Sneak Peak
Isabel
“He’s not coming.”
The ringing in my ears drowns out the rest of whatever Rafael is saying after uttering those three words. His lips are moving on the other side of the plexiglass partition, but even with the phone pressed against my ear, whatever is said gets lost in the racing of my thoughts.
That, and the storm of emotions roiling inside of me.
He’s not coming.
Six months.
I’ve been locked up for six fucking months after the Drug Enforcement Agency came knocking down our door. I’d saved nearly everyone along with half the product in the warehouse before I was cuffed and dragged out. But Peter? He’d been nowhere to be found.
He’d promised he would get me out of here, but I haven’t seen him since.
“Peter said to tell you that he has a plan to get you out of here,” Rafael said the first week I'd been behind bars.
“Don't worry, Peter says he'll be getting you out of here real soon,” Beaumont assured me two months later.
“He’s unraveling without you, Izzie—no doubt he’s doing everything he can to come up with a plan to get you out of here,” Lily grumbled through the phone a month ago.
That had been the last I'd heard of any sort of rescue mission from my best friend.
My ride or die.
The man who’s been the love of my life since we were just children, even if he didn’t know it.
I should’ve known better than to put my fate in Peter’s hands.
The time of grand ideas and whirlwind adventure, death-defying feats has passed for him.
Rather than strut around like the king he is through the streets of Neverland, Peter’s made himself quite comfortable on his throne—barking orders and cracking jokes from afar.
It’s me that hasn’t changed—complacency isn’t my style.
Still, I had hoped Peter would come through.
After all, we've been there for one another since I was seven and he was thirteen.
For twenty-three years we've been inseparable—until now.
Anger surges forward, hot and violent. At least, that’s what I tell myself it is.
I’m not hurt that he’s left me on my own.
No… definitely not. That would be ridiculous.
And I’m not alone. Rafie, Bo, and Lily visit almost every other day.
I’ve also made myself quite a few friends within the confines of this jail.
The fact of the matter is, I shouldn’t be here.
I’ve never been separated from Peter for so long, and I hate it. Doesn’t he hate it too?
The answer comes unbidden; apparently not. If he missed me, he’d have tried to come see me at least once. My throat squeezes shut and my breath catches in my throat while my body tenses.
I built Peter a literal throne made from the bones of our enemies. Some call it deprived, I call it a masterpiece.
I created an army of loyal men and women to serve him. Peter and I call them family, the people on the Isle of Neverland call them the Lost Boys.
I turned Peter into the infamous kingpin—around here he’s as feared as the mythical Boogeyman.
Amusement nearly slices through my anger.
The thing with kingdoms—you have to actually run them.
Micromanaging isn’t Peter’s thing. Even from behind this stupid partition, I’ve been making sure the Lost Boys weren’t…
well… lost. Peter might be the face of one of Neverland's most infamous gangs, but I’m the one who makes sure we have something to boast about.
It’s me that manages the operations of the business.
I’m the one who handles any threats before they turn into something serious, and I keep our enemies in their place—which is beneath us.
Hell, I even made sure that when any Lost Boys get locked up, including myself, that we have people on the inside that make our stay much more comfortable.
All it takes is greasing the right palms. It’s easy enough—there’s a lot of corruption on the Isle of Neverland; especially in the judicial system.
It makes speaking so freely with Rafie, Bo, and Lily easy.
All conversations—like the one I’m having now—are simply erased after the call ends.
But it took work to make this happen.
And I did it—with help, of course, from the members of the Lost Boys.
Peter didn’t help with any of this.
My grip tightens around the phone in my hand as I think of all I’ve done for the leader of the Lost Boys.
All I’m still doing despite being behind bars, and his lack of action.
Since the creation of the Lost Boys, I’ve led from behind the curtain and while Peter took center stage. He’s an ungrateful asshole
How dare Peter do this to me. How dare he abandon me.
I hold on to the rage festering inside me. I refuse to allow the painful frissons cracking through my heart to distract me. I’m used to disappointment and being let down by Peter. He’s been slipping up a lot the past few years. What’s one more time?
“Tink? Did you hear me?” Rafael, my sweet, rambunctious Rafie, asks.
My gaze flickers in his direction for just a second before it skirts over his shoulder to the other two Lost Boys leaning against the wall.
