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“Don’t fucking move,” Nigel screams, and the intensity of his scream has all of us stunned. “Take one step, and I will slice her neck open.”

James stands frozen, his forehead sweaty. “Look, man, I don’t know how he got her. When I woke up and saw she was gone, I figured you two were together,” James says, looking really fucking nervous.

I hood my eyes. “James, go get Jade. I’ll handle this.”

Another snap, another looming shadow in the woods. Ezra steps forward, darting his gaze from me to Nigel, the knife I gave him flashing in his hand.

“James, go now. Jade needs you,” I say.

James pauses for only a moment before disappearing from view, hopefully taking Jade to Thomas, leaving me alone with Nigel and Ezra.

I look at Nigel, who is shaking with his eyes wide open and holding his knife right to London’s throat, his focus solely on Ezra. “I’ll give you food, Ezra. All of it—as much as you need. You’ll have a better chance of surviving than if you wait for whatever crumbs they leave you with.”

I scoff at the desperation in Nigel’s voice, but Ezra has a vacant look in his eyes that I don’t like. He doesn’t move; he doesn’t do fucking anything.

“Kill him, Ezra. I kept you safe all winter, and he mutilated you,” Nigel orders, like he’s been giving orders to Ezra the entire time we’ve been here. Brainwashing him. “Remember who saved you and kept you alive all winter.”

Ezra flashes his eyes void of emotion at me, looking down at his lonely thumb and missing fingers. Ezra takes a menacing step toward me, causing Nigel to grin.

London’s been defending Ezra for days—at every glare, every snide comment I make. I don’t know what transpired between them while they were together, but I hope, for her sake, that she got through to him.

I soften my hard gaze. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry for what I did to your hand and what I did growing up. Don’t do this for me, man. Do this for Maison, and for London. You obviously care about her now, and I know she fucking cares about you.”

Ezra’s face drops, and he gives me a nod. He turns to Nigel, who throws London like a sack of rocks at him, realizing she is in his way of making an escape. He takes a trembling step back, shaking now with his eyes wide open, waving his knife in front of him like it’s actually going to stop me.

With a wide grin spreading across my face, I tilt my head to the side and crack my neck. That lethal pent-up energy is about to explode out of me. “You better fucking run.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Micah

Nigel launches himself into the thick trees right as the threat leaves my lips. The motherfucker is as quick as he is slimy, but he got away from me last time. I won’t let him get away from me twice. Secretly, I’m happy he ran because now I get to hunt, and that is much more fun.

London is a mess on the ground, and I have to make a split decision on either chasing Nigel down or tending to London. I sweep my gaze over to Ezra in a blind panic. “Protect her, please. And don’t follow me. I need to end this.”

London and I make eye contact as I say the last part, and her face contorts. “Do you understand, London? Stay the fuck here. He will kill you if he has the chance, baby. I have to finish this.” I vanish before she can reply, leaving her with maybe the worst bodyguard ever, but he’s the only person I’ve got at the moment. Although I hate leaving London again, this is my chance to finally deal with Nigel.

My nails dig into my palms as I step into the woods where he disappeared a mere ten seconds before, keeping my eyes open and my pace steady. A feeling I can only describe as lightning courses through my blood. The air is so still, and I focus on the sounds of the forest—the soft hum, the creaking branches. My nose twitches at the lingering smoke in the air. I become one with the forest; my senses are keen as if bolstered by my rage.

Nigel’s very adept at being quiet, I’ll give him that. But he is sorely underestimating my tracking skills. He’s not that far ahead of me. If he even so much as snaps a twig or crunches his foot on a leaf, I’ll hear him.

I stand frozen, not wanting to make the first move should he lead me astray. I don’t want to resort to searching those caves for him. If he escapes there, he may be able to hide from me. Then he’ll come for London again and again, and he won’t stop until he kills her.

It’s quiet. The branches and trees are still, as if the forest is on my side, refusing to provide him cover through its natural wards…

He’s close.

“Come on out, bow tie,” I taunt, my eyes finding broken sticks and twigs. I see an imprint on the ground, then another.

I smile as a sense of warmth engulfs me. “Got you, you little asshole,” I mutter, walking over to a thick brush as a whirl of argyle snaps into focus. I’m amused by his pathetic attempt at holding his knife in front of him.

He swipes the knife, slicing the air, his skin a ghostly white and a sneer on his face. “Get back, Micah.”

I confidently grip my bone weapon and approach him, completely unfazed by his sharper weapon or his ability to wield it.

He swipes at me again, and this time, I catch it between the bones of the antler and effortlessly toss it out of his hands, not wanting to touch the blade that recently beheaded one of my peers.

A twinge hits my gut as he falls to his knees before me, knowing all the power is mine. I grab him by the hair and yank him up. I want to understand the texture of death—not just watch someone die but experience it with them. The sensation when life is sucked out of them.