Wendy
Knives.
They pierced and stabbed at every angle, the blades as unrelenting as they were frigid. Despite the pain, the agony, I remained motionless, dazed from the force with which I’d struck the surface of the water. I was only vaguely aware that my skin remained intact, that there were no literal knives, and that the stabbing sensations were just my body’s response to the intense, sudden cold that I couldn’t escape. The specifics of my current hellish reality hardly mattered. I didn’t care which claimed me—a monster, the sea, jagged teeth, or the simple act of drowning. Anything that stopped my lungs from burning, I’d welcome. Even Death themself.
Or herself. Or himself. Though my eyes remained closed, as my chest screamed for air, I began envisioning what Death might actually look like. I’d felt their icy touch the first time I died but hadn’t lingered in their realm long enough to see their face. Would they be dark and brooding, like my father? Or bright and sunny, like Tink? Would they recognize me? Would they say anything before scooping me up, and would I even hear it? Right now, nothing roared in my ears but the gentle hum of the ocean. The distraction was a welcome one, and slowly but surely, the pain gave way to a tingling warmth as I continued to sink, unable to use my still-bound arms to swim for the surface even if I wanted to. My legs kicked uselessly, more out of instinct than anything I had consciously ordered my body to do, but they stopped after a while, going as limp as the rest of me as even my lungs ceased their plea.
I was alone in nothingness, slipping into unconsciousness when I heard it. My mother’s voice, faint yet unmistakable as ever, singing a low, mournful lullaby.
“The tide is ever rising through the night,
Silver waters bathed in restless light.
Far across the seas,
Together you and I will be.”
As beautiful as the melody was, I refused to acknowledge her. What was the point? If she was dead, I’d meet her soon, and if alive, she was far too late to save me. But despite my inner protests, she continued, her ethereal voice seeming to swell with the roll of the tide.
“The storms will come and go, the rains will fall,
Listen now, and hear my silent call.
Morning sings her song,
And whispers ‘my child, don’t be long.’”
Warmth surged through me… or maybe it was more cold. I could hardly tell the difference anymore. All I knew was that the abyss into which I was drifting seemed more appealing by the second, and that Mother’s voice was urging me toward it. I was so exhausted, so tired of fighting, and so tired of feeling.
Don’t give in, my darling. Not yet. You’re close, so close, and so is he.
I very nearly asked which ‘he’ she meant before stopping myself. Peter made the most sense, but the moment she’d said it, images of Hook flooded my mind… but not the Hook I knew. This was a happy Hook, laughing and dancing, smirking and cracking jokes, possessing two good hands with which to cup Mother’s face before he kissed her. He remained scarred, but less so, and wore clothing which suggested that he didn’t care who saw the marks. A lump formed in my throat at such a blatant impossibility. If this was how she remembered him, the man that Hook had been prior to entering Neverland, what in hells had that forest done to him? What had Peter done to him?
Another sensation shuddered through me, this one unmistakably warmth. Heat. My eyes flashed open as the burning in my lungs subsided despite not having taken a breath—I suddenly didn’t need to—and there, floating in the space before me, was a person.
No. A mermaid.
The glowing palm still lingering on my sternum may have been of more concern had I ever been this close to one of the creatures. I’d glimpsed mermaids in Neverland, but they were as scarce as they were skittish, and had always fled before I could get a good look at them. This one, though, grinned when they noticed me looking, and remained still as I trailed my gaze over their sharp features. What shocked me wasn’t their inhuman characteristics… it was the parts of them that were. In every way, save for the fins protruding where ears should be, gill openings on either side of their neck, and the fish tail serving as their lower half, they were as human as I was. Silvery hair fluttered in an imaginary ocean breeze, and their bright blue eyes remained fixated on mine.
I spoke without thinking. “Who are you?”
The mermaid didn’t offer a response, which made sense given that speech was nothing more than gibberish underwater. Still, I tried again.
“Are you the one making it so I don’t have to breathe? Or is this a dream?”
They smiled, and the fingertips still resting on my chest pulsed with another warm glow. The light almost reminded me of Tink, but it was much stronger and more concentrated, seeping into my skin even through my clothes. My chest felt entirely weightless now, completely void of any lingering discomfort, and any desire to draw breath had abandoned my mind entirely.
“It is you.”