One of them looks identical to the man on the phone.
Of course Beaumont, my unpredictable Bo, would be here with his brother, Rafie.
The twins who don’t go anywhere without one another.
My eyes flicker to the woman beside Bo next.
While the twins are bloodthirsty, Lily is more cunning and cautious.
No doubt she’s keeping these two in check while I’m behind bars.
These three have been essential in making sure my orders are carried out while I’ve been behind bars.
They’ve always been loyal to the gang, and more importantly to me and Peter since the very beginning.
The three of them make up the core of my family.
The most integral members. Other than serving Peter, I work hard to make sure these three have a comfortable life as well.
We’ve been through so much together. So what do they think of Peter’s lack of input or interest in me behind bars?
Rafie leans forward, his brows furrowing with concern. “Tink?”
I force myself to take a deep breath. As I fill my lungs, the ache in my heart intensifies—threatening to steal the very air I’ve just inhaled.
“Yes, yes, I heard you,” I answer curtly. “Next drop, bring one of my blue hearts. That’ll keep The Crew off of you.”
James’s people, known as The Crew, are the Lost Boys’ biggest hurdle.
Try as we may to take over the entire Isle of Neverland, James’ foothold here is strong thanks to the generational power granted to him by his father, who started The Crew five decades ago.
Richard Wittman, James’s father, was a poor leader, but when James took over, The Crew became a real problem.
We’re rivals in every sense of the word.
The push and pull for territory on this island is a war that’s been going on between us ever since the Lost Boys came on the scene.
Rafie nods. “And what about—”
“Did Peter say why he wasn’t coming?” I interrupt sharply.
Six months I’ve played the good little inmate—hoping to make things easier on the lawyer Peter had gotten me. Unfortunately, after yesterday’s verdict, the lawyer turned out to be useless. Now I need Peter more than ever. He should be here, reassuring me that everything is going to be okay.
I mean, I know it’s going to be okay, but still. His presence always settles something in me, even if it has left me unsatisfied as of late.
Rafael’s mouth presses into a tight line at the same time Bo’s does—like they’re completely in sync.
Rafie opens his mouth but hesitates before begrudgingly admitting, “Peter didn't say, but…”
The fingers on my free hands drum on the small surface in front of me, each tap of my finger a sharp staccato that can be heard through the partition.
“But what, Rafie?” I ask, keeping my voice calm.
Lily throws both her hands up. Her lips move and I catch the words, “Oh, just tell her already!”
Rafie shakes his head, a soft scoff escaping his lips as his brows pinch together. Bo pushes off the wall and stomps over to where his brother sits. He snatches the phone and brings it to his ear.
With his eyes blazing bright with fury, he snarls, “We have reason to believe that Peter purposely made you the patsy, Tink.”
Shock blankets my anger—momentarily numbing me from the inside out.
Rafie snatches the phone back to add, “Taylor got drunk about a week ago and was rambling about frequencies on the ham radio. He happened to mention the one he’d stumbled upon with Peter while they were hanging out the day of the raid.
According to him, he and Peter had heard the DEA were coming.
When I pressed him, Taylor said Peter told him to hold tight—that he’d be right back—then he slipped out of his window and vanished. ”
Bo attempts to grab the phone back but this time Rafie manages to keep a hold of it. A guard on their side yells at them to behave, but neither listen. The guard doesn’t repeat the order. Instead, she turns her head in another direction like a good little minion.
Both Bo and Rafie bring up the phone between them so they both can talk and hear me.
“The two of us looked back at the security footage,” Bo growls. “And we saw—”
“—Peter slipped out of his window twenty minutes before the DEA arrived,” Rafie picks up quickly, his face darkens as his free hand curls into a fist.
Bo’s fists slam down onto the desk as he swears violently.
He leans closer to the glass, his eyes brightening further as he holds my gaze.
Into the phone he hisses, “He ran, Tink. Peter ran and left us all behind. While you were shoving us out doors and windows, Peter was watching from a distance. He knew you’d be the last one out.
He knew you wouldn’t abandon us. Everyone knows you’re always the last to leave any situation! ”
“You’re one of us, Tink. How can Peter do this?” Rafie asks incredulously. “If he can turn his back on his best friend, what about the rest of us?”
Bo shakes his head in disgust.