Chapter 67
Chapter Sixty-Seven
HOOK
She's so bloody easy to push, to rile up. Every button right there for the pressing.
And I don't mean that in a bad way.
It's just who she is—wearing every thought, every flicker of emotion right on her face. No shields. No calculation. Just raw, unfiltered reaction. No idea how dangerous that makes her.
Infuriating.
Yet grounding.
I take a step back, putting distance between us. Pain rips through my leg, sharp and deep. I don't react. Won't react. Weakness is an opening, and I don't give those out freely.
But Alice watches me.
I feel her gaze even without looking. The way she sees too much, peeling back layers I never gave her permission to touch. I grit my teeth, throw up every damn wall I've built, because if I don't, she might actually see what's underneath.
Before her, before Wonderland, before all this mess, things were simple. Get in. Get the amulet. Get out. Fix Neverland.
Fix Sam.
For fuck's sake.
I clench my jaw, forcing my focus back where it belongs. On the amulet. On the mission. Not on the way she shifts closer when danger threatens, or how her pulse jumps when I get too near.
Because when I say my magic is pathetic, I bloody well mean it.
I barely had a flicker left in that oubliette. Now? I'd be lucky to conjure a single spark. The absence gnaws at me, hollowing me out from the inside. Every second in this cursed place makes it worse.
Magic was fading in Neverland—everyone's was. That's why I came here. That's why this matters. But here, it's accelerating, Wonderland sucking the last scraps of power from my bones.
Is it because we're close? Because the Queen is here? Because the amulet is here, and she's using it against me, draining me the way she's draining the rest of my world?
It doesn't matter.
What matters is finding the gate. So I move away from Alice, putting space between us. Distance I need but don't want.
I need to focus.
Her voice pulls me back. "Do you have any idea where the gate might be?"
She's back on task. Good.
We don't need distractions.
I don't need distractions.
Though the way she bites her lower lip when she's thinking might be the death of me.
I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. "No. For all we know, it's on the other damn side of this rock face. Or worse—" I gesture to the jagged cliffs ahead. "—it keeps moving."
Her brows pinch together. The expression shouldn't be endearing.
It bloody well is. "I know this is Wonderland, but it still doesn't make sense.
" She puts a hand up, stopping me before I can throw in a comment.
"I just... how do we find it? It could keep shifting around the rock, and we never catch up. "
She shakes her head, rubbing her fingers over her temple. Frustration bleeds into every movement. "It's like the Wonderland I remember, only worse." A sharp breath leaves her. "What if we split up? You go one way; I'll go the other. One of us will find it."
"No." The word rips out before I can stop it, harsh and immediate.
She blinks at me. "No?"
"You'd get yourself into trouble, and then where would we be?" I say, covering up the instinct that surged at the thought of her wandering off alone. The need to keep her close that I refuse to examine.
Because apparently, not only is my magic fucked, but something else inside me cares—and I'm not supposed to.
I'm Captain goddamn Hook. I do not care.
Her lips press together, unimpressed. The sight shouldn't make my chest tight. "And you wouldn't?"
I snort. "I am the trouble."
She mutters something under her breath—too low to catch. Probably something rude. Definitely something I deserve.
We keep moving, walking along the rock face, searching. Her fingers graze the stone as we go, and I do not imagine those fingers on me. Not at all. My mind is completely on the job. Absolutely bloody focused.
"We came through here, didn't we?" She presses her fingertips into her temple like she's trying to force the memory out.
Then she scowls at the path. "This is where we came when we left the teapot house.
We ran this way." She turns back to the rock wall, to the sheer stone that definitely wasn't blocking our way before.
"Yeah." And then it clicks.
"The rock is a sundial," I say.
She stares at me, eyes bright with that spark of curiosity that keeps drawing me in. "A what?"
"When we saw it from the teapot house, it was one way. Now it's another. It's moving."
"I thought sundials didn't move."
"They don't," I say, watching her piece it together. "But I think that's what this is. Like a clock. It's turning."
Her expression sharpens, all focus now. The sight does things to my pulse I refuse to acknowledge.
"Which means it's moving clockwise," she murmurs.
"Which means the gate will move too, shifting with it.
" She turns, pointing back the way we just came.
"So, if your theory is right, if we follow the movement, we'll reach the gate. "
"My theory is right," I say, just to watch her bristle.
She shoots me a glare that could strip paint, but I don't wait for the retort I know is coming. I head off in the direction she pointed.
Pain flares in my leg as I walk, deep and relentless, riding up my thigh. I hate that it has me limping. Hate the weakness. Hate that she notices, her eyes tracking every uneven step.
We circle back around the rocks, heading toward the spot where we hid behind that pile of fallen stone. Where I kissed her. Where everything shifted.
It's Alice who stops first. "No. Freaking. Way." She moves ahead, striding forward like she's about to punch the air in frustration. Because there it is.
Right in front of us, lined up perfectly with where we were hiding.
The goddamn gate.
And why wouldn't it be?
That's exactly what this place does. Wonderland's own twisted sense of humour, throwing us right back where we started.
"This was definitely not here a minute ago," she mutters.
"Well, it's here now." I step up beside her, too close, and in one easy movement, slip the sword from her side. The brush of contact sends electricity through my fingers.
"Hey—" she snaps, reaching for it. The movement brings her closer, and for a moment, I forget why I wanted the sword in the first place.
I hold it out of reach, spinning it once, feeling the weight of it back in my grip. Trying to ignore how her proximity makes my skin buzz. "This," I say, flashing her a slow grin, "is for pirates, not princesses."
She rolls her eyes, but there's heat in her gaze that wasn't there before. "And here I was, thinking you'd finally got over that."
“Maybe. Now, are we going, or what?”