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We walk for a bit through the gnarled trees. I follow him, clinging to his arm so the branches of those trees don’t reach down and eat me.

Smoke… a thick, dense smoke fills the air.

More than a campfire—this looks like a forest fire. I can taste the ash.

“There’s a fire nearby.” It’s not a question. Something surely isn’t right, and this landscape seems ripe for fires.

“Yeah, the smoke came in an hour ago. The moon is red.”

I glance up and see the blood-red moon, full and bright above us. It looks like it bears the mark of the devil. I shudder, thinking about what that could mean given how clear it was earlier.

Ezra leads me into the night, and I lean into him as he helps me take every step. He sighs and, eventually, pulls me into his arms as he navigates in the dark.

I instantly warm up, and I hate that I like it. I so desperately wish it was Micah warming me, but Ezra Schwartz is better than nothing.

We finally come upon another small death hole, and my stomach drops when I see a faint glow. He pauses in front of it, and I peer down, still in his arms. Red embers radiate from inside. A few feet away, a tiny hole is dug into the earth, with the only tarp we have on this island expertly placed inside it. Apparently, his shelter is in a death hole. The same as my prison, but this one is much nicer. I peer down again. It’s not as deep as the hole I was in, and he has blankets—lots of them—piled up. No roof per se, but a natural dip in the earth creates a small cave deep within, and the tarp would do the trick to shelter from the elements.

I’m actually impressed. This is a fantastic place to hide and would have provided exceptional insulation during the deep freeze. I’m sure Nigel has his lair somewhere nearby, too. All the pieces start to fit together in my mind, especially how they are still breathing.

“Is this where you live now?” I ask him.

“Yeah, it’s better than that fucking lake site and the shithole shelter Micah made us. I’m covered from the elements, and I can have a fire without the fucking thing burning down.”

I chuckle because the way he says it tells me he knows from experience.

I look around for Nigel, for any spark of human life other than the two of us.

“Where is he?” I ask cautiously. Saying his name out loud causes my body to have a visceral reaction.

“He’s close.”

I don’t push my luck to ask where or how far, grateful I get to sleep on something much more comfortable than the bedrock I was forced to lie on for the past few hours. The thick pile of clothes and blankets he used to construct a bed will do just fine.

He twitches his head, his beady eyes taking me in. “Get in.”

He’s sharing his bed with me, and I don’t know what to make of it. I hop down and sit cross-legged on the bed as he joins me. He fusses beside me, blowing on the embers so they heat but don’t flame. It’s enough to provide a comforting warmth in the tiny cave, and it casts a pleasant glow of calming, flickering light. As I watch him, he reminds me of Micah, not settling until the very last minute. Focused, brooding, and stronger than I gave him credit for.

He survived some serious shit, and as much as I hate him or am supposed to hate him, right now, I am grateful for him. Dare I say, I’m seeing, just a teensy bit, of what Naomi sees in him.

A kernel.

He sits beside me, sprawling his long legs out in front of him and finally relaxing, as if my presence here makes him super uncomfortable. I am stiff, too, like I don’t really know whether I should lie down or not. He did, after all, kidnap me and keep me in captivity for two days, and he was the one who knocked me out.

“I’m not making a fire tonight, so settle in,” he finally grunts. He looks stressed, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. I hesitate, secretly worried that he will choke me in my sleep, that this is some sort of ruse to get me to trust him.

This sad version of Ezra is… interesting.

He senses my nervous energy. “I’m not going to hurt you, London. At least, not right now, so go to sleep.” I might have been feisty earlier, but being with these guys has certainly broken my spirit and humbled me. My looks have little effect on Ezra and Nigel, unlike Micah and Maison, who started swooning the moment they laid eyes on me.

“Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?” I ask him, feeling brave. Shifting to get more comfortable, I enjoy the heat from the embers on my skin. I lie down, using my arm as a pillow, my injured one cradled against me.

His sad eyes shutter. “I don’t think you would have lived through the night, despite what Nigel thinks. And… I don’t want to be fucking alone, and I don’t want to spend time with him. Since you’re here right now, you’re kind of my only option.”

I can’t help but look at him—how tired he looks, how ravaged he is, and how hard it must have been to admit that to me.

“But don’t fucking test me,” he snaps as if sensing how nice he’s being. He finally lays his head back. He hands me a bottle of water, and I accept it, although I inspect it before drinking. “It’s fine. It’s from melted snow. It’s clean; I’ve been drinking it and haven’t gotten sick.”

I take a swig and drink down the entire thing. Instantly, I feel better.