1. Chapter One
Chapter One
Micah
Four Months Earlier
T here 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.
I lie down with her for a moment and squeeze her frail body against mine, pressing my lips to her forehead. “We have to leave now, okay? If we wait even a day, the temperature will drop.” More snow is coming; I can smell it. And heavy snowfall is usually followed by a prolonged deep freeze. I’m not risking getting stuck here all winter with them, not when I can have London all to myself—completely devoid of anyone else. No more distractions for her. Just me, her, and the island… like it’s supposed to be.
Her breath lengthens, and her tiny fingers grasp the fabric of my shirt. She raises her head to gaze at me, then grabs me harder and lays her head in the crook of my arm. Her eyes are glassy, like she’s been crying. I understand what she’s thinking; I’ve left her too many times, and as a result, she doesn’t fully trust me. The thought of being alone out here terrifies her, and being here without Maison scares her even more. And in the back of her mind, she is petrified of who is out there… the one wearing a bow tie.
I arch my brows, sensing her hesitation to leave with me. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you, London.” I keep my voice low and even. “You need to trust me. I’ll take care of you. ”
I love her like I’ve never loved anyone. And even though she knows I struggle to say the words, she must feel it. I won’t let anyone near her again. And when I’m done with her—not that I plan on ever being done with her—she won’t have the capacity to think about anyone else, let alone cry about anyone else.
That seems to settle her. She nods, her eyes hooded, and gives me a faint smile. She looks broken, her pale skin blending in with the fresh snow I packed around this shelter.
Hold on a little longer, sweetheart. I’ve got you.
It’s dumped at least a foot of snow already, which is a perfect framework for a liveable shelter the others can use to survive. I have a small sense of relief knowing I’m abandoning them to it. Snow is a natural insulator, so it’s as if they have a thermal blanket… if they choose to see it that way.
I grab London’s hand, and she winces. She will need major rehab from what that fucker did to her a week ago when he stepped on it, twisting her wrist and shattering her fragile bones and veins before stabbing her in the hip. When I finally have time to focus on her, I plan to put her back together. She can’t walk long distances yet, and I won’t push her—at least, not this time. I’ve pushed her enough on this island. I’m going to carry her every step of the way if I can.
The place is ready; I’ve spent the last three days making sure it’s fucking perfect for her. I have no intention of leaving, and I have no intention of letting her leave, either.
With her head resting on me, her shallow breaths tease my chest. She may have fallen back asleep. “Are you sure we shouldn’t at least tell Thomas and Jade where we are going?” She yawns, keeping her eyes closed. “They won’t be happy we’re leaving,” she adds, a tinge of guilt in her voice, “especially since we’re fleeing in the dead of night.”
That makes me chuckle. “We’re not fleeing, London. I don’t run.” However, fleeing might be accurate. Thomas has been watching