp with panic.
“Saving your life,” I snap, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her toward a side path. But another machine rolls out of the shadows ahead of us—bigger, meaner. Two of them now.
“We’re trapped,” she says, breathless.
“Not yet.”
We bolt down the nearest opening, only to find it’s a dead end. Great. Perfect. The wall of tangled branches mocks us as we skid to a stop.
“What now?” she demands, panting.
The grinding of metal grows louder. I glance back—the thing’s almost here. Pressing her into the hedge, I hold my arm in front of her.
Her eyes dart to mine. “Hook…” There’s fear in her voice, but she keeps it together.
“Just stay behind me,” I say, even though we both know that won’t help much when those blades hit.
“Hook.” This time, there’s more urgency—and then she’s gone from under my arm.
I whip around. She’s on her knees, crawling through a hole in the hedge. “Come on,” she shouts, her voice tight with desperation.
I drop, glancing back at the spinning blades tearing through the path behind us. Bits of branches and debris spit out, hitting my back as I crawl after her. The space is tight, leaves and thorns snagging at my clothes. Alice pushes forward, shoving through the dense brush.
“Move faster,” she hisses, glancing back at me, her face too close.
“You try crawling with this much grace,” I growl, ducking lower to avoid a branch.
We burst through to the other side, and she’s on her feet first, already looking for the next escape.
“Hook…”
There’s something in the way she says my name—flat, almost resigned. I turn and see it. Another machine, bigger than the last, its blades turning in every direction.
“Oh, brilliant,” I mutter.
We run again.
“There,” she shouts, pointing to a door half-hidden in vines ahead of us.
We sprint toward it, the sound of the machine bearing down on us. Alice reaches the door first, grabbing the handle and twisting. Nothing.
“It’s locked,” she cries, slamming her shoulder into it.
“Step back,” I bark, shoving past her.
She backs up, but her wide-eyed stare tells me she doesn’t think I can do it. The air shifts again, and the machine’s almost on top of us. I throw myself at the door, slamming my shoulder into the wood. Pain shoots down my arm, but the door doesn’t budge.
“Try harder,” she yells, panic creeping into her voice.
“Do you think I’m not?” I snap, throwing my weight into it again. The wood cracks but doesn’t give.
I glance back. The machine’s close enough now that I can see the individual blades spinning. No time. I step back, brace myself, and kick the door with everything I’ve got. It bursts open, swinging wide.
Grabbing Alice’s arm, I shove her through the opening before following and slamming the door shut behind us. The crunch of metal colliding with wood echoes on the other side, then nothing.
It’s pitch black.
Alice’s breathing is ragged beside me, and I can feel her tense, ready to keep running.
“Where… where are we?” she asks, her voice tight and breathless.
“Safe,” I say, though it feels more like a guess.
She steps back, staring at me. Her hair’s a mess, her face streaked with dirt, but there’s a defiance in her expression, even now. “If this is your version of safe, remind me to never follow you anywhere again.”
I huff out a laugh, leaning against the wall. “You’re welcome.”
She glares at me, but there’s no real heat in it. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here we are,” I say, pushing off the wall and brushing past her. The floor shifts beneath us suddenly, and I grab for something to steady myself.
“Hook,” she shouts, stumbling into me.
The ground gives way, and we drop. The fall isn’t long, but the landing hits hard, the impact jarring my spine. Alice groans beside me, rolling onto her side.
I sit up, reaching out instinctively to steady her, but she pulls away, her breathing still uneven.
“Where the hell are we now?” she mutters, sitting up and glaring at the darkness. "I can't see a damn thing."
It’s so dark I can’t bloody see. I walk forward cautiously, hands stretched out like a zombie, trying to feel my way through. My fingertips brush against something soft—but firm—and instinctively, my hand closes around it.
“Hook,” Alice yells, slapping my hand away.
The realisation hits fast. I let out a low laugh, unapologetic. “Nice pair.”
“You’re such an arsehole."
“Oh, there's that affection again. I do love it when you talk dirty to me.”I can almost feel the glare she’s probably giving me through the dark. She shifts beside me, her breath coming quick. It’s either frustration, or she’s considering hitting me. Probably both.
“Just… keep your hands to yourself,” she huffs.
“No promises.”
I step away, groping blindly through the blackness, my hand landing on something solid this time. Cold metal. Bars. I grip them tightly, running my hand along to find an opening. “I think there’s a gate here,” I say, squinting uselessly into the dark.
