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I could very well be the last living soul on this island.

My head is heavy as I slowly walk southward, trudging through the wet mud. My feet and legs are completely drenched after only a minute. But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop until I find the others.

Or Micah… whoever comes first.

Ten minutes go by, maybe more. I’ve lost track of time on this island a long time ago. I stick near the creek so I won’t get lost.

An unusual noise causes me to freeze. I glance around, half-expecting to see Maison. Instead, I spot a footprint, and my blood curdles.

He’s smiling, as if he were there all along, watching me through the trees, throwing stones at me. He looks thin and haggard, and his blond hair is long and stringy. For a fleeting moment, I question his existence. Then he clicks his tongue, and a deep panic settles in. The irony of my broken hand throbbing is not lost on me as I stare at the guy who caused the injury, walking toward me with a hockey stick spear in his hand.

His approach is slow and deliberate, and the mere thought of his name sends a chill down my spine. Out of nowhere, strong, rough hands firmly grab me from behind.

Argyle.

Chapter Eleven

Micah

Two scenarios are playing out in my mind.

Either Jade is lying, and this is a trap. Some really fucked-up plan to access my food and get rid of me. Thomas’s anger toward me and James’s little crush on London are the motivating factors for their clear betrayal. And the trap was well executed because I walked right into it.

Or…

London is in real danger, Nigel is still alive, and Naomi is really alone at the lake camp, half-dead and abandoned like she seems to be. I’d almost prefer the first alternative. It would give me an excuse to slaughter everyone on this island, feed this beast within me, and finally acknowledge the rage simmering deep inside. Also, it would be easier for me to decide what to do right now. I’m already treading a fine line with London, but Naomi alone at the lake camp is way too enticing, and blondes push me into making terrible decisions.

Plus, she’s half-dead, and leaving her here would seal her fate.

“Micah, is it really you, or am I dreaming?” She blinks a few times. Her pupils are dilated, like she can see me but can’t focus on me.

I tilt my head down as I crouch in the dark entrance. The whites of her eyes are shining in the ray of moonlight seeping through the roof, but they are bloodshot, which concerns me.

“Yeah, it’s really me.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” she asks, keeping her distance in the far corner of the shelter. It’s beyond weird seeing a girl who’s thrown herself at me her entire life shrinking away from me. To see her as a shell of who she once was, her eyes filled with genuine fear.

I crawl into the shelter and kneel a few inches away from her. The heat of her fever is radiating off her.

“That depends,” I admit. “Are you here alone?”

She nods carefully as I try to get a better view of her. She looks rough, covered in mud from head to toe, her hair in dreadlocks. She’s in a much worse state than Jade and the others. Skinnier, if that’s even possible. She’s wrapped herself in a single blanket, and she’s shivering despite the fact that she’s clearly burning up.

I can’t help it; I reach out and run my hands down her frail shoulders. As I expected, the skin on her neck is on fire. “Fucking hell, Naomi. What happened to you? Where’s Ezra?”

She shouldn’t be here, especially not alone, but she’s in no condition for questioning, given that she’s shaking. I pull out some water from my pack and place it to her lips. I only have a small amount, but I let her take her fill. I’ll get more tomorrow.

She lies down, curling into herself. “I left him,” she whimpers, but she’s barely coherent. I will hold off further questioning until she’s more lucid. Plus, I’m not sure if she would even tell me the truth.

She drinks the water and lays her head down, seemingly falling asleep immediately. It’s almost like my presence makes her feel safe enough to finally sleep, like she’s confident I will take care of her.

Which I will…

She looks so peaceful, her face in a serene state.

These girls give me their blind trust, and I take it greedily. Just like London thrives on praise, I yearn for their obsession with me, as if it validates my existence.

Constant reassurance.