Chapter 69
Chapter Sixty-Nine
HOOK
"Oh, for the love of god. Does this place ever fucking give up?"
I turn, sword in hand, blood hammering through my veins. My pulse pounds a warning I'm trying desperately to ignore.
Of course. Of bloody fucking course.
The shadows peel back, revealing them. Bandersnatches.
Not one, not two, but a whole bloody pack.
They stand motionless, waiting, their silence more unsettling than any snarl.
Things with teeth that size shouldn't move so quietly.
We're trapped between them and the locked gate, with nothing but steel and stupidity between us and death.
A growl ripples through the pack, deep enough to shake the ground beneath my boots. My muscles coil tight as my grip locks around the sword's hilt. One steps forward, and I recognise it immediately—blood-slicked fur, torn-up scars.
Not just a Bandersnatch. The Bandersnatch.
Alice moves beside me. I feel her shift before I see it, the warmth of her too close, too distracting even now.
I don't step in front of her. What's the bloody point? They'd tear through me and still get to her. One nearly killed us both. An entire pack?
This is Wonderland stacking the deck, fixing the game, dealing us a hand we can't possibly win.
The largest prowls forward, massive and deliberate. Its form flickers between solid and shadow, dark liquid dripping from fangs longer than my forearm. But it isn't attacking. Isn't rushing us with blind violence.
It's watching me.
Not with hunger. Not with mindless malice.
No. I know violence. I've seen it in men's eyes before. Cold. Calculated. The kind of hatred that doesn't burn—it freezes, deep and sharp.
But this? There's something else here. Something behind those glowing eyes that turns my blood cold.
Awareness.
I tip my chin, rolling my shoulders. "Are we really doing this again?"
Alice stirs beside me, her breath catching—but her voice stays steady. Too steady.
"Hook."
I feel her move before I see it. Her hand brushes mine—not for comfort, not for reassurance.
For my sword.
I react instantly, fingers flexing, ready to stop her. To pull her back, to shove her behind me where she bloody well belongs—
She shakes me off. Like I'm nothing. Like I never mattered at all.
My teeth grind together, but I don't stop her. I should. I bloody well should. Every instinct screams at me to keep the blade, to keep myself between her and whatever fresh hell we're about to face.
But something deeper, something I don't have a name for, whispers that this is exactly how it's meant to be.
Alice doesn't hesitate. Doesn't second-guess. She doesn't even spare me a glance.
"We mean you no harm," she says, stepping forward. Unarmed. Mad. Brilliant. Terrifying.
I tighten my grip on the sword. Maybe she believes this will work. Maybe she thinks there's another way out of this mess.
I don't.
I don't believe in fate. I don't believe in mercy.
I believe in steel.
We might be outnumbered. This might be certain death.
But if we go down, we go down fighting.
I move to step with her, to close the distance, to do something, but she throws out an arm. Her palm presses against my chest without even turning her head. A silent stay back.
I don't like it. I don't trust it.
But I don't move.
The lead Bandersnatch—the one I ran through with my sword—doesn't snarl. Doesn't bare its fangs.
Instead, it takes another step forward. Slow. Measured. Deliberate.
Alice hesitates. A fraction of a second. Then she steps forward too.
My grip tightens until my knuckles go white. She shouldn't be doing this. I should be stopping her.
But I don't.
The Bandersnatch lowers its head, a low, rolling growl vibrating through its chest.
And it isn't a threat.
Not a warning.
A test.
My heart slams against my ribs as Alice lifts her hand.
Not reaching. Not touching. Just offering.
The Bandersnatch's nostrils flare. Its growl shifts, transforms into something else entirely.
And then its glowing yellow eyes meet hers.
The world stops breathing.
It approaches her hand, taking small, careful sniffs. The rest of the pack flanks it, and I know—one wrong move, one mistimed breath, and we're both dead.
"Alice," it says.
We freeze. Not that we were moving before, but a different kind of stillness snaps over us. Alice gasps. I stare at the beast, my mind refusing to process what just happened.
It spoke.
The creature raises its head, drawing itself to full height. The smoke around it churns, whooshing in and out with each breath. The bloody thing grows with each exhale until it towers over her.
"You speak?" Alice's voice barely trembles.
Its deep yellow eyes lock onto hers. Something changes in that gaze—knowledge, awareness, as if whatever shield it wore before has dropped away.
"You stand at the gates of the sacred hall of memories," it intones, its voice deep enough to vibrate in my chest. "You stand at the threshold, child of two worlds. You do not know it yet, but you are remembered here."