Page 131 of Locked in Wonderland

I gestured angrily toward Wonderland, the island seeming to taunt me from across the water. “I’m just supposed to let everything that happens over there carry on? People lured there to become sex slaves. People imprisoned. Sold. Kellan Hart raping and torturing anyone he pleases. People trapped in a slum because they can’t leave. Percy and Lola wielding scalpels and playing dress-up like they’re dealing with mannequins instead of human beings.”

I searched for anything I’d missed. “The art gallery. The drugging. You expect me to know all that and do nothing?”

“If you want to stay alive, yes.” His voice remained maddeningly calm. “Do you really think you can take on an organization like Wonderland?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You can’t. You have no idea of the breadth of legal expertise the Harts have at their disposal. Their lawyers would chew you up and spit you out before breakfast. You think you know a lot. You’ve barely scratched the surface. They make millions. If you think they’ll surrender that without a fight, you’re even more naïve than I thought.”

“You could do it.”

“I could.”

“But you won’t.”

“It would be stupid. Some might say suicidal.” He gave a slight shrug. “And I’m many things, but I’m not suicidal.”

“Or you just don’t want to incriminate yourself.”

“Or that.”

A woman walking her dog passed us. Her determined effort not to look our way suggested that our raised voices had carried. The dog had no such reservations, almost tripping over its own paws in its eagerness to look back at us.

“Promise me,” Nico said.

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t go to the police. That you won’t tell anyone what happened. That you’ll make something up.”

I pictured myself walking into another police station with an even more unbelievable story than the first time. Then I imagined sitting opposite a friend in a cafe and casually explaining that I’d been drugged, sold, and nearly ended up as someone’s ‘dog.’

“I promise.”

“Good.” A flicker of relief crossed his face before disappearing. “I didn’t get you out of there just so you could walk straight back into danger.”

“You almost sound as if you care.”

“I do care.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I already explained—”

“Yeah, yeah.” I waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fully Stockholm-syndromed because I don’t know my own mind.”

“You need time.”

When he pushed himself away from the railing, panic flared inside me. “Come to the hotel tonight.” My words came out in a rush. “You have to sleep somewhere. Then you can leave in the morning.”

He shook his head. “It’s better this way.”

“Better for you, maybe. I’ve had all of three seconds to get used to the idea. I’m only asking for a few more hours.”

He took a couple of slow steps backward. “Think carefully about what you want, Lysander. If you decide that’s me… come and find me.”

“Find you! How the fuck am I supposed to do that? I know nothing about you except your name.”

His silence made me want to slap him. The urge vanished as soon as he turned and walked away. I shoved a hand into my pocket, my fingers brushing the cold metal there.

“Wait.” He kept walking. “Nico, wait.”

This time he stopped and turned back. I held up his watch. “I forgot to give this to you.”