Chapter 55
Chapter Fifty-Five
ALICE
"Hook."
I shake his shoulders, gripping him tightly, but he doesn’t respond. His eyes are clamped shut, his face pale and twisted with anguish. His lips part, muttering something low and broken. That’s all he’s done since we got here.
I managed to drag him away from the gate, but it’s like the mist has followed us. Tendrils of red smoke cling to him, clawing at his skin. I’ve tried everything—waving it away, wrapping my arms around him to shield him—but it’s like the mist won’t let go. It’s tethered to him, feeding on him.
“Sam,” he whispers, the name spilling from his lips over and over, raw and desperate.
Every time he says it, something cracks inside me. The sound of it chills me, runs through me like a dagger. I don’t know who Sam is, but whoever they are, they’re carved into him like a wound that never healed.
“Sam, I’m sorry.”
Shit.
My stomach twists. He’s trapped, lost in whatever the mist is giving him. But it doesn’t make sense. I thought the mist gave you what you wanted—your dreams come true. Whatever this is, it’s something else entirely.
He’s rolling on the ground, his face contorted in pain, his breathing shallow. The mist clings to him like a living thing, swirling around him, feeding on him.
“Come on, you stubborn bastard. Wake up.”
Nothing.
He’s limp, a dead weight, and panic surges in my chest, threatening to take over. I shove it down. Think, Alice. Think.
I hook my hands under his arms and start dragging him backwards, further away from the gate. He’s bloody heavy, his body pulling against me like he’s anchored to the mist. It clings to us both, greedy tendrils wrapping around him, trying to reach for me.
“Come on, fucking move.”
I swipe at his face, trying to clear the mist, but it clings stubbornly to his skin, his nostrils. I press my hand over his nose and mouth, but he just pulls away, muttering again.
There’s got to be something I can do.
I drag him further, away from the thickest of the mist. It doesn’t touch me the way it touches him—I can’t smell it anymore, and the sickly-sweet scent of copper is fading. But it’s still wrapped around him, consuming him.
I sit back on my knees, my heart pounding, my mind racing. Poison. Hook said this mist was poison. And poisons always have antidotes, don’t they? Back home, nettles always grow near dock leaves. Maybe Wonderland works the same way.
It’s a long shot, but it’s all I’ve got.
My gaze darts around the forest floor, scanning for something—anything. The edges of the field are hazy, the mist draping down like silk.
I scramble towards the nearest cluster of plants, keeping one eye on Hook, the other on the foliage poking up through the cracked earth. Leaves, stems, flowers—none of them look familiar. One of them has to help.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I mutter, sparing him a glance. He’s still whispering, his voice hoarse, his body trembling. My chest tightens at the sound.
I push to my feet and dart away, each step heavier as the mist clings to my skin. My heart pounds as I sift through the plants at the edge of the fence. If I crouch low enough, I can just make out the ground beneath the haze.
Then I see it.
A cluster of crimson flowers with long, curling petals and faintly glowing ferns. Thin black stems pulse with energy, almost alive. They stand out against the muted forest floor like they don’t belong.
“This has to be it,” I murmur, reaching for one.
The stem is warm beneath my fingers, the petals giving off a cloyingly sweet scent, like overripe fruit.
Please. Work. Please.
I sprint back to Hook, dropping to my knees beside him.
He’s still muttering, his voice cracking as he calls for Sam, apologising over and over.
The raw pain in his words cuts deep, and I don’t even know what he’s begging forgiveness for.
I just hope—hope—that whoever Sam is forgives him, because he’s clearly carrying the weight of the world.
I tear one of the petals from the flower and crush it between my fingers. A bright, glowing liquid oozes out.
“Okay,” I whisper softly. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
I hold the crushed petals under his nose, the liquid shimmering in the dim light. His body jerks, his breath catches sharply, and for a moment, I think I’ve made it worse.
“Hook,” I whisper, cupping his face with both hands. “Come on, breathe.”
I crush more petals in my palm, smothering them against his nose and mouth. His chest rises sharply.
“Come on, you idiot,” I hiss, leaning in close. My face is so near his, I can feel the warmth of his breath with every exhale.
His lips move faintly, whispering that name again. “Sam.”
I shake him gently, desperation bleeding into my voice. “Breathe, you shit. Come on. Listen to me.”
His eyes flicker open.
I freeze. For a moment, I’m not even sure he’s seeing me. His gaze is unfocused, distant. But then he blinks.
“Hook,” I say, my voice trembling.
He licks his cracked lips. “Alice,” he rasps, barely above a whisper.
Relief floods through me, and I slump forward. My forehead rests against his, our breaths mingling in the still air.
For a moment, everything else fades. His eyes are on mine, clearer now, the pain in them raw and exposed. My pulse races as his gaze drops to my lips, the space between us narrowing.
I hesitate.
The air feels thick, charged. My breath catches in my throat, and my heart pounds against my ribs. I’m close enough to kiss him, to let this tension pull us together—but I stop.
He shifts slightly, his breath warm against my skin, his hand lifting to brush against my hair.
“Hook,” I whisper, the sound barely audible, but it’s enough to break the spell.
I pull back, just slightly, my face still close to his, but the moment is gone.
“I thought I’d lost you,” I say, my voice cracking.
His fingers thread into my hair, his grip weak but steady.
“I thought…” My hands frame his face as I lean back to look at him. His skin is still pale, clammy, but his eyes are focused now. “I could bloody kill you, you know that?”