The mermaid didn’t confirm nor deny my words. Moving their hands to either side of my waist, they spun me around until my back was to them. My shoulders seared for a brief moment before the ropes binding my arms fell away, and I could move them again. Relieved, I spun back around to thank them.
But the mermaid was gone.
Panic constricted my chest—or possibly, the need to breathe again—but I pushed aside my mind’s incessant plea to swim for the surface as I scanned the blackened waters for any trace of my companion. I screamed and begged but remained alone. The only response came in the form of Mother’s voice yet again.
I love you, my darling Wendy, and I’ll see you soon. Forgive your father. He’s a better man when he’s with you.
“Fuck my father,” I forced, even as saltwater made its way down my throat. “Did you send the mermaid? Where are you?”
Silence.
Then a jolt rippled through me, a physical one, and it took a moment to realize that something had clamped one of my upper arms, something that definitely wasn’t the mermaid. A monster, at last? Was it the squid, the dragon, or something else entirely? Before I could linger on the thought that no longer seemed terrifying, it dragged me, but not deeper. We were headed for the surface.
In a fraction of the time it had taken for me to sink, we rose. Whatever had snatched me was a powerful swimmer and shot through the water with inhuman speed and ease. We burst from the waves a moment later. Only once cold air struck my face did I recall how much I needed it, but when I opened my mouth to inhale, I choked instead. Arms—strong, human arms—pulled me from the water entirely before cradling me close to a chest. Someone said something my oxygen-deprived brain couldn’t discern, so I instead latched on to the noise flooding my other ear, the one pressed against skin. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. The heartbeat was quicker than normal, but still rhythmic and sure, serving as a guide that I could follow back into the world of the living. A harbor in which I could find refuge.
An anchor ensuring that this time, I’d remain.
“Breathe,” came a hoarse whisper. “Please, Wendy, breathe.”
A violent cough shuddered through me, but once it passed, I attempted another inhale. The breaths came shallow and ragged, but they were breaths, and with each one the ache in my lungs subsided a little more. The fog shrouding my mind took longer to clear, but as it did, voices cut neatly through the haze.
“—thank me. I’m no healer. By rights, she should have drowned.”
“Then clearly, your magic did something.”
“Not the something you seem to think it did.”
An animalistic snarl. “I’m going to fucking kill whoever did this.”
“Only kill? Isn’t that a bit tame for you?”
“Once her lips are no longer blue, then you can go on your murderous rampage. Just because she didn’t drown doesn’t mean that she won’t freeze.”
It was true; the shivers running through me were so violent I feared I might bite off my own tongue if I tried to speak. Though the body wrapped around me radiated heat, it wasn’t nearly enough, not even when the arms tightened to all but cage me within their grasp. My eyes fluttered open, but immobilized as I was, I couldn’t shift my head to get a decent look at who held me.
“Have them lower a rowboat. If they don’t, Elvira, I need you to get aboard by whatever means necessary and make them lower a rowboat.”
Elvira? A shudder that had nothing to do with the cold ran through me. If she was among my rescue party, that meant…
Then I saw it. Arms held me, yes, but one of those arms ended in a curved metal hook.
No.
No.
Reacting on instinct alone, I thrashed with all my might, kicking and bucking like a feral animal. The noises that erupted from my throat were within the same vein, unintelligible and hysterical as I fought to escape Hook’s grasp in any way I could manage. His hold slipped at first, but not enough to release me, and once recovered from his initial shock, he pulled me even tighter against him, pinning my arms to my sides before draping one of his legs over mine to slam it against something slimy. A fish? A mermaid? Any other time I’d have cared, but right now I needed to be anywhere other than trapped within his embrace.
Hook’s beard grazed my cheek as he snaked his neck over my shoulder, careful to position himself where I couldn’t slam my skull into his. “Shit, Wendy. Was almost dying a goddamn act?”
I still couldn’t form coherent sentences, but whatever I screamed in response had the words ‘fuck’ and ‘you’ in there somewhere.
The next few minutes passed in a blur. Though I continued fighting Hook wherever and however I could, the burst of what I assumed was adrenaline wore off quickly, leaving me so exhausted I could barely hold my head up. I caught a fleeting glimpse of the fish-horse serving as our mount, or perhaps hallucinated it, before Hook transferred me to the rowboat he’d asked Elvira to procure, and then we were rising yet again. I squirmed and twisted, loathing the way I remained immobile in his lap, but the death grip he had on my wrists informed me there was no way out.
