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She nods carefully, as if seeing the darkness now residing in my soul as I do my best to suppress it. All I can think about is killing Nigel, stabbing him with that knife and ending his pathetic, feeble life. The regret I feel for not letting Micah end Ezra’s life.

If I had killed Nigel when I had the chance, Maison would still be alive.

“Yes, he went alone today. He says he hunts better that way. He’s trying to prepare for winter. Now that it’s freezing temperatures, we can stockpile and save food. He’ll be back, though.”

He’s avoiding me.

She pauses at the entrance and looks in on me. “He’ll want to know you’re awake. He told me to find him if you woke up. I’ll send Nathan or Ollie out to let him know.”

I swallow a razer-sharp pit in my throat. “How is he doing?”

She moves in to grab my healthy hand and squeezes. She seems strong, her hair bouncier, and her dimples accentuated on her slender, pretty face. Probably because Thomas looks like he will make a full recovery from his ordeal. “I don’t know,” she admits. “He doesn’t say much to anyone. He’s either over here, watching over you, or in the woods. He’s worried about you, London.”

I shake my head and look around; his absence is noticeable. “Clearly, he’s super worried about me,” I say dryly.

She sits beside me and her eyes soften. “London, in my whole life, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone love someone the way he loves you. The way he looks at you. You have no idea, but I do. I’ve seen it from the beginning. He carried you the whole way back, refusing help from anyone. And since we’ve been here, the only person he lets near you is me. He barely left your side for the two days while you were out, but he had to go hunt. He has to keep you alive, and we need more food.”

I want to believe her. With my whole heart, I wish what she was saying was true. I just don’t think Micah is capable of love—of loving me. How do you love someone when you don’t even like yourself? I’m hating myself more and more. I think I understand him better now, especially why he’s incapable of the emotion.

I shake my head. “Leave him be, don’t call for him. He needs this time.” He knew I was going to wake up, and he left before I did. He can’t face me.

She sits on the end of the bed, a worry line forming on her forehead. “I’m sorry, London. About Maison, about everything… It’s all so wrong.”

I let out a sob. My emotions are raw and real, and they bubble close to the surface. Hearing her say it out loud validates that it wasn’t just a horrible nightmare. I lost my best friend, and I will miss him with every ounce of my heart, forever.

She places her hand over mine, and her eyes gloss over. “We buried him, London. I can show you where.”

I breathe through a wave of nausea that storms my insides as the others’ voices travel over the meadow. “Why is everyone even here? Why are they not back at the other camp?”

She sucks in a deep breath. “Everyone came with us right when it happened. We all know what Nigel and Ezra did. James and the others want nothing to do with it. They are going to set up a new camp for themselves close to us.”

I close my eyes as pure exhaustion consumes me. “And what about Naomi and Ezra?” I can’t bring myself to say Nigel’s name out loud. “Do they get a fair share of supplies? What happened to them?”

Last I saw, Ezra lost four fingers. If he’s not dead, then that means they wasted critical supplies on him. I also noted Serena’s presence next to James, clinging to him now that Maison’s dead.

Jade senses the tightness in my body, my leading questions, my pure animalistic rage.

“Did you help them?” I finally muster up the courage to ask. I hardly recognize the voice that comes out of me. “Did you help Ezra? Is Micah okay with this?”

She runs her hand through her hair, suddenly seeming very uncomfortable, and looking at me as if I’m not a cripple, but someone capable of hurting her. “No one wanted this to happen, London,” she says. “But the rest of us aren’t here to condemn and kill people. We’ll leave that for the authorities when we are rescued. We cleaned Ezra up and gave them their fair share of supplies on this island. It’s a call we made as a group. Micah didn’t have a say in it.”

“Maison is dead,” I remind her in a putrid, hateful voice. “And we aren’t getting rescued. You gave them food that we need, and it could have kept us alive for one more week out here.”

A bob slides down her throat. “We did what we thought was best. Micah doesn’t think they’ll survive winter, but none of us need their deaths on our conscious.”

I lay my head back down. “So just Maison’s, then. Don’t worry about it. They will get what’s coming to them.”

I will make sure of it… even if I do it alone.

“Micah is our leader,” she continues. “Everyone agrees, but we didn’t trust him to make the right call on this one.”

I’m not surprised they still defer to him. He never stopped being in charge. No one else realized it, but he was always in control.

“He told us we only have one rule to follow.”

I smile despite myself. “Oh yeah? And what is that?”

“That we all have to stay alive.” She squeezes my hand. “Get some rest. You’ll feel better tomorrow. And I know you’ll feel better when Micah gets back. Everything is always better when Micah is around.”