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“Cyril?” I ask, moving away from the window and trying to edge into more open ground where I might not trip and bust my face open on a tree root. I’m not quite sure it’s him, either. It’s only his hair and the way he stands that look familiar, but those aren’t exactly identifying features when it comes down to it.
He leans forward, his face partially illuminated by the light coming from the window, and itisCyril. It’s both a relief andnotbecause I really shouldn’t be here. Especially with him here to catch me.
“Prettysure we had this talk,” he reminds me, hands shoved in his pockets. “Like three days ago, remember? Outside ofThe Den?”
I do remember, but I shake my head and look bewildered. “What talk?” I ask, trying to sound clueless. “I’m not sure what you mean, actually.” Is he mad? He doesn’tseemmad, but I can’t read him well, and I have no idea if he’s secretly planning on how he’s going to kill me and throw my body in there with the other man’s.
“Oh, that’s how we’re going to play this?” My heart speeds up at his words, my stomach twisting harshly, and for the first time, Idowant to vomit. “With you pretending you don’t know what you’ve done wrong? Should I treat you like a puppy and rub your nose in hisbloodto get the point across?”
“I’m not really afraid of blood, so I might miss the point.” When I panic, my brain-to-mouth filter gets put on hold, and right now, I’d do anything for it to power back online. I really shouldn’t say shit like this to Cyril, but apparently, I just can’t help myself, damn it.
“I noticed. I thought you’d vomit when Ezra cut off his fingers. But you didn’t. You didn’t even look offended by it.”
“I…hide my delicate sensibilities well?”
“Or maybe you just don’t have any.” He pushes off the tree and strides toward me, but this time I don’t let my fear root me to the ground to wait for him tograbme and throw me to the wolves. Or, in this case, to his Lost Boys.
I pivot on my heel and turn around, fully prepared to sprint through the woods like I’ve never sprinted before. I’m not exactly well versed in cardio, a fact that’s pretty clear by my ass and my thighs, but I’m suddenly pretty sure I could outrun any Olympic track star in my need to get away from here.
Unfortunately, I don’t get the chance to put my newfound confidence in my leg muscles to the test. As soon as I spin around togo, I’m stopped by Ashe’s solid chest and his hands on my arms that dig into my skin hard enough for me to stop and take notice.
My chin jerks upward, my head nearly colliding with Ashe’s, and I glare at him like he’s the source of all my problems, not Cyril.
“Let go,” I tell him firmly, and Ashe just looks at me like I’ve demanded something ridiculous.
“I really thought the fingers would make you squeal,” Ezra drawls, prowling around Ashe to grin at me. His eyes are dark and cold, though when he smiles, it’s full of some kind of morbid joy that I can’t help but worry about. “Or leave. But you juststoodthere. Like you didn’t mind at all.” He twirls the switchblade in his hand, and Ashe casts Cyril a look as his brows raise in a question.
“You should probably take her home,” he tells their Peter Pan. “He didn’t get to play enough, and he’s in amood.”
"Nope,” Cyril brushes past with a quick pet to my head that ruffles my hair and makes me hiss in annoyance. “Our Wendy Darling wants to exploremyNeverland when I’ve warned her not to? She can play with the Lost Boys at their worst, too.”
“I’m going home,” I tell them, trying not to let any of my fear show through in my words. “I don’t know what I thought I was coming here for, but–”
Cyril rounds on me suddenly, eyes blazing with something between irritation and amusement. “You knew exactly what you were doing here. You wanted to see what the Lost Boys are really all about, even though I’vetold younot to. I’ve said that you shouldstopbeing so nosy, darling.” He reaches forward to tweak my nose, and I jerk back, taking a step to move as far from Cyril as Ashe will let me go. “So here it is. We’rekillers. We’rebad people. That’s what you wanted to find, right?” Cyril shakes his head. “All you had to do was stay home and be a cute little distraction whenever we were around.”
I expect him to say something else, and the others must too because we all stay in place as we watch him go back up the driveway, hands back in his pockets as he walks.
“Don’tbreakher, Ezra,” he calls back after a few moments, pausing to give Ezra a look that’s obviously directed toward the little psychopath, even in the almost pitch-black of the cabin’s shadow.
“I won’t!” Ezra sounds affronted and looks at me with an incredulous grimace. “I wouldnever,” he promises.
“Cool. Then letgo.” I jerk away from Ashe, and this time he lets me stumble back in the gravel, my sneakers kicking up dust.
But then Ezra is there, and before I can do much to steady myself, he has the blade under my chin, and my heart reminds me of how much it would rather be on the ground than in my chest, where the danger seems highest. “Cyrilgaveyou to us to play with,” he reminds me, eyes glittering. “Didn’t you hear him?”
“Last I checked, Cyril doesn’t get to bossmearound,” I retort, though my words are breathy as the cool tip of the knife slides against my skin with just enough pressure to remind me of its sharpness.
“But he kind of does,” Ashe points out, pushing open the cabin door. When I look at him, I see the same dark excitement on his face as Ezra’s, though only moments before, he’d appeared to be so disinterested with the entire thing. “Honestly, I don’t see how you could’ve forgotten?” He reaches forward to grip my hair, dragging me toward him with Ezra close against my back. “YouareLost Boys property after all…or did you forget that just because Isaac likes to take you out for lunch and would never do anything that made you uncomfortable?”
“He’s not back yet, by the way. He won’t be back until tomorrow.” Ezra drapes his arms over my shoulders, then pulls me back to his chest so that I’m fully trapped between them with nowhere to go. “So there’s no one to come along andsaveyou from the two of us.”
“And we’re arguably the two people you want to be stuck with theleast,” the long-haired man in front of me points out.
I can’t get over the fear in my stomach or the way my hands shake as I grip Ezra’s arms around my shoulders.
“Since–” I swallow heavily and try to force myself not to stutter. I don’twantthem to know how afraid of them I am, especially with the way Ezra is running his lips along the side of my throat, dangerously close to my still-healing tattoo. “Since I don’t have anything to tell you, and I definitely didn’t try to slit Ezra’s throat, can we skip the burning, the stabbing, and the finger-taking?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light like I’m not petrified. “And get right to the murder?”
Ezra pauses and pulls back; his face screwed up in genuine confusion as he meets my eyes. “Murder?” he repeats. “Last I checked, the guy who did this is very,verydead.” He gestures to the bandage on his neck.