He exhaled against my cheek. “I’m beginning to wonder if you wanted to drown.”
“I’m not a fucking damsel.” I’d wanted to conjure something wittier, but that was what came out.
Hook froze. “What did you say?”
“Fuck you.”
“I know, but after that.”
“I’m not a damsel, and I don’t need saving.” I didn’t voice the last bit: especially not by you.
Hook fell silent, and finally convinced that fighting him would do nothing but exhaust me further, I took the opportunity to scan my surroundings. Elvira sat to our left, her expression unreadable as she regarded us through narrowed lids. She was armed with at least a dozen knives strapped in various places along her lithe and muscular body, soaking wet, and twitching. Given the way both of her hands were hovering over daggers, I suspected the tremors were more anticipation for what was to come than they were a response to the biting cold. Gods, did she even get cold? The more time I spent around her, the less I was convinced she was entirely human.
To our right sat a third, a stranger I didn’t immediately recognize. She was dressed in nothing more than a thin, nearly see-through dress with a plunging neckline and slits beginning at each hip, revealing long, slender legs. How in hells she hadn’t frozen, I couldn’t begin to guess. The longer I stared, the more familiar she became. It wasn’t the rounded face, tightly wound curls, or high cheekbones that sparked intense emotion that I couldn’t quite place… it was her dark, almost soulless eyes. I knew those eyes, and judging from the smirk that crept across her features, it would appear she knew mine. For some foreign reason, my thoughts kept drifting back to my days at the orphanage. Had I met her there? Had she visited me once? Had she been employed there—lived near there? There were endless possibilities, none of which I was able to settle upon even as she continued to hold my gaze.
Our staring match came to an abrupt end the moment the rowboat halted. I blinked; had we been hauled all the way back up the ship already? Evidently so, for Hook didn’t hesitate to stand, lifting me as effortlessly as he lifted himself before stepping out of the rowboat and onto The Jolly Serpent’s deck with me still cradled in his arms. Fury ignited once more. What would the crew think if they saw me like this, being carried like a child?
“Put me down!” Though my body ached all over and my strength was dwindling rapidly, I resumed my writhing, fully prepared to kick Hook in the face if that’s what it would take to preserve any shred of dignity I had left. “I can fucking walk.”
He glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. “If you insist.”
With sudden gentleness that shocked me, he placed my feet on the deck, especially careful to keep his hook from snagging on my dress as he helped me stand. I’d have batted him away if it wasn’t help I needed. My battered knees remained shaky and weak, and I’d have crumpled if I didn’t have the railing to lean on. Our eyes met, and the blackness swirling within his left me completely unprepared when his good hand shot out to grip my chin with rough, calloused fingers.
Hook’s already troubled expression turned downright feral as he studied me. I flinched when he raised his hook to my brow, but as gently as he put me down, he ran the sharpened tip over the wound on my head. I shied away a second time, unable to hide my grimace as the tender skin protested under his featherlight touch. When he spoke, his voice was low and animalistic; it almost sounded like one of the Nightstalkers back in Neverland. “Who did this to you?”
“Does it matter?” My voice didn’t sound like me, either. It was too small, too defeated… too reminiscent of the terrified little girl I thought I’d killed back in Neverland.
“Answer me, Wendy.”
Suddenly irritated he was so close, I shoved against Hook’s chest to put some distance between us. It wasn’t enough—I moved more than he had, and my back was now pressed to the rail I still gripped—but it would have to do. “I just got thrown overboard. Pardon me if I’m not all that concerned over a flesh wound.”
“Wounds,” he corrected through gritted teeth. “You look like you were put through hell.”
At the mention of hell, flashes of what had happened prior to my fall sprinted to the forefront of my mind, and so did a name: Peter. My blood turned to ice. To suggest what I’d endured had been hell when there was his ordeal to consider felt like a betrayal of the highest order. Had the crew kept their promise and cut him down, or was he still hanging from the mast, all the while subjected to psychological and physical torture? I said his name once, and when no response came, I sidestepped Hook. “Where is Peter?”
Hook whirled around at that, but not to answer my question. He posed his own. “Can anyone explain to me why I just plucked my daughter from the freezing sea?”
