Lost Boys were never silent for too long. It was their whispers and the whimpering of the servant girl that finally caused Peter to cease his assault of kissing and seemed to bring him to the realization that we had an audience.

"Can you believe it, Boys?" Peter shouted, his voice filling the hall, his eyes never leaving mine. "My little lost girl finally made her way back to me." He licked his kiss-chapped lips and smiled at me, his hands entwining with mine before he brought them to his lips for a kiss. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, and there was a sparkle there that I had only seen a handful of times.

This was a genuine smile. A smile reserved only for the rarest of occasions. And he was smiling at me.

In rare moments such as those, there was a fleeting glimpse of the boy he may have been before he met the Crocodile, and my heart would ache for him. It was easy to think that, in some other lifetime, by some chance, that we could be together if he was this version of himself.

Returning his smile felt so natural in that moment, and I could feel myself melting under his gaze. I was slipping, forgetting…

"Well, she certainly didn't make it back on her own."

In the span of those ten words, he changed. His grip was just a little too tight, and the sparkle in his eyes blew out. The smile that had warmed his entire face fell away and settled back into stone, and I was once again reminded of the monster I was dealing with. The Peter from before was fleeting, temporary. The boy in front of me was constant. No matter what, he would always return to this version of himself.

Would I ever learn?

"Would someone get her out of here?" Peter snapped as the servant girl continued to sob. "I can't take it anymore." While two lost boys dragged the servant girl away, Peter turned to face Mathias, one hand still entwined with mine. He straightened to his full height, his shoulders back and his head tilted slightly as he stared him down.

"And who are you?" Peter clipped as the door shut behind the sobbing servant girl and silence descended in the hall again.

Mathias reached up and removed his tricorne hat before swinging into a low bow. "Mathias Woodbrooke. At your service."

Peter's grip tightened, and I couldn't help but flinch, but I didn't dare try to pull away. "You should know I'm not a fan of pirates," he said coldly.

Mathias scoffed. "I'm not a pirate!"

"Did you not smuggle something that didn't belong to you?" Peter quipped.

Mathias' hands twitched at his sides and he shifted his weight. "Who said we smuggled her?" He asked, but he was already sounding less confident in himself.

Peter's gaze turned to me, and I had trouble meeting his eyes. He arched a brow at me, expecting an answer.

"It wasn't like that," I assured Peter quietly, not trusting my voice not to shake if I spoke any louder. "He helped me get away. Brought me here."

Peter nodded, then turned his eyes back to Mathias. "Then I suppose I should be thanking you." His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me close. "Holly, here, is my favorite treasure."

Mathias' shoulder relaxed, and he smiled, but he wasn't prepared for when Peter quickly dismissed him, ordering Benj to show him out. Mathias' brow furrowed in confusion, and he shrugged Benj off when Benj put a hand on his shoulder.

"I was told there was a reward," Mathias challenged, squaring his shoulders.

I expected Peter to snap, to drag Mathias out of the throne room himself, but instead, one corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile.

The skin under Mathias' collar was beginning to darken, the color creeping up his neck as he clenched his jaw. "Those were your own words," he seethed. "A fortune for whoever returned her to you."

Peter hummed to himself, scratching just behind his ear. "I suppose I did say that, and I'm a boy of my word." He let go of my hand then and adjusted my father's crown on his head before stating, "Let's play a little game."

My stomach flipped at the mention of a game, and I found it difficult to swallow the fear that was forming a hard knot in my throat. Mathias' brows furrowed, his confusion written plainly across his face as he shrugged and agreed. He wasn't sure how Peter's game tied into his reward, but he was too greedy to refuse.

When he agreed, my eyes moved to Benj. I couldn't help but think he looked a little deflated as he brought both hands to rest on the belt of knives at his waist.

I startled when Peter pulled me in front of him so that I was facing Mathias. Peter's hands came to rest on my shoulders, his thumbs softly massaging the back of my shoulders. Ever part of me felt stiff. I couldn't relax as I stared out into the many faces that filled the hall. I didn't wasn't to be part of this game.

"Here's how it works," Peter said as he continued to massage my shoulders. "You tell me how much you think she's worth. If your guess is higher, I'll give you your reward. If your guess is too low, you get nothing at all."

Mathias crossed his arms. "Seems easy enough."

He didn't sound entirely convinced.

I could picture the evil smile on Peter's face as he chuckled, the sound low in his chest. He wished Mathias luck before he finally stopped massaging my shoulders, brought them to rest instead, and rested his chin on one of my shoulders.

As Mathias gave his answer, an outrageously high number that he believed would get him his reward, I kept my eyes on Benj. I couldn't bring myself to look at Mathias, afraid I would blurt that no number would be high enough, that it was all part of Peter's sick game. He wouldn't be walking out of here with a reward because Peter would never be satisfied with any answer.

Peter lifted his head, squeezed my shoulders, took a deep breath. "Close."

Mathias went right, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. He bared his teeth, a frustrated sound escaping his throat as he took a step forward. "You sad sack of—"

I hardly had time to shut my eyes before Benj's blade found its mark in Mathias' back. Mathias gasped, and I didn't hear him take another step. I dug my fingernails into my palms, trying to focus on anything else but his labored breathing.

There was a sickening sound as Benj gave the blade a twist, then a heavy thud as Mathias crumpled to the ground.

I forced myself to open my eyes, my breath shaky as I stared down at a crumpled Mathias, the blossom of red growing through his shirt. He was still.

Benj wiped the blade on his trousers, seemingly unconcerned with the stain left behind. That was, until his eyes met mine for a moment, and then he wiped self-consciously at the stain.

Peter ordered a few more boys to remove Mathias from the hall. A group of smaller boys came forward, all of them struggling to drag his lifeless body across the cold marble. Peter and the other boys let them struggle, snickering and shouting encouragement.

And I just stood there, feeling woozy, as Mathias continued to bleed on the floor, a streak forming behind him as the boys continued to struggle.

Several minutes passed, and the boys finally made it to the large doors. Sweat dotted their foreheads, and their shoulders rose and fell with each labored breath. It was only when the boys had pushed the doors open that Peter commanded a few of the older boys to step in. Once the older boys were around the corner and Mathias' feet disappeared, Peter said Benj's name.

"String him up in the square," Peter said. "I want to make an example out of him."

Benj nodded silently before making his exit, leaving me alone in the hall with Peter and the remaining Lost Boys.

I was overcome with a sense of dizziness at the thought of Mathias' lifeless body hanging in the square for everyone to see, his clothes bloodstained, and his eyes glassy and cold.

"Peter," I said weakly, barely able to get the words out. I tried to turn towards him, but my feet felt heavy and I stumbled. Thankfully, He caught me, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist.

"What is it, Sweetheart?" He asked, sounding worried.

"I don't feel well."

I tried to focus on the soft threat of his shirt. If I vomited, he would, without a doubt, be livid.

Peter chuckled. "Still can't stand the sight of blood, I see." He didn't wait for me to respond, which I was grateful for. Instead, he called for a servant to escort me to my room so that I could rest. Then, he gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me he would see me later. "We have a lot to catch up on and discuss," he said as I pulled away. "Get some rest."

I nodded, knowing all too well that the last thing I would be able to do was rest.