Michael’s head was pounding. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands to relieve the pressure. He knew what the hammering in his mind signified. They were trying to sync with him, to see through his memories. The more painful the headache, the harder they were working to access him. He was doing everything he could to fight them off, but it would only result in either a migraine or he would eventually be knocked unconscious, and they would take what they needed while he was asleep. They didn’t need hidden cameras when they had him.

Michael’s lip curled in disgust, and he rolled over on the bed and focused on the light blue wall. He hated that his mind could be manipulated so easily. Also, anything he saw, Hook could potentially see as well, but he had been burying his memories deep, behind a mental wall of steel.

Michael squeezed his eyes close and focused on the darkness—a void. Nothing. He had learned over time that it was possible to stop them from seeing everything he had seen if he fought hard enough and focused on nothingness. But it took every ounce of his strength and nerve.

What were they seeing? Did they know he had accidentally found his sister? He hoped not.

He had to find a way to keep Neverland out of his head.

---

Peter strolled down the halls of Neverwood, deep in thought, before pausing in front of a wooden panel. He pressed on a hidden lip, and the panel slid open to reveal a hidden staircase leading belowground. He descended until he came to a room containing enclosed prison cells with reinforced glass doors. Slightly, the smartest of the boys, was just coming out of the nearest locked cell.

“How is he?” he asked, referring to the prisoner—Wendy’s brother.

Slightly rubbed the back of his head, bumping his glasses. “Disoriented. He comes and goes. Sometimes he thinks he’s still back there with them. Other times, he’s okay. Today hasn’t been a great day. He keeps calling out for her.”

Peter pressed his lips into a thin line. “Let me talk to him.”

“Peter,” Slightly sighed. “What if he wasn’t the only one? What if there were others? What if Neverland has had them this whole time, like Michael? What if—”

“We can’t change the past, Slightly,” Peter said. “We can’t worry about the what-ifs. We have to focus on the what-nows.”

“But Peter, we messed up.”

“No!” he barked. “We are just the ones left to pick up the pieces. Don’t you dare try to shoulder the blame for something that happened when we were kids. It’s not your fault. It’s Neverland’s fault. They’re the ones that started this. If it weren’t for Dr. Barrie, we’d all be dead or just as messed up as that boy in there.”

“That boy in there has a name. It’s Michael, and he’s Wendy’s brother,” Slightly corrected.

“I know!” Peter snapped but then was appalled at his tone of voice. “I know,” he repeated more softly.

Peter punched the door code and waited for the beep, then walked into Michael’s room, startling the young boy. Michael sat up in bed but kept turning his head to avoid looking at Peter.

“It’s okay, relax,” Peter said, motioning with his hands, and Michael perched on the edge of the bed, barely glancing at Peter.

Peter had to take a deep breath and push aside any feelings of resentment. He was facing Wendy’s killer, but it was also her brother. So, for her sake, he would do everything in his power to save the boy.

“How are you, Michael?” Peter asked.

Michael didn’t answer, just stared at the wall on his left.

Peter’s eyebrow rose. “Okay.”

Footsteps sounded outside as Slightly left them alone and headed back up the stairs. Peter saw Michael glance at the door—his face a mask of fear.

“I’ve told you before; you’re safe here. I’ll make sure that you are safe.”

“Even after . . . after what I did?” he asked doubtfully, before breaking eye contact and looking away.

Peter sighed. His heart hurt, but he nodded. “It was an accident. You didn’t mean to shoot your sister.”

“I know.” Michael closed his eyes and turned his face downward. “I intended to kill you.”

Peter watched the young boy like a hawk, reading every muscle. Michael was tense, a sign that he was about to spring into action, but something was off, especially with his eyes.

“Yes, and I forgive you.” Peter said. He knew that ultimately it wasn’t Michael’s fault. Neverland had done that to him, just as it had nearly destroyed him too. But Peter was finding it easier to forgive Michael for the sins of Neverland than to forgive himself. Peter observed how his words seemed to disarm the boy as Michael’s body language changed. He relaxed his shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“We don’t want you to stay in this room forever, Michael. I’d like you to start sitting in on a few classes, continue your education and training. If that’s ok—”

“No! It’s not safe. I’m not safe. I need to stay here.”

