“Give me the vial. He can’t hurt you anymore. You can leave. The Lost Kids, my family, Bella … you’ll all be safe,” I say, blinking the rain from my eyes and meeting his. “Please, Pete. Let’s just get out of here.”
The stubborn resistance I have come to appreciate and admire in him slips. He nods with reluctance and hands me the vial of iridescent, milky liquid. Carefully, I close my fingers over the tube. Doc gives me a weak grin. A strange expression crosses Pete’s face. He nods to Doc, and I get the impression that gesture is more than what it appears.
Doc starts walking toward Hook when Pete grabs him by the arm.
“Wait,” Pete says abruptly, his hand gripping Doc’s wrist. “It’s been a great adventure. Thanks for everything …”
A crease forms between Doc’s brows and he drops his gaze to the ground. “It’s the least I could do. I know it doesn’t absolve me from what happened with Gabrielle, but at least … well, maybe it …”
Pete pulls Doc into a hug. “All is forgiven,” Pete says. Their exchange lasts just a moment too long. That’s when I notice the glint of a dagger tucked at the small of Pete’s back. Pete steps back, his hand still gripping Doc’s. His eyes bore into Doc’s.
My heart skips several beats. Hook barely acknowledges the exchange as his gun’s aim stays fixed on me. I struggle to think of an alternative plan. Stomp on the vial myself? Make a deal with Hook? Run? None of the options seems viable.
“Let my family go,” I say, holding the glass container up and drawing Hook’s attention away from Pete and Doc.
Hook’s eyes tear from the Lost Boys to me. From the corner of my eye, I see Pete quickly slipping the knife into Doc’s hand. Hook nods toward the two soldiers accompanying my mother. “Escort them from the palace.” The soldiers salute and turn toward my mother.
“No!” my mother screams, wriggling in the soldiers’ grasp. “No, I won’t leave her.”
Mikey wails as Joanna helps him to his feet. She gives me a worried glance, but I nod to her, encouraging her to continue. She and Mikey follow behind the soldier dragging my mother away. Another soldier escorts Bella out of the courtyard. Her voice fades in a trail of profanities.
Hook erupts in manic laughter. “And what about you, stepbrother? Would you like to join the women and children?”
Jack aims his sword at Hook. “I might be a pitiful pirate and an inadequate Lost Boy, but I think I’ll stay around just to make sure everyone keeps their end of the bargain.”
Hook rolls his unpatched eye. “Good form, Jack. That’s exactly what I’d expect from you.” He sneers on the last word.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jack asks.
“My mother was right about you. You’ve always been about what you think is right for everyone else, what you think is fair, and never about what is right for us, for our family,” Hook says. “You’re a disgrace to the family name.”
Jack’s shoulders stiffen. “And you think only about yourself.”
“‘The fairest,’ my mother mocked. ‘A weak leader, bending to the needs of others,’ she said of you,” Hook says. “She never loved you.”
“I never wanted to be a leader,” Jack replies. “I just wanted my father’s legacy, his compassion for his people, to live on long after his death. He was a kind and fair king. And as far as her loving me, at least I had a parent. A father who loved me. You know what your mother did? Think about it. Do you really think she didn’t know what she was targeting? She sent her son to destroy the only weapons lab that contained the virus. She knew it was there. And guess who she sent to make sure it was a done deal? You, stepbrother. She sent you knowing that once you bombed it, you and the rest of the Marauders would die like everyone else.”
Hook releases me as he spins and charges his brother, his boots smacking the wet brick. He slaps Jack’s face, but Jack hardly flinches. “Lies!” Hook screams.
“You think?” Jack says, unmoved. “She gave you the targets. She chose you and her best fleet of zeppelins to make sure it happened.”
Hook stops a few steps away, fury forming deep lines in his face. Turning toward the stormy night sky, he screams. Breathing heavily, he gathers himself together. “Well, life isn’t fair, is it? Your father died a tragic death, and I was the scorn of my mother’s eye,” he yells, pointing the barrel of his gun at his patched eye.
“Your mother killed my father,” Jack says, advancing on him. “She poisoned him for betraying her. For providing England with her weapon.”