Darling - K. Ancrum Page 0,59

desperation of someone who isn’t drinking for fun. “How much longer do we have?” he asked, coughing.

Ominotago pulled out her phone. “Twenty minutes. We almost didn’t make it in time.”

“In time for what?” Wendy asked.

“The police to get here,” Ominotago said so quietly that Wendy had to read her lips.

Wendy didn’t get a chance to say anything to that whopper of a statement before Tinkerbelle covered Wendy’s mouth with her whole hand.

“We can’t talk about it anymore,” Tinkerbelle hissed. “Just make sure you’re with one of us and head for the exits. Don’t worry about them grabbing you. I said I’d protect you, and I meant it.”

Wendy smacked Tinkerbelle’s hand off her mouth and pushed herself up from the couch. “Fuck this. I’m taking my chances and walking home. Thanks for the drink, Ominotago, it’s been swell.” Wendy whirled on her heel, ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“WENDY, STOP!”

The only reason she turned around was because it was Minsu who had shouted. He sounded more serious than she’d heard him all night, his voice strangled with desperation.

Wendy faced the group. She could see Peter, Curly, and Nibs making their way up the mezzanine stairs on the other side of the building; it wouldn’t take more than five minutes for the trio to reach them.

Minsu held out both his hands to her plaintively. “I know you’re scared,” he said, voice cracking. “Don’t you think we’re scared, too? You’ve only been here for a few hours. Curly has been with him for years.”

Ominotago folded her arms and scowled, but Wendy could tell that she was more hurt than angry. In fact, all of them looked hurt. Charles’s wide-eyed terror was beginning to creep back into his face. Tinkerbelle still held her hand where Wendy had slapped it away, her cheeks hot and red. Fyodor’s gaze burned as he glared at the ground and refused to participate.

Minsu lowered his hands. “We only have a few chances, and this took ages to plan. You saw how he gets away anytime anything happens! Please, Wendy.”

She couldn’t hear Peter’s approaching footsteps over the thumping beat, but it still felt like she could.

“You promised,” Tinkerbelle said, her voice thick with tears. “You spit-shook on it.”

Wendy closed her eyes and clenched her fists.

She didn’t know these people. Spit-shaking meant nothing to her before tonight. It was after midnight, and her parents were probably already home from the party and furious. Her phone barely had any battery the last time she checked, and it was probably dead by now, so there was no way for her family or Eleanor to contact her. It was still too early for an Amber Alert, so there was no one looking for her. The police—if they were truly coming—would be here to raid this party, not to help her or be on her side. She was never going to see these people ever again after tonight; their problems really weren’t her problems. Their suffering was none of her business. This was too dangerous, and the stakes were too high. If she pushed through the crowd and took off at a sprint, Wendy could remember the way to the train station. Peter continued to stride across the mezzanine as the beat throbbed in her ears. She could go home, she could go home, she could go home.

Wendy opened her eyes.

She grabbed her drink back from Ominotago and chugged the entire thing, chewing through the cherries while the entire group watched in suspense. Wendy saw that Peter was only twenty feet away now, his eyes focused hard on the back of Tinkerbelle’s head as he wove through the crowd.

“Fyodor,” Wendy shouted loud enough for Peter to hear.

Fyodor finally pried his eyes away from the tile and looked up at Wendy solemnly.

“Will you dance with me?” Wendy demanded, thinking quickly.

Fyodor stood and looked Wendy up and down just as Peter broke through to them.

“Yes,” Fyodor said, eyes dark and voice rough. He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs.

Wendy couldn’t leave the group without glancing back. She saw Peter talking sternly to Tinkerbelle, but Ominotago was watching Wendy and Fyodor leave with a smile tucked in the corner of her eyes and her chin tilted up with pride.

Fyodor wrapped his arm around Wendy’s back and nearly carried her down the last three stairs.

They stumbled through the crowd to the middle of the room—in view of all exits, Wendy realized, and far enough from the speakers that the music buzzed in her