“Michael, they can’t find you here. We’re protected. Safeguarded against them.”

“You’re not safeguarded against me.”

“You?” Peter asked. “Are you going to hurt us?”

“No, no, I understand now. I was just messed up”—he pointed to his head—“here. They did something to me. Now, I’m finally getting better, stronger, and I can fight them, but I won’t be able to forever.”

“Do you mean the morphlings or the Red Skulls?”

“I—” He shook his head, as if to clear it. “I’m not trustworthy.”

The word trust made Peter think of someone else. “I don’t, but Michael, can you tell me what happened to Jax? Where did he go? Is he a traitor?”

“We’re all traitors. I betrayed my own sister. Neverland has that effect on people. And someday you will too.”

“I won’t. I will never betray—”

Michael cut him off. “Where is my sister?”

Silence followed. Peter wasn’t sure how to answer. “I . . . she’s . . . safe.”

Michael looked away. “But you’re here. Maybe you already have betrayed someone.”

His solemn words sat uncomfortably with Peter.

Michael began to twitch, his hands gripping his head. “Hook is doing it again. Peter, you have to promise me that you won’t let me out. It’s better this way.”

“Michael, what’s going on? How can I help?”

“You can’t help me. No one can.”

“Yes, we can.”

“He’s coming, Peter, and you’re running out of time.”

Michael started to make a ticking noise like a clock under his breath and rocked back and forth on the bed, staring at the blue blanket. “Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .”

Peter called out his name, but Michael had retreated inside his mind. Peter, unsure of how to respond, sat in silence as Michael continued to make ticking noises and eventually curled up into a ball and turned his back to him. The sound unnerved Peter, reminding him of a countdown clock.

Peter knew when it was time to go; he clearly wasn’t going to get anything else from Michael today. Tomorrow, he’d try again.

He had much to ponder on as he slid the hidden panel door close before he went into the control room. There he found Tink sitting in front of the computer. Her white-blonde hair was braided tightly against her head, and her left boot was propped up on the desk, with the keyboard on her lap. The opened bags of chips scattered across the desk and the half-eaten pint of ice cream slowly melting into soup were a sure sign that she had found something.

“What did you find, Tink?” Peter asked, leaning over her chair.

“Nothing,” she mumbled. “I can’t find diddly-squat. The second location was empty, just like the first. By the time we get there, the place is a ghost town.”

“Which means?”

“It can’t be their main headquarters. Just pop-up black sites. I can’t figure out how they’re disappearing so quickly after we nail down their location. I mean if they are kidnapping the kids, they aren’t keeping them in any one place for longer than twenty-four hours. They must be transporting them somewhere else. I just can’t figure out where.”

“You’ll find them, Tink. I know you will,” Peter encouraged her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“But not in time. I need to find a way to track the kids. Maybe if we let them capture one of the boys, I could trace the light brace and see their location.”

“Tink,” Peter warned angrily. He would never sacrifice one of his boys for a suicidal mission. He wouldn’t let Neverland have any of his boys again.

“Well, Ditto already volunteered, and—”

“No! And don’t even suggest it again.”

“But Peter, I can’t guess who the Red Skulls are going to take next. I haven’t found a pattern to their abductions. I can’t place tracers on every teenager in the country.”

“Find another way,” he demanded.

Tink slumped back into her chair and threw him an irritated look.

“Fine,” she whined. “Too bad Jax’s bracer was destroyed. He’d have led us right there—the traitor.” The last word she said under her breath. “If only I’d put a tracer into his brain.” She seemed a little too eager at the prospect and began to mumble to herself.

Peter could feel the tension in his shoulders at the mention of his friend. Just thinking about Jax made him grind his teeth until a headache started. “You’ll never get the chance. Because if he ever shows his face here again, I’ll kill him.”