He hadn’t threatened. He hadn’t shouted. He didn’t even sound angry, but the look on every single crewman’s face suggested otherwise. Pale as ghosts, a few of them visibly trembled, and they had gone so still that the only sound was the roar of the waves.
When no one spoke, Elvira took a casual step forward. Similarly to her brother, nothing about her movements were predatory, and she wasn’t even brandishing a weapon, but it didn’t keep the men closest to her from scrambling back, tripping and stumbling over ropes and supplies in an effort to get away from her. “Cedric Teach asked you a question.”
I gritted my teeth; I didn’t have time for their theatrics and posturing. My gaze darted past the crowd, fixating on the mast—blessedly lacking a strung-up Peter. All that remained were a few scraps of rope. Shoulders slumping, I released a relieved exhale, but it didn’t keep my heart from hammering against my ribcage. Where was he? Where was Tink? Had they been thrown overboard? Had the mermaid helped them, too? Or had the monsters found them first?
Questions, as well as horrific imagery, continued racing through my mind, but I managed to voice the only one that mattered as I addressed the still-silent crew. “Where is Peter? What have you done with him?”
More silence.
Balling my hands into fists, I half shrieked and half sobbed into the rapidly gathering night. “Pet—”
Something slammed into my side, nearly sending me tumbling over the ship’s railing and back into the frigid ocean. Arms snaked around my waist so tightly I could barely breathe. A head nuzzled into the crook of my neck, coating my throat in fresh wetness, and the body it was all attached to released a shuddering sigh as to my right, something clattered to the deck. “Wendy…”
Peter. He was half-naked, bruised, and battered, but he was whole. After looping my arms beneath his armpits to rest on either shoulder, I pulled him tightly against me, careful not to touch any part of his still-exposed back. I allowed myself a moment’s relief before shooting Hook a death glare. “He needs cover. A blanket, cloak, someth—”
He moved before I finished speaking, fixated on the nearest man wearing a jacket. Hook didn’t need to say a word before the man had already shrugged out of it, and in another wordless exchange, Hook draped it over Peter’s bare shoulders. I didn’t miss the way Hook’s eyes widened upon glimpsing Peter’s back, but he didn’t question either of us as we sank to our knees.
“Are you all right?” I whispered for Peter’s ears alone, my voice hoarse. “Is Tink?”
He untangled himself from my waist as faint bell noises sounded from the space between our chests. A dim golden glow flashed within the somehow intact pocket of Peter’s otherwise ruined shirt, but Tink didn’t fly out or speak. My heart skipped a beat. “Is she…?”
“She’s weak and hurting, but alive,” Peter said quietly. “As am I.”
I could only nod in acknowledgement rather than relief. There wasn’t anything ‘good’ about this, but at least we were back together. And all the gods be damned, this time, I was determined for us to remain that way.
When I opened my mouth to tell Peter as much, a presence hovered over his shoulder. The strange yet oddly familiar woman from the boat knelt at his back, hand outstretched. I tensed, preparing to pull Peter out of her reach, but he reacted faster. With strength that I wouldn’t have expected him to possess in his current state, he twisted both to shove me behind him and snatch the object he’d discarded earlier—a bloodied dagger.
“Touch either of us and you’ll lose the hand.” Peter waved the blade in a wild, reckless arc, forcing the woman to stagger back. Hook caught her before she lost her balance.
He glared and shook his head. “Put that down, Pan. She can heal you.”
“I can try,” the woman clarified. “I’m no healer, but I’ve got some magic and will do what I can to ease that pain of yours. I already did it for Wendy.”
Peter made no move to lower his weapon. “Do you know her?” he whispered under his breath for my ears alone; though he couldn’t see me, I shook my head.
“No. At least… I don’t think I do. I’ve never seen her face before, but there’s something oddly familiar about her nonetheless.”
“Then you probably have met her before. She’s a nymph—a shapeshifter,” Peter said.
My lips parted in shock, but before I could voice it, the woman—no, the nymph—extended her hand once more. “I mean you no harm, Peter Pan. Are you certain you don’t want my help?”
He nodded, tensing up yet again. “I’ll manage on my own.”
