Peter stared at his phone in disbelief as the line disconnected. Jax, who he thought he would never hear from again, might have given him a second chance to save the person he loved. Peter knew where Wendy was heading. That was all that mattered at that point. He didn’t have time to question Jax’s motives.

Peter wanted to crow in excitement, but he didn’t have time to waste because he was flying in the wrong direction. Peter corrected his course and called Slightly, who was closer to where she was heading.

Slightly answered the phone. “Yeah?”

“Be ready for a pickup,” Peter said.

Minutes later, Slightly was waiting with his motorcycle parked off to the side of the road, his helmet on the seat. He waved to acknowledge that he saw Peter and turned away from him, lifting his arms. Peter swooped in, picking him up under his arms and lifted him into the air.

“Where is she?” Slightly asked as they flew toward Brookestone Street.

“In the white van.”

“I see it,” Slightly said, pointing.

Peter could see it coming up too, and it was about to go inside a tunnel.

“Faster, Peter," Slightly encouraged.

Peter flew as quick as he could, dangling Slightly in the air just above and ahead of the van.

“Okay, do it!” Slightly called over his shoulder.

Peter let Slightly drop, the teen transforming midair into his bulk form, his whole body tripling in size, his muscles bulging and ripping through his shirt. Slightly roared as he landed on the van, his weight denting the top, causing the vehicle to sway into the other lane. He punched through the roof, pulling back the metal like a can of tuna.

The Red Skulls opened fire on Slightly from inside the van, but their bullets bounced off his thick skin. He reached inside, grabbing a Red Skull and slamming him into a second, knocking them both unconscious.

The driver of the van sped up toward the low-clearance tunnel, aiming to knock Slightly off the roof.

Peter snatched Slightly, hauling him down and behind the van, just before the ceiling almost removed his head. Peter groaned, holding on tight; he wasn’t strong enough to carry Slightly in his bulky form.

“Throw me!” Slightly growled, and Peter launched him onto the back of the van. Slightly seized the bumper, digging his heels into the road, halting the van in the middle of the tunnel. Peter entered the rear door and paused as the sight of two unconscious Wendys greeted him.

The driver cried out as Slightly physically yanked him out of his seat and threw him into the back of an oncoming dump truck.

“Smell ya later,” Slightly called out, his voice deeper in his bulky form.

Inside the van, two bodies lay very still among a mess of weapons and gun casings. What was going on?

“Wendy?” Peter said softly and stepped into the van, careful not to disturb the two beings. He knew one of them had to be a fake, but the trick was in determining which one it was.

“Whoa,” Slightly exclaimed as he crawled into the front seat, his body reduced to his normal size, with his stretched and torn clothes hanging off him. He pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “What now?”

“Well . . .” Peter picked up a Beretta and made a show of pulling out the magazine, reinserting it with a click, and racking the slide, loading a round into the chamber. “I say we shoot them both. We know the real Wendy can survive a bullet wound, but can the fake one?”

He pressed the barrel to the nearest girl’s temple. The fake Wendy’s eyes flew open as she leaped at Peter, a knife in her hands. He blocked the swipe with the barrel of the gun and wrestled for control of the combat knife, which went falling to the floor of the van. The fake Wendy shrank and morphed before his eyes into his image, and it was unnerving to wrestle with himself.

“Who are you?” Peter asked.

“I’m you,” he laughed, putting his hands on his hips in a very Peter-like fashion. “Or should I say I’m what you could be?”

“You will never be me.” Peter feinted a punch and then swiped his leg out from under the fake Peter, who toppled forward into the van frame, his head making a loud thud as he slid down to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Peter stepped over him and carefully picked up Wendy, cradling her against his chest. Cars were piling up and blocking their way out of the tunnel.

“This way!” Peter yelled, and they ran out and up the hill, ducking between alleys. They could hear the sirens in the distance drawing closer. When they were farther enough, they slowed. Peter gave Slightly a wane smile. “Never boring, is it?”

Slightly laughed, slapping him on the back. “Nope, but what are you going to do now that she’s no longer safe? I doubt we can force her to come back to Neverwood with us, without her memories. It would be akin to kidnapping.”

Peter was worried. Wendy hadn’t woken up yet and was sleeping peacefully in his arms. He didn’t want to scare her any more than she had already been. What if she awoke and decided that she didn’t like him? What if she wanted nothing to do with him or the Neverwood boys any longer? She wasn’t safe on her own any more—that was abundantly clear. He would have to help her regain her memories. He needed her, and he needed her to remember him.

“We need Dr. Mee,” Peter said, giving Slightly a knowing look.

“I’ll get on it. We tracked Dr. Mee down once. I’m sure we can find her again.”

“But remember, Slightly, she doesn’t want to be found. She made that very clear to us the last time. She could be dangerous.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll bring Curly. No one says no to Curly.”

“Good, but until then we can’t go to Neverwood and going home could be dangerous. I may have to take her to a neutral safe zone and try to win her over slowly.”

“Since when do you ever take things slow?” Slightly scoffed.

“I do when it’s her,” Peter said, gently brushing his lips across her forehead.