“You shouldn’t be here,” Peter muttered to himself. Every night you’re here, you’re endangering her more.

He closed his eyes and let out a strained breath. No. Being there was his choice. He knew that was for the best. He had almost kept Wendy with him at Neverwood, and when she came to, he could have tried to explain everything. Then again, she might have thought they were keeping her prisoner and ended up resenting him. Better to wake up somewhere semi-familiar and with family than to try and convince her that being at Neverwood with him was where she belonged.

He contemplated her open window, the bedroom curtain fluttering in the night breeze. The internal battle between his heart and brain had caused him many restless nights—to the point where he hardly slept anymore. Often, he would find himself in that exact spot, perched on a tree across the street, watching her house.

She was safe—for the time being.

The Red Skulls hadn’t returned or made any attempt on Wendy’s home, but it was only a matter of time. Her gifts were powerful, which encouraged shadows to congregate—which would in turn attract morphlings. And morphlings would inevitably bring the Red Skulls along.

The rustling of a shrub beneath her window set him on high alert, and he reached for the light brace and activated it, creating a faint hum. He floated, hovering twenty feet high in the air, still hidden by the thick tree bough, positioned to strike at a moment’s notice.

A furry animal head with dark tufted ears and beady eyes peeked out of the bush, then quickly disappeared, and Peter relaxed and floated back down to the branch. It was just Fox, one his boys, in his shifted animal form. He had forgotten that it was his turn to watch the house. After Jax’s betrayal, Fox had stepped up, shouldering more of the responsibilities of running Neverwood Academy. Peter trusted him the most to stand guard outside Wendy’s house because of his nocturnal nature.

Then again, if he completely trusted Fox to protect Wendy from the Red Skulls, he would just leave and let Fox do his job. But Peter knew deep down he could do it better.

He slowly knelt back into a crouch and turned his gaze back to Wendy’s open window and frowned. She really shouldn’t sleep with her window open.

He glanced back at the bushes where Fox was probably still hiding, and he decided to intervene. He didn’t care if the other lost boy saw him.

Peter flew to the window and peeked inside. His breath caught in his throat. There she was, strawberry blonde hair splayed on the pillow, giving her the illusion of having a halo of gold. Her head moved, and she began tossing and turning, waving her hand in the air, and then she cried out in her sleep.

“Peter,” Fox called softly from below.

He glanced over his shoulder at Fox, who was back in his human form, furiously shaking his head in warning—he already knew what his fearless leader was going to do. Peter smiled wryly in return. Since when did he take orders from anyone?

Peter was in the process of sliding Wendy’s window shut when he heard her cry out from inside.

“No, I can’t,” she mumbled in her sleep. “I’ll fall.”

It was a punch to the gut. He had heard those words before. Awake she couldn’t remember him, but apparently, her subconscious could recall quite a bit.

He pushed the window open wider, flew into her room, and hovered protectively over her, his feet never finding purchase on the floor.

Beads of sweat glistened across her brow. Peter gently stroked her hair, trying to calm her.

“Shh, don’t worry. I’ll always catch you,” he whispered, placing the gentlest of kisses on her cheek.

Her eyelids fluttered as she roused from her slumber. Peter needed to leave before she awoke to find him—a stranger—in her room. He departed as stealthily as he entered, closing the window with a soft click behind him. The cold air helped clear the tumultuous feelings of guilt that plagued him as he flew into the night.

---

Wendy was in a spiral—a never-ending deadfall, unable to catch her breath, locked in a silent scream as she plummeted to her death. Seconds before impact, a dark figure swooped in and caught her before she collided with the ground.

With a gasp, she sat up, suddenly awake and alert, her heart beating frantically inside her chest. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she looked about her darkened room, trying to regain her bearings. This was her room. This was her bed.

She pressed her hand to her chest as she tried to slow her breathing. Her bedroom curtain shifted slightly despite her window being closed. She could have sworn it was open when she fell asleep. Was she becoming forgetful? Had she closed it and just forgotten? Forgotten like the weeks she had gone missing only to reappear in that very bedroom, with no memories? The only thing that was constant was her dreams.

She tried to recall her dream. It was easy because she had the same one almost nightly since her return. She was on a high ledge or roof, and then she was falling to her death. Moments before she hit the ground, someone always saved her, but she could never see who. No matter how hard she tried, the stranger never came into focus. But she always felt safe pressed against his chest, enveloped in his presence.

Brushing her fingers across her cheek, she could almost feel the stranger’s touch, smell his scent. How odd that she would be having fantasies about a dream savior!

Frustrated, Wendy plopped back onto her pillow and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was after midnight. She rolled over to face the window and noticed her bedroom curtain was moving slightly. No, she wasn’t losing her mind—someone had closed it. It must have been her mom. A large shadow flew past her window. It’s a bird, Wendy thought, yawning. Her eyes gradually closed in sleep.

---

“Peter!” Fox called his name again as he flew above the roof. Unlike before, the warning held a threat to it.

Peter spun midair and saw the shadows gathering on the outskirts of Wendy’s yard, more than he had ever seen before. His hands clenched in anger. He knew without looking at his phone that there were enough to create a dead zone. A morphling would be there soon. He needed the shadows gone.

“Can you scatter them?” he called down to Fox.

Fox pulled his specter goggles over his eyes, allowing him to see the shadows that normal eyes couldn’t.

“I’m on it.” Fox grinned, holding his light brace in the air before shifting into his smaller, faster counterpart, and then dashed across the yard. Moments later, flares shot out across the yard, and Peter watched as the shadows scattered, although some hung farther back as if they weren’t quite ready to abandon their target.