The nymph smiled as she withdrew her arm. “Suit yourself.” She retreated to resume her previous position near Hook, but her gaze shifted to me as she moved, as invasive and unnerving as her stare had been on the boat. Searching. Waiting… for what, I didn’t know, but once this was all over, I intended to find out, as well as how the hell I knew her.
Hook resumed his interrogation. “If none of you will come forward freely,” he said in that same bored tone, “then I shall be forced to assume that those of you sporting injuries sustained them as perpetrators of the violence these children suffered, rather than in defense of them.”
“You think that any of us would defend that?”
My grip on Peter tightened at the sound of Pierce’s voice. He stepped apart from the crowd, stopping out of arm’s reach from Hook, but only just. I stifled a snarl. Coward. Raising his chin, Pierce shot an accusatory finger at Peter’s back, every bit the image of a smug schoolboy telling on his classmate.
“That… that thing—”
“He is a child whom I left under your care and protection and was to be treated no differently than you’d treat my daughter.” Hook raised an eyebrow. “Were my orders unclear?”
No differently than you’d treat my daughter might have floored me had there been a moment to linger on the thought, but Pierce fired right back. “That’s precisely it. ‘He’ is a ‘she.’”
Peter tensed in front of me, and for the first time since reuniting, Hook’s demeanor visibly shifted. He stalked toward an unflinching Pierce, making a point to look down upon the shorter man even as Hook leaned on a nearby supply crate. Metal rattled as he laid his palm flat on the wooden surface—chains, perhaps. “It seems you may have taken my orders a bit too literally, Mr. Pierce. Peter was to be treated as my daughter’s equal, not as a literal daughter. That would be foolish now, wouldn’t it? He is a boy, after all.”
Pierce’s jaw clenched. “No, not foolish. We all saw it, what’s underneath—”
“You mean that in addition to beating and flogging him, you also assaulted him? A child, as it seems I must remind you.” Hook clicked his tongue and narrowed his dark gaze even further. “Your crimes are certainly adding up, aren’t they?”
“They’re hardly crimes when perpetrated against a goddamn impostor! The so-called child you left us with isn’t what we got, and we have every right not to feel deceived.”
Hook’s glare remained as cold as ice. “There was no deception, Mr. Pierce. I know precisely who and what Peter Pan is. I knew it when I gave the order, and I’ve hardly forgotten it now.”
Pierce hesitated, face scrunching up as he pieced together the subtext. “You… You knew?”
“Yes. And?” Hook said, icy and detached as ever. Metal rattled a second time as my thoughts raced. How and when did Hook discover Peter’s secret, and why had he actually kept it, let alone respected it? A month ago, they were sworn enemies hellbent on killing each other. Wouldn’t it have better served him to do the opposite?
“Gods. You’re just as sick as your daughter,” Pierce spat. “How can either of you wrap your head around what he—she—hells, whatever the fuck it is?”
Hook cocked his head. “I’d be happy to show you.”
A mirthless laugh. “What more is there to show that I haven’t already seen? It’s an abomination, unna—”
Pierce choked on whatever else he had been about to say when Hook lifted a heavy chain, the same one he’d been fidgeting with, and slammed it into the side of Pierce’s skull. An agonized shriek tore from his throat as he staggered back, but he didn’t get far. Hook delivered a savage kick to the man’s ribcage, forcing Pierce to his knees. Only then did it become obvious that his skull had been split open. He remained conscious, but barely, twitching and breathing erratically as blood poured from the wounded side of his head.
Rather than put him out of his misery, Hook raised his gaze, his dark eyes flickering to mine before settling on Peter’s. It took me a moment to realize what he was waiting for, but the unspoken question hit me right before Peter nodded: Do you want to to finish him, or shall I?
It was the affirmation Hook needed. With a sharp inhale, he brought the chain down a second time, connecting with Pierce’s scratched-up face. He crumpled, landing flat on his back, but despite the fact his victim was no longer twitching, Hook didn’t stop. Again and again he lifted the thick, weighted chain, sometimes even above his own head, landing blow after blow to the now-dead man’s bloodied body. The dull squelching and slapping of flesh beneath metal became rhythmic and monotonous, not unlike the heartbeat I’d latched onto after being thrown overboard. The metal chain links clanging together were harsher and more irregular in comparison, as was the occasional snap and crunch of bone, but all of them were necessary when it came to composing the triumphant symphony that was Pierce’s death.
