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She is the embodiment of everything I am not.

I think of those auburn eyes as she peered up at me for months—mainly on her knees because that’s how I liked her—willing to do anything for me.

Blind love was pouring out of her.

Her precious life was in my hands, and I used that power and her body to fulfill every one of my dark desires. She gave herself to me—body and soul—loving me unconditionally because I promised to keep her alive and protect her. When ultimately, I was the one she needed protection from.

My hands don’t tremble as I turn the gun to my face. I don’t waver in my resolve as I click the safety off and spare one last glance at the bone weapon sitting in the grass beside me.

The symbol of the primitive creature I’ve become.

I take a deep breath of smoky air, enjoying the burning sensation in my lungs while the forest hums around me. I don’t hesitate to pull the trigger and—

Blow.

Chapter One

Micah

Four Months Earlier

There is an unexpected serenity in betrayal.

At least, that seems to be the case for the six other people sleeping soundly around me in the cold Arctic night, warming themselves from the relentless winter we are about to endure. Or should I say, they are about to endure. I’ve given them everything they need to survive and taught them everything I could, yet they’ve still managed to take the one thing from me they shouldn’t have: my trust in humanity. This place was once a peaceful haven, but unfortunately, the rest of the group has now infiltrated it and ruined that. By aiding my enemy, they became my enemy.

All of them.

I’m dead quiet as I make my way through the darkened campsite. The moonlight snakes around the branches of the trees that blend together as I navigate through them, like I am part of the forest itself. My heart rate is calm—too calm—as I use the rushing water of the nearby creek as my guide through the night.

Silent. Tranquil. Beautiful.

Pleasant thoughts I shouldn’t be having given our circumstances, which shows just how fucked up I am to be so at peace after what we went through. The untouched landscape reminds me we are alone out here, and I can make the rules on this island, bending and changing them as I see fit. And I enjoy having that kind of power.

Peaceful is also how I would describe the gorgeous brunette sleeping in the shelter in front of me, even though she is anything but. Maison’s death has taken a toll on her. Her eyes have lost their brightness, her body is deteriorating, and each breath is a painful effort. I can’t lose her, and I can’t take care of her here, where I don’t trust anyone, so I need to get her the fuck away from the others.

She doesn’t stir as I approach the shelter, nor when I crouch in front of it and gaze at her. She makes this bed of prickly fir tree branches seem comfortable, even though I can see her icy breath in the air around her.

How the hell I’m still alive is beyond me. How either of us are still breathing is a fucking miracle, and one I’m not taking for granted anymore.

I pause for a moment to take her in, appreciating the slow rise and fall of her perky breasts and the dull ache it causes in my chest. This girl slid into my life two months ago with all her awkwardness and slowly planted herself inside my heart, then twisted it with a butter knife.

A week has passed since my brother was murdered. And I’ve only had that gripping panic once, but it was so consuming it nearly broke me. A twisted sense of urgency that had nothing to do with this island, the lack of food, or the ridiculously cold season we are about to endure. None of it felt real, almost like it was happening to somebody else.

So I shut it down and decided to focus on what’s real, what’s important.

The obsessive need I now have to protect this girl I don’t deserve in the way I should have protected my brother and couldn’t.

Hunger, thirst, and sex are all that really matter to me anymore. And she is quite necessary for the third piece of my trinity—the foundation of my new existence.

So I put Maison out of my mind and give her my undivided attention… She’s my only priority from this point forward.

I crawl over the bed in our shelter, running my knuckles over her face, shifting her hair out of her eyes, which spring open as soon as I touch her. She’s never that far from consciousness—she’s always paying attention and alert.

“Is it time to go, Micah?” she whispers, shifting her body closer. She must have heard me prepping earlier because I never told her we were leaving tonight. Either that, or she sensed it as I couldn’t sit down all day and left the campsite—left her side—for the first time since I came back to her after Maison died. She keeps her voice low because she doesn’t want anyone else to hear, and the others are close—too fucking close.

“Yeah, baby, it’s time.”

A wolf howls in the distance, and she shudders.