A black car with tinted windows drove leisurely up the street. Peter descended onto the backside of the house roof and then leaned over the peak so that he could monitor the car’s progress. There was no reason for the car to be driving that slow unless it was patrolling for something or someone.

He drew out his phone, dialed, and waited for a breathless Fox to answer.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Don’t call me boss.” Peter frowned. “Do you see that car?”

“The black Escalade . . . yep. Do you want me to double-dog it?” A breathy laugh followed.

“Yeah, and Fox . . . be careful,” Peter warned.

A few seconds later, Fox in his vulpine form limped into the middle of the road, before slowing to a crawl about fifty feet ahead of the car. The Escalade decelerated; Fox, bathed in the looming headlights, stilled.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Peter muttered, hoping to get the driver to reveal himself. A concerned citizen might honk the horn or get out and help, maybe even call animal control.

The Escalade’s engine rumbled as it slowed to a stop. The passenger window lowered with a hum, and a hand holding a gun reached out and took aim.

“Fox!” Peter called out. The gun went off; the bullet ricocheted off the ground, just missing Fox as he darted up from the pavement and scrambled to the side, the sound silenced by the compressor. Only dangerous people–people like Red Skulls—used silencers.

Peter sprung onto the car from above, his foot knocking the gun from the assailant’s hand. There was a scream of surprise from inside, and Peter didn’t hesitate, flinging the car door open. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to see a Red Skull in the black military uniform with the red skull and crossbones patch on the arm. Grabbing the man by the back of the uniform, he flew him straight into the air.

“You!” the man grunted before looking down and seeing the car growing smaller as Peter pulled him up into the sky. The Red Skull attempted to swat and swing at Peter, but the higher they flew, the more panicked he became. He looked down and started to scream in terror, latching onto Peter’s wrist over his head to keep from falling.

Another yell rent the air as Fox jumped into the car through the open passenger door, attacking the driver of the Escalade.

The second Red Skull abandoned the vehicle and took off in a run, a chunk of his uniform missing, with Fox hot on his tail.

The man Peter was holding continued to writhe and wiggle, and Peter warned him, “Careful, or I’ll drop you.”

“You’re nothing more than a teenage freak. Wait till we get our hands on you, you piece of scum.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to hurt my feelings,” Peter said mischievously as he flew farther south toward the quarry, leaving the vicinity of Wendy’s house.

“They’re coming for you—and the girl,” the man snarled as he continued to fight Peter’s hold. “Just you wait. They’re getting stronger. Soon, there will be nothing that can stop them. Not even you, fly boy.”

“Who’s getting stronger?” Peter demanded. He pretended to lose his grip and let the man slide out of his grasp for a split second. The man screamed in terror. Peter snatched him up again by the front of his uniform. “Tell me.”

“Who do you think?” the man blubbered.

“They’re creating more super humans. The kidnapped kids,” Peter answered.

“They never stopped, but you knew that.”

“But we destroyed Neverland.” Peter swung the man.

“Wrong, you destroyed a building; Neverland is more than a place. It’s an idea. You can’t kill an idea once it is born,” he said with a wicked laugh.

“You can if you cut off the head,” Peter said. “So, tell me, how do I find the snake’s head? How do I find Hook?”

“You don’t find Hook. Hook finds you, and then you die.” The man sputtered as Peter jerked the uniform around his throat.

Peter’s arms were tiring, and he was struggling to keep hold of the bulky soldier, but he wanted more answers. The Red Skulls wouldn’t let that slide. Once they learned how many secrets their soldier had spilled, they would probably kill him. It would probably be better if he took care of him then, before he ever went back to them.

Peter’s muscles were screaming, and he was going to drop him soon, but something shimmered up at him from down below. He was almost at his destination. “If Neverland has these super soldiers, what do you think is going to happen to you?” Peter asked. “They won’t need you anymore. I guess, like me, you will be old news, and do you know what happens with old news?”

The man began to whimper. “W—what?”

“It gets thrown in the trash.” He began to loosen his grip.

“No. No. Don’t drop me,” the Red Skull begged.

But even if he wanted to, Peter couldn’t hold him forever. He uncurled his fingers and let him go. The man yelled and clawed at the sky, reaching for anything to grab. Peter playfully waved down at his disappearing figure.

The soldier hit the dark water with a splash and disappeared beneath the depths. A few very long seconds later, he surfaced, sputtering and cursing. Peter laughed and left him to find his way out of the water-filled quarry. He needed to get back to Fox and check in on Wendy.

As he flew back, his phone began buzzing in his pocket, and he answered, hearing Fox’s laughter on the other end.

“That was fun. We should do it more often.”

“Did you take care of him?”

“Yep, chased him into a shed, and he’s locked inside. Someone will eventually find him.” The sound of an engine revving filled the speaker, which meant that Fox had decided to relieve the remaining Red Skull of his vehicle. “Whoa! Pete, this thing’s a beauty. You’ve got to try driving it.”

“Don’t call me Pete!”

“Okay, boss.”

Peter chuckled. “It’s probably got a tracker,” he warned.

“Counting on it. Going to take it through a few camera-operated speed traps before ditching it in front of the police station.”

“You want to make them pay, don’t you?”

Fox’s laugh continued. “Yes, they’re going to get a massive speeding ticket, courtesy of the Neverwood boys.”

Peter hung up when he was back in front of Wendy’s house. He sighed. Things couldn’t stay the same much longer. He knew Hook was gunning for him. It was only a matter of time.