I was no stranger to violence and had even found myself fascinated by it at times; Elvira’s disembowelment of the crewman who disrespected her authority immediately sprang to mind. But something about witnessing my own father brutalize a man, even a man who deserved it, to the point where the body was no longer recognizable as a human being triggered something in me—something petrifying. The air in my lungs turned frigid, as did each breath I tried to draw after that. Horror unlike anything I’d ever felt crept into my bones, into my soul, slithering around the very essence of what made me human and chilling it to its core. I looked away from the worst of the savagery, ducking behind Peter’s back, but there was no escaping the gruesome sounds that flooded the air, causing me to flinch with every blow Hook landed.
It went on for so long that I nearly vomited, but eventually, blessedly, Hook stopped. “I do believe,” he said between haggard breaths, “that our friend Mr. Pierce has managed to ‘wrap his head around’ the concept.”
The chain clattered to the deck, and a different type of silence fell as Hook began pacing across the blood-splattered wood. I lifted my head just enough to glimpse him. Carnage coated him from head to toe, ruining his shirt and jacket, but the monstrous look didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. At least now he matched the villain I saw in my head. As if he could tell what I was thinking, Hook met my gaze once more. His hardened expression softened, but before I could question why, one of the crewmen stepped forward.
Smee clutched his red hat in both palms, turning it over nervously as he spoke. “Forgive me, Capt—er, that’s precisely it. Have you returned to resume your place as our captain?”
The contents of my mouth turned to ash.
Captain?
My mind continued to race, but my body no longer felt as though I was its host. Had Hook truly come all this way, plucked me from the ocean, and made such a show of murdering Pierce simply to take back everything he’d entrusted to me barely a month ago? To seize the ship he’d given me a taste of commanding? Had this entire voyage all been an elaborate test, a trial to see whether or not I was fit to rule in his stead? Had he wanted me to fail—expected it, even?
No. He wouldn’t dare. Hook was many things, but surely not even he would stoop to these sorts of lows, especially not where his daughter was concerned.
Or would he? He hadn’t even been aware of my existence until I’d set foot in Neverland, and we’d spent most of my time there as enemies. I’d broken the curse, yes, but my actions were also the direct cause behind why he’d chosen to leave Neverland immediately after; had I shamed him? Thrown a wrench in his plans? Made him look incompetent, or even weak?
Was this revenge?
I remained feeling as though I was simply a spectator to the goings-on rather than experiencing them within my own body as Hook’s good hand clenched at his side. After closing his eyes for a brief moment, he turned to face Smee—though judging by the unmistakable authority with which he spoke, he addressed the crew as a whole.
“Yes. Captain Hook has returned.”
The crew’s roar of approval was drowned out by my own blood roaring in my ears. They began chanting Hook’s name, banging their weapons against the deck, and a few even raised their pistols into the air and fired them. It was several minutes before they settled down enough for Hook to continue, but even then, I still hadn’t managed to rein in my spiraling thoughts, nor my trembling hands. There was an irritating wetness behind my eyes begging to be released as well, but I shoved it down; the last thing I needed was to fucking cry.
“You may have noticed my guest. This is Calypso,” Hook said, gesturing to the nymph, “and she’s to be treated with the utmost respect. Any man who lays a finger on her will lose it.
“As for tonight—dispose of Pierce’s remains and bring any urgent matters to Elvira’s attention, but otherwise, I’m not to be disturbed until morning.”
“What about our course?” asked a voice near the back of the crowd: Mr. Gibbs, the helmsman. “Where are we headed, cap’n?”
Hook didn’t miss a beat. “Stay the course you have.” Confused murmuring broke out, but he was swift to silence it. “Our course is far from what I would consider an urgent matter. I will explain further come morning, but right now, I need my rest.”
That was that. With Elvira and Calypso hot on his heels, Hook headed for belowdecks without so much as another glance in my or Peter’s direction. The crew parted to allow him to pass, and several even began to wander leisurely back to their posts. It hit me then that Hook truly intended to leave me like this—without explanation, assurance, or apology—so I untangled myself from Peter and scrambled to my aching feet. Whether Hook remembered it or not, this was my ship, and I refused to give it up without a fight.
My mind and body rejoined one another the moment the words left my lips.
“You’re not going anywhere.”