Hooked: Chapter 46

How many secret family members does James have?

My wrists burn from where the rope was tied around them. I shake out my fingers, ignoring the throbbing in my head and the dried blood that pulls the skin on my face.

I woke up in a fog, a gun pressed to my temple, and Smee threatening James’s life. There are cuts on my wrist from where I fought against the rope, and honestly, I’ve never felt as helpless as when I saw James fall to his knees—a slave to his trauma.

If my father hadn’t killed Smee, I would have.

Anger floods through me like hot lava at how my father tricked me. Used my brother to get me here and allowed Tina to abuse me and tie me up.

That’s not love.

James laughs, his eyes wincing as he hunches over. Worry grips my chest tight, wondering just how badly he’s injured.

“You’re fucking with me,” he says. “A cousin and a brother? Must be my lucky day.”

My eyes snag on Tina as she inches closer to where I am.

My father taps his gun on his leg, his stance rigid, his eyes as hard as steel. If you had asked me a month ago, I would have told you there was no way my father owned weapons. Yet here he is, looking every bit the gangster.

“I wish I were joking,” he says.

James shakes his head and stumbles, his hand dropping his knife to the ground. My stomach falls to the floor, and I start to move, but I’m yanked back by the hair, Tina gripping me tight. “I don’t think so.”

I briefly consider fighting against her hold, but I don’t want to take my eyes off James, afraid that if I do, something terrible will happen. Panic spreads through my veins.

My father steps forward, kicking the knife out of the way and moving in front of James, pushing the gun into his forehead until he drops to his knees.

“Dad,” I plead, my heart slamming against my chest. “Stop it.”

He looks back at me. “Can you not see the resemblance, Wendy?”

“Resemblance to who?”

Tina pulls on my hair, making me wince.

“To Jon!” he snaps. “The bastard child of your mother and my old business partner, Arthur.”

My breath whooshes out of me, shock ramming my gut. “What? No, Mom would nev—”

“Please, Wendy,” my father laughs. “You’re always so naive.”

James’s mouth parts, his face growing pale. “Jonathan is… my brother?”

“Technically, half.” My father crouches down, taking two fingers and jamming them into James’s side. “I thought you had died with them.”

James curls over, groaning in pain, his face screwed up tight.

My stomach jerks as I choke out fumbled words. “Dad, please,” I beg. “If you’ve ever loved me at all, you’ll st-stop.” My chest burns, and Tina giggles from behind me. “Haven’t you done enough?” I gasp, my tears hot as they stream down my face.

My father pauses, removing his bloodied fingers and standing straight. He looks at me, his gaze growing soft. “I do love you, Little Shadow. But I cannot let this man survive. He burned all of my planes. He disrespected my offer of business. He spit in my face and paraded my daughter around like a cheap whore on his arm.”

Fury and grief war together for first place in my soul.

And as all of his declarations slot into place in my brain, any confusion I’ve ever had drains away, clarity overcoming every sense. I understand now why my father never paid any mind to Jon.

Why Jon has black hair and dark features, so similar to our mother’s, but also a lot like James.

Disbelief coasts through me, a whispered question dancing inside my brain.

My father turns back to James, pressing the barrel of his revolver against his head, and clicking back the hammer. “Any last words, Hook?”

“Bad form, Peter,” James grits out. “Not quite a fair fight.”

He looks past my father, locking his cloudy eyes on me. He licks his lips, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t say it,” I hiss, my stomach twisting until it tears. “Don’t you dare say it.”

He smiles, and I swear to God the sight makes me want to die.

“The greatest thing I’ve ever done in my life was to love you, Wendy, darling.”

My heart cracks in my chest, agony ripping through me so deep it brands my soul. A guttural sob escapes my throat, making my father spin around. I thrash my body violently against Tina’s hold, my head snapping back into her skull, her grip growing slack.

Ripping myself away, I stumble on the ground, rising on my hands and knees to crawl toward Starkey’s body, reaching out at the same moment Tina grips my ankle.

She was fast.

But not fast enough.

I twist in her hold, raising the revolver to her face, and without another thought, I shoot.

Blood explodes from the side of her head, my stomach heaving as it splashes on my legs, her lifeless body falling back and crumpling on the floor.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, slowly standing, focusing my eyes on where my father has James on his knees.

They both stare at me, frozen with eyes wide.

Tears stream down my face, the fragments of my heart slicing through my flesh as I lift my shaky arms, aiming the gun at my father. “It didn’t have to be this way,” I whisper.

“Wendy,” James says, his voice the strongest it’s been all night. “Stop this.”

“Did Mom die in a car accident?” I ask, my finger curling around the trigger.

“Little Shad—”

“Did she?!” I scream, my throat scratching from the force of my yell.

My father’s face drops, all pretenses gone, a blank and hollow look entering his eyes. “No.”

“And Jon?” I continue, though the anguish is splitting me in half.

His chin lifts. “Jon is not my son. He’s a bastard, and the living embodiment of your mother’s disrespect.”

My face screws up, the truth excruciating as it gores its way through the center of my chest. I breathe deep, welcoming the pain, allowing it to fuel me.

I look to James, then back to my father. My hands tremble so violently, I’m surprised I can even hold them up. But I grit my teeth and push through the tremors. “Don’t make me do this.” My voice catches on the torn-up edges of my throat.

My dad chuckles, but his eyes dart nervously between the weapon and my face. “Wendy, don’t be ridiculous. I’m your father.”

I take slow steps forward.

“Wendy.” James’s voice is sharp. His gaze is wide and open, resolute acceptance in his eyes. “It’s alright, darling,” he purrs. “Put the gun down.”

Tears blur my vision, pain ravaging my soul, but I do as he says, lowering the weapon.

My father’s shoulders relax, his brows drawing in. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Little Shadow. But in time, you’ll understand this was for the best.”

He spins around, pushing his revolver against James’s head. James closes his eyes, as if he’s ready and willing to accept his fate.

But I’m not.

“Dad?” I lift the gun and cock it. “I’m sorry, too.”

And then I pull the trigger.

My body hits the ground before his, heaving sobs wracking through me as I collapse in on myself, the anguish of what I just did more than I can bear. My arms wrap around my stomach, nausea making my skin sweat and my body heat, and I heave, vomit rising through my esophagus and pouring from my mouth onto the floor.

My throat burns and my soul is shattered, my eyes so swollen I can barely see.

Soft touches caress my back, and then I’m pulled into a lap, James’s lips coming down to press against my face. “Shh, darling. It’s okay. It will all be okay.”

His hold is shaky and weak, but it’s there.

And right now, it’s exactly what I need.