Page 17 of The Never Queen

How far do I want to run?

How quickly do I want him to catch me?

“Two.”

Smoke ribbons in the air and outside the treehouse, crickets fill the night.

“Three.”

I turn around and run.

I burst out of the treehouse like a Shadow. Cool, wet dirt presses between my toes as I run for the woods.

The moon is thinning but it feels like it’s particularly hiding tonight so that I’m already stumbling over roots and fallen branches, losing my footing. I could fly, but that’s not as much fun as being chased on the ground.

There is a primal feeling that rises up along with the adrenaline when your bare feet meet cool earth in a game of cat and mouse.

I cut to the left, finding the path that winds through the trees, connecting the treehouse to Darlington Port.

But the moment I sense Vane is out of the treehouse, when the Neverland forest goes still, I realize the path is a mistake. He’ll find me in an instant.

I cut back into the woods, ducking beneath a branch.

The hair along my neck lifts.

Fuck, he’s already too close.

I wind around a cluster of evergreen trees as the sound of footsteps grows nearer, his pounding against the earth with the confidence of someone who’s hunted often.

My breathing quickens, heart pounding.

There’s nowhere I can hide from him.

Nowhere at all.

He closes the distance quickly.

The Shadow pulses between us, delighted at the game.

Vane grabs me by the hair and yanks and I lose my momentum. But I’m not through yet.

I spin and punch him in the gut.

He drops my hair and staggers back, laughing.

I don’t wait. I’m running again, chasing deeper shadows in the forest, trying to find some cover.

Vane wastes no time, back on my trail. And as I run and as he chases, every huff of air, every lick of the cool night air, every thud of his footsteps chasing mine is amplified until I feel, for once, like a god.

A god of the Neverland forest, getting exactly what she wants.

Vane catches up to me and tackles me to the forest floor.

We hit the dirt, skid across a litter of wet leaves. His hand claws into my hair, pressing hard against my scalp while his hips press against my ass.

Within seconds, the leather of his belt is snapping free of his pants then winding around my wrists, now held at the small of my back.

The belt is yanked tight, binding me in place.