“Congratulations,” Alice mutters. “We’ll put that on your tombstone: ‘Captain Hook: Found the Gate.’”
I ignore her, gripping the bars harder. “Alice,” I call out when she doesn’t follow up with more of her usual sarcasm. She’s nearby—I can hear her breathing and the faint rustle of her clothes.
“It’s just a wall this side,” she says, distracted. “I think—”
She cuts off with a yelp, and my heart jumps to my throat. I’m moving towards her before she even speaks again.
“What happened?”
“Something moved under my hand!” she hisses.
There’s a faint sound—like a low hiss and a slithering. It prickles at the back of my neck. I have no intention of finding out what it is.
“Brilliant,” I mutter, forcing the word through gritted teeth.
“What?”
“Just fantastic,” I say dryly, moving back to where I’d found the bars earlier. My hands skim over the cold metal, but nothing feels right. The bloody thing seems to have moved. “I know it’s here,” I say. “I can’t find the damn thing now.”
“We need light or something,” Alice says.
“Can’t you use your magic?”
“I don’t have magic,” she says. “I’m not from here, remember?”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have any.” I grip hold of the bars, rattling them, seeing if I can pull them open.
From what I can feel, there is no catch or handle.
The gate isn’t actually a gate, but rather just a section of bars.
For what? It’s not to see through; it isn’t a window, because we can’t see fuck all down here.
“What if we try climbing back up?” she asks.
I glance upwards at the pitch-black void we fell from. “Sure, if you can actually see where we’re going. Want me to hoist you up there?”
There’s a pause. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“So you keep telling me.” I grip the bars harder, testing them again for any weakness. Nothing. My breath hisses out in frustration.
Alice steps closer, and I can feel her moving just behind me. Her arm brushes mine, and I can’t tell if it’s deliberate or not, but the contact sends a jolt through me. She shifts past me, her shoulder knocking into mine.
“Move over,” she mutters, running her hands over the bars. “You’re not the only one with hands.”
“I noticed.”
“Shut up.” She tugs the metal, but it doesn’t give. Her breathing quickens. “It’s no use,” she says, letting go and stepping back into me. Her foot hits mine, and she stumbles, bumping into my chest.
I steady her automatically, hands on her arms. “Careful, sunshine.”
She glares up at me—or at least, I think she does. The dark is so thick I can’t even see her face, but I can feel the anger radiating off her.
“This is pointless.”
“Not quite.” I keep my hands on her shoulders for a beat longer than necessary, grounding her—or maybe grounding myself. Then I step back. “Use your magic.”
“I told you,” she bites out. “I don’t have any. I’m not like you.”
“Have you even tried?”
“No, but I—”
“Then how do you know?” I press, leaning closer, my voice dropping. “Hmm?”
She doesn’t answer, not right away, and I hear the hitch in her breath. Then she counters, “What about you? You’re supposed to have magic, right? You’re meant to be this great, powerful pirate. So, use your magic. Turn on the lights, open the locks—solve this, since you’re so sure of yourself.”
“I am a great, powerful pirate,” I growl.
“Then prove it.”
I scoff, snapping my fingers in the air. “Drained,” I say. “Remember the whole reason I’m here?”
As if to prove my point, the snap produces a brief flash of light. It’s barely there—just long enough to illuminate the space around us—and my stomach plummets when I see it.
Stone walls curve around us in a perfect circle, narrowing to the top where we fell. The floor is damp and uneven, the air thick with moisture and decay. No windows, no doors, no obvious way out.
“We’re in an oubliette,” I say, the words flat, almost hollow.
“An oubliette?” she echoes, her tone sharp with confusion. “What the hell is that?”
“A place to throw people when you want to forget about them,” I say, my voice tightening as I force the memories back.
“They used them in castles and manors—old places. Toss someone down here, usually under the kitchen, so they can hear all the chatter and smell the food while they rot away. No one checks. No one remembers. They just… starve to death.”
“Perfect,” she says eventually, her voice quieter now. “Just bloody perfect.”
“Yep,” I say, though my throat feels tight. “My uncle threw me in one once. Somewhere like this.”
I think her head snaps up. I hear the sudden movement of clothes. “But you clearly got out. How?”
I pause, not actually sure what to say because I shouldn’t have told her.
When I don't answer, she says, "I'm only asking because it might prove useful right now."
I swallow past the constriction in my throat. “I didn’t.”