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“Wendy—” Tink cries.

“Run!” Blue roars.

Everything comes apart at once.

Blue grabs the dog, Nana shrieks, Wendy bolts for the window with Tink at her back, and I’m flying toward Hook, rushing to kick him when he’s literally down, who gives a fuck, except that’s when he snaps up, and gets a fistful of my shirt.

We both hit the dresser on the way down. And the gun leaves my hand.

I hear it land. Carpet. Somewhere behind the bed⁠—

“Wendy, go!” Fox, from the yard, way too loud. “C’mon, I got you, I got you⁠—”

She’s out. She’s over the sill and gone.

Blue’s got Nana around the ribs—a terrified greyhound like a sack of potatoes, legs going in four directions—and sprints for the door.

“Tink,” I gasp, turning on my side. “Tink, get⁠—”

She’s frozen, stuck, one leg out the window. “No, I won’t⁠—”

“Go!”

She goes. Disappears so there’s nothing in the window but the waving blue light from the pool, reflecting up.

And it’s just me left.

I scramble up. Wind’s knocked out of me, but I can move. Fuck, I’ll swan dive out the window if I have to. Hook is on the floor by the bed, his bad hand braced on the carpet and his good one out in front of him. Reaching.

Somehow, he’s faster than me. He gets to his knees, pushes off his leg, and flies forward, toward the window, arms out in front and something in his hand, in his one good hand⁠—

The gun. My gun.

No. My body moves before my brain does, and I launch myself sideways, blocking the window before he can aim and forcing him to skid to a stop.

“Hey!” I bark. “Over here.”

And he looks. Over here.

Except…I don’t have anything. Fuck, I’ve had my whole adult life to come up with something to say to this guy, something cutting and clever and vindicating, and I’ve got absolutely nothing.

So I just hold out my arms a little, standing there in the frame, taking up the whole entire window. And somehow words find their way out of my mouth anyway.

“Don’t shoot her.”

The sound is enormous.

Everything goes very bright, then very slow. Something slams into me, hard, like brass knuckles on a giant fist, and then the room tips up and away from me and the pink goes sliding up out of sight and all I’m seeing is sky.

Huh, I think. Stars.

You never see stars in London Valley.

CHAPTER 31

PAN

Splash.