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I suck in a breath. “Maison, that’s not what this is about.”

He reaches his fingers to my face, wiping the single tear that escaped down my cheek before it can freeze on my skin. He leans down and presses his lips against mine.

I gasp as his tongue tickles my lips, and heat warms my heart. His fingers softly caressing my lower back. I open my lips and let him in, getting lost in his savoury taste, his soft skin, and the memory of when it was just me and him. The nights I spent cuddling with him, kissing him, making love to him—Maison.

Before everything got screwed up and I fell in love with his brother. A wave of guilt envelops me.

Micah—he’s still out there somewhere, and he needs us.

Maison senses my tension and pulls back from the kiss, his eyes softening. “I know you’re confused, baby,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my forehead. “But I still love you. I need you to know that.”

My heart melts and I let out a sob, letting out all my emotions I’ve been bottling up over the past two days I spent with Micah. They spill out of me—every single one.

Love and hate, fear and danger, even a false sense of hope.

Two days. That’s how long I’ve spent away from Maison. The time it took to realize which brother I’m in love with. And as much as it pains me, and as much as I love Maison, adore him, actually… Micah truly has my heart.

I have to find Micah.

My body suddenly goes limp, my knees buckle, and my hip throbs. Maison lifts me into his arms, and I flinch as the skin at my hip splits open. “Come on, baby,” he says, carefully stepping through the thick snow, “let’s grab Micah and get you somewhere safe.”

I allow Maison to carry me, and in this moment as I lean into his safety, I’m completely sure that although I am deeply in love with Micah, Maison is my closest friend, and no one can ever replace him in my heart.

Maison walks up to the camp, his footfalls barely a whisper on the snow. Micah apparently taught him the art of silence as well, the skill of the quiet hunter as we approach Nigel, Ezra, and Ollie as they surround Micah.

My whimpers are the only noises heard as we make our way through the forest. Even though he carries me as softly as he can, the split in my side is a raw, open wound.

“Okay, baby, time to be quiet now.” I have to hold my breath to accomplish that.

A fire roars in front of us—the biggest I’ve seen since being here—and it lights up the whole site.

They don’t notice him because they are sloppy and pathetic. They look wild, resembling zombies in the wilderness. Naomi and Serena sit a few feet away, stress etched on their faces. Naomi’s hands grip her sides as she hunches over with a bloody face. Serena sits beside her with her head in her hands as well. Naomi’s not well, I realize.

Ezra’s really desperate for that first aid kit, because I sliced up his girlfriend. Serena barely looks like she’s faring any better.

Should have stayed with James, sweetheart.

I can’t help but internally croon at her, although I feel bad for her. She really hasn’t done anything to me personally, even if her friends are assholes.

My mouth goes dry as I take in the sight of Micah, hunched over and rigid, with his gray hood over his head and his arms tied behind his back. They don’t notice us, but he does. His eyes flick, unyielding as he takes in the sight of me in Maison’s arms in the shadow of the trees. He makes no motion, movement, or any sign the two of us are nearby. The other three’s senses are not nearly as keen as Micah’s, and they don’t even notice he’s staring right at me.

It makes me almost laugh to think mere hunting wire would stop Micah from getting free. He’s biding his time for something. Ezra holds his knife in his hand and the sight of that makes my blood freeze.

Maison places me down beneath a tree well, a small deep spot with no snow. “Stay here, baby. Please,” he whispers. “I need to handle this.”

My primal instinct is to attack them—to protect the guys I love—but I hold back as the scene unfolds. I curl up, holding my shattered hand, keeping myself hidden, but watching. My eyes are fixed on Micah, whose head is slumped forward and motionless.

Maison makes his presence known, purposely snapping a twig with his foot. He looks otherworldly as smoke circles around him, glimmering off the snow. All six of them stare at him as the fire pops, spooking the girls.

Nigel straightens his bow tie and does not look surprised to see him. “Where is she?” he asks casually.

“Safe.”

I bite my lip, nerves shaking, and my stomach clenches at the weapons in everyone’s hands. Everyone, except for Maison. But his muscles ripple beneath his tight, fitted sweats and gray hoodie—identical to what Micah’s wearing. If I hadn’t known in my truest heart it was Maison’s arms I was just in, by his rigidity alone, I’d think it was Micah. He stands tall and proud and incredibly handsome.

Nigel waves a dismissive hand. “Are you going to come out, London, so we can end this? The food you want is not here, so you can call off your dog.”

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, and Maison presses his lips together in a silent hint he doesn’t wish for me to come out. Of course, they weren’t going to make this easy on us.