Far From Neverland

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. far from neverland Copyright © 2022 Rylee Hale All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Written by Rylee Hale Cover image by Fer Gregory/Shutterstock.com ISBN 979-8-9867508-0-4 (paperback)ISBN 979-8-9867508-1-1 (ebook) published by vicious city press Table of Contents Title Copyright Author's Note Dedication Epigraph Chapter 1 - Hook Chapter 2 - Pan Chapter 3 - Hook Chapter 4 - Pan Chapter 5 - Hook Chapter 6 - Pan Chapter 7 - Hook Chapter 8 - Pan Chapter 9 - Hook Chapter 10 - Pan Chapter 11 - Hook Chapter 12 - Pan Chapter 13 - Hook Chapter 14 - Pan Chapter 15 - Hook Chapter 16 - Pan Chapter 17 - Hook Chapter 18 - Pan Chapter 19 - Hook Chapter 20 - Pan Chapter 21 - Hook Chapter 22 - Pan Chapter 23 - Hook Chapter 24 - Pan Chapter 25 - Hook Chapter 26 - Pan Chapter 27 - Hook Chapter 28 - Pan Chapter 29 - Hook Chapter 30 - Pan Epilogue - Hook Epilogue - Pan Acknowledgments About the Author note from the author Far from neverland is a dark romance, a darker kind of fairy tale for the adults who dream of returning to Neverland, the ones who always secretly wished to see the heroes and the villains turn from enemies to lovers. Everyone’s definition of dark varies, especially when it comes to romance. This book may be too dark for some and not dark enough for others. Please stay safe and check the trigger warnings if needed. For specific content warnings, playlists, and to sign up for my newsletter, please visit my website: www.ryleehale.com To those who always dreamed of Neverland, of flying, and of falling in love with the villain. Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. —sarah williams Neverland hasn’t been the same since Peter Pan left. It’s been so much better. Fourteen years of peace, and I’ve been basking in it. Sure, not everything is perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot more preferable than the alternative. The obnoxious presence of that vile and despicable child ensured I had headaches every single moment of every goddamn day. He flew around here like he owned the whole bloody island, but all he was was an infuriating pest that I couldn’t squash, a rash with an itch that I couldn’t scratch. Despite the state of the map on the desk in front of me, it was worth it. Standing from my wingback chair, I turn my back on the blasted map. I absentmindedly run my hook over the many silver and gold rings adorning the fingers of my right hand as I peer out of one of the large windows that look out of the stern of the Jolly Roger. It’s the middle of the day, but it sure doesn’t look that way. The sky is a dark gray, heavy with thick clouds. Honestly, it’s just the way I like it. Everything is dark now. I don’t miss the sun—Neverland’s star. It left when Pan left, like it simply died out. Good riddance. I like the dark. The island is lit now only by whichever star is nearest, which is clearly too far away to keep the island warm, sunny, and dry. Snow drifts down over the dark water, landing on the thin blanket of ice over the sea. Thanks to the small fire in my captain’s quarters, it’s warm in here. But it turns out I don’t mind the cold so much either. Running my one hand through my hair, I return to my seat at the desk. I lean back and put my boots up, resting them beside the map that I really don’t want to look at right now. Several gold doubloons litter the desk, and I pick one up to roll it across my knuckles. The map is surrounded by a bunch of the coins along with a compass, a pistol, a couple of my best daggers, and a few other trinkets. The glow from the small fire keeps most of the cabin in shadow, including the bed tucked in the corner, the miniature bar, the numerous shelves of treasures I’ve collected in my many, many years. When I start to get a bit too warm, I drop the coin, pluck a leather string off my desk, and tie my hair back at the nape of my neck. When everything changed fourteen years ago, I embraced that change and sliced off a good chunk of my dark, wavy hair. It barely brushes my shoulders now, and since time doesn’t really move in Neverland, it’s never grown back. But I’m okay with it. Picking up my tricorn hat next, I place it on my head, tipping it down a little past my eyes as I settle back in my chair. The only thing I have to do right now is wait on news, so I may as well sleep in the meantime. I barely manage to drift off before a knock comes at the door. I groan. “Enter,” I say as I drop my boots to the ground. The door opens, and Mr. Smee, my boatswain, enters the cabin. He appears nervous. Though, that in and of itself is nothing new. His red stocking cap is in his hands, and he’s twirling it over and over. I’m surprised the threads haven’t unraveled by