Page 45 of The Never Queen

By some miracle, I did graduate on time, though my grades were never stellar. I was just trying to survive high school. I think in the back of my mind I had already resigned myself to going mad like my mother and her mother, and every Darling that came before me.

My mantra back then was I might as well have fun while I still had the time.

Except now I’m back in my old life, running from my new life, because someone is trying to kill me.

It almost feels like my new life is trying to reject me, like I’m a transplant with the wrong blood type, a queen made of the wrong stuff.

Being back in the Victorian, my old life staring me in the face, I can’t ignore that curdling feeling in my gut that I don’t belong, that I’m not queenly. That I was a fool to hope I was better than I was.

I swallow, a burning starting in my sinuses. I don’t have time to be emotional.

Beside me, Vane puts his hand at the small of my back, a reassuring weight against the wave of fear.

I wish I could hide more from him. I wish I had the ability to retreat like he does. He just has far more experience with an island shadow than I do. Which means all of me is exposed to him and it floods me with relief and with embarrassment.

We follow the path around the side of the yard where it spills into a backyard edged in rotting fencing and overgrown lilac bushes. There’s a bonfire in the middle of the yard, the walls erected out of red bricks and thick, gloppy cement. Mismatched lawn chairs form a loose circle around the pit, but half the people in attendance are grouped around the folding table along the side yard where various bottles of liquor, soda, and mixes are set up.

“Winnie fucking Darling!” Tad shouts when he spots me, and then his enthusiasm quickly subsides once he sees Vane, then Pan, Bash, and Kas.

My men are every bit the dark fairytales that could just as easily seduce you as murder you with their bare hands. I love that about them. I’ve never felt as safe as I do with Pan and the Lost Boys. But in the real world, in my world, I don’t know how to handle them. I don’t even know how to introduce them.

“Hey Tad,” I hear myself saying, and just the greeting alone grates against my nerves, yanking me back into a past life I have so desperately tried to escape.

Ella is by Tad’s side and I recognize a few other guys we went to school with, mostly the stoners who could occasionally be good for a shared joint.

Behind Ella, I spot someone who I would much rather not see.

“Are you going to introduce us, Winnie?”

Just the sound of her voice makes me want to snarl.

Holland Bartow elbows her way past Ella so she’s standing directly between us. Holland always operated as if we were rivals, much like Tad and Anthony. But I never had the energy for it. I always thought she was extremely creative, more talented than I could ever hope for, and yet she never seemed satisfied with it.

“Hi Holland,” I say.

Her gaze is wandering over Pan and the boys.

“This is Pan, Kas, Bash, and Vane.” I’m still at the front of the group, the men lined up behind me.

“Which one is yours?” Holland asks.

“All of them,” is Pan’s answer and the firm certainty in his voice sends a delighted chill down my spine.

“Wait,” Ella says.

“All of them?” Holland echoes.

“Yes,” I say because there’s no sense hiding it. I don’t want anyone thinking they have a chance. Because they don’t. I will gut them. With my bare hands.

Holland expels a surprised little laugh. “Are you joking?”

“Why would I joke about that?”

“Well, you know your reputation in high school.”

Ella’s eyes get big. “Holland!”

Even though I have told the boys my nickname from high school, and even though Pan found me in the old, rundown Victorian, thin as a reed, barely surviving, the reminder of it all in front of them makes my stomach twist.