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So cocky.

I cut my gaze right to his face, my eyes slightly swollen from the silent tears coming out of me all night. And he stares at me like he has no emotions at all. “This is over, Micah. Whatever this weird physical connection is between us, it stops now.”

A mirror of his old self shines in his eyes. “Suit yourself, sweetheart,” he scoffs and takes a step back.

I fold my arms and jerk my head to the medical kit over his arm. “I’m serious. I will stand by you right now to help Thomas, but as soon as this is over, I am going back to him.”

His mouth twitches and his eyes flicker. “Yeah, you fucking think so? I guess we will see if he even takes you back. You’re tainted goods to him now that you chose me over him. You’re mine, baby. Whether you want me is irrelevant now.”

His words slice through my skin like a razor-sharp knife. I take a few deep breaths to calm my trembling nerves and nauseousness swells through me. I never should have let it get this far with him.

I lean up to him, giving him a taste of his own medicine. His body twitches as I press into him. “You want me to act like Olivia?” I breathe, sliding my hand over his stomach. “Does that turn you on, Micah?”

The vein in his neck pulses.

He’s sick—he really is sick.

“I did a good job already, asshole,” I growl. “If the bruises and scrapes you gave me last night are any indication.”

His eyes flicker—life finally comes out of them. He swallows a bob in his throat as I slide my hand down to his pant line. A smile plays at his lips.

“You hurt her, didn’t you, Micah? The bruises on Olivia’s body were from you, not Maison.”

His silence and corresponding frown are the only admission I need. After a moment, he says, “I guess you really did you your homework before you came on this trip.” He throws his arms up, waving that damn bone weapon so close to my face. “You wanted me, London? Well, here I am. This is me; I’ve never pretended to be anyone else, and don’t fucking pretend you didn’t love every single second of it. Your pussy was salivating over me last night.”

I ball my fist. “Nothing of what you showed me last night was you, Micah,” I scream. “I don’t know who the fuck that was, but that version of you is an asshole. I hate that person.”

I turn and stomp away from him—I can’t even look at him. I hate him, and I hate how my body reacts to him, like I have no control over it.

I hear him scoff behind me. “Yeah, well, I’m the asshole who’s keeping you alive, London.”

Relief hits me as the camp finally comes into view, the little trickle of the stream hitting my ears. Immediately, I see Jade sitting alone by the fire, her head between her legs. My pulse quickens.

Something is wrong.

Her head whips up when she hears us approach, her eyes red and puffy.

“What happened?” Micah asks, running to her.

I immediately follow him.

Jade rises, darting her eyes between the two of us, likely sensing the massive tension between us. “He’s not well. He got worse after you left yesterday. He’s just convulsing and moaning, then he just went limp. I… I can’t get him to wake up.”

Micah and I run to his shelter and see Thomas lying lifeless on the ground, heat radiating from his body. Micah kneels down and grabs his wrist, pulling off the wrap and hands it to me. It’s full of blood, sweat, and… something else.

I cringe and gag at what’s beneath. His whole palm is red and swollen. It looks like the infection spread into his fingers, like a spiderweb into his wrist. But the worst part is the black and purple skin right where the cut on his palm is. The pus is seeping out of it. The smell of rotting flesh… it’s putrid.

It takes everything not to pass out from the smell alone. Micah’s jaw flexes as his eyes find mine. “He has sepsis.”

My chest tightens. “Can you fix it?”

His face pales. “I don’t know… I need to clean it and get a better look at what we are dealing with. Can you grab me some water?”

I nod and immediately grab a water bottle and head for the stream. When I get back, Jade is behind him, standing just outside by her small fire, her arms wrapped around herself. She’s shaking, with tears flowing out of her eyes.

“Can you help him?” she asks between sobs.

Micah turns to face her, his eyes soft, and he steps outside the shelter, grabbing her arms. “Listen to me, Jade. The skin tissue on the cut is dead. We have to remove it, or the infection is just going to spread.”