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The pain in her eyes surprises me. Like she actually thinks she has a chance.

She laughs darkly. “There you are, Micah. I thought you went all soft on me.”

I shake her. “Is this a fucking joke to you? You’re not telling me the full story of what happened between you and Ezra, so start fucking talking.”

She loves it when I get like this. She constantly tries to pull this reaction out of me; she seeks it out. It’s not reciprocated. No more teasing, no more games. I don’t want Naomi Wilson, nor do I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I have to find London.

“I have nothing left but my sense of humor, Micah. Because, apparently, you stole my dignity along with my virginity. Which, if I recall, you enjoyed doing.”

I ease my grip and tense my jaw. I’m playing right into her games because when I get mad, I get horny, and she is fully aware of that.

“Don’t test me, or I’ll abandon you in the woods somewhere. If you don’t start talking, you’ll end up dead because I won’t take care of you anymore. I’ll drop you in the most remote place I can find, and I’ll get the fuck away from you.”

“I told you. We ran out of food,” she snarls. “I had no choice but to leave him. He wouldn’t exactly have been welcome anywhere else. I wasn’t in the mood to die, so I left him to find the others. I told him I’d be back… and I just never went back.”

She pauses for a moment, a break in her thoughts. “Their plan has always been to find you and take her from you to get you to give up the location of your food. They got your location from Jade.”

I listen, pause, and consider, even though this information isn’t new to me. What I didn’t realize was that Naomi was in on it, which changes everything.

“And your plan, Naomi?”

She slides her eyes to mine, meeting my gaze with fury. “Does it seem like I have a fucking plan?” Her eyes flash with pain. “You won’t hurt me, Micah. You can pretend all you want, but we both know you won’t.”

Heat rolls through my stomach. She has no fucking clue how many times I’ve thought about killing her these past few days and how I might even enjoy it. Or how many times I’ve thought about killing myself. I’m turning into a monster. Slowly, day by day, I’m drowning in my darkness as I always knew I would.

I lean forward and cup her cheek, grazing my thumb along her neck. She swallows, and her face goes white.

“Yeah, Naomi, I would hurt you,” I whisper, “and that’s what you are not quite comprehending.”

I rise and pull her up. She fights me but gets on her feet, and I start to yank her forward. “Come on. Get fucking dressed. We’re leaving now.”

“What do I get out of it?” she snaps, scrambling to put some clothes on and slapping my hand. “If I tell you where they are, what are you going to do with me?”

There she is… This was never about me or her fake feelings for me. She can’t be fucking pathetic enough to still want me this badly after the way I treated her. This was planned… meticulously fucking planned. I walked right into it, and now London is probably with some seriously deranged, starving lunatics—one of which killed my brother in cold blood.

I throw on some warm clothes and stuff an extra sweater in my pack, then grab my knife and my bone weapon. I forcefully push Naomi out the door before she even has a chance to blink. “I swear to god, Naomi, if this is some sort of game or trap to lure me away from here, or if they hurt London… I will kill you.”

Chapter Fifteen

London

Day unknown

Sometime in April

Something’s happening. Our time on this island is ending. I’ve been held captive and betrayed by the person I trusted above all others. And the worst part is that I’m unsure if he is still alive. Ezra, Nigel, and I might be the only people left. If anyone reads this, things are not okay. Real evil exists in this world and comes in many hidden forms. It lingers in all of us. The signs were always there. Nigel needs to be punished for what he is and what he has done. For the world’s sake, I hope this pretty little island kills him. If I can manage to stay alive long enough, I won’t let him survive this. I will find a way to end him because he doesn’t deserve to live through this.

I shut my leather-bound journal and rest my head against the rock. I unwrap the bandage around my wounded hand and attempt to move my fingers. The skin on my hand is scabbing and starting to heal to the point where I’m not worried about infection anymore. However, it’s the lack of pain that scares me the most. By the time I’m done, I’m nearly sweating. I am unable to move a single finger, not even my pinky. Focusing on something other than my hunger or the fact that I have no idea where Ezra has gone helps pass the time, at least. He left an hour ago and said he would be back.

I’m much better today, my body no longer weighed down by extreme fatigue. My fever broke, and Ezra did what he could to keep my hand clean and my fever down. I think he saved my life last night by keeping me hydrated, letting me sip on water from the pools of what’s left of the melting snow. It’s not ideal, and he knows it. It’s only a matter of time—days, if not hours—before we have to find somewhere else to go. That pooled water will start to rot; it’s already turning black with mold. Yesterday, I slept the day away, trying not to cry or draw too much attention to the fact that I was there, in his space, sleeping in Naomi’s spot.

He left on a few occasions without uttering a word, effortlessly vaulting over the edge of the cave wall and vanishing in a manner reminiscent of Micah. I kept the fire going while he was gone, staring at those embers, which mesmerized me so much that time had no rhythm. When he came back, he handed me my leather-bound journal, which I stared at in awe, and went about his business, engrossed in whatever he does to keep himself occupied.

I took it as a peace offering since I had lost the book when he slammed ice over my head. I assumed I had dropped it and didn’t give it much thought. Ezra seems content with my presence now and hasn’t killed me, even though he had every opportunity to. There would have been no resistance from me; I would have willingly surrendered to that darkness.

I press the leather against my cheek, happy to have it back, even though the words written inside terrify me. My eyes grow heavy, so I rest them, and I’m not sure how much time goes by before Ezra jumps into the cave.

“It’s time to go, London. We have to meet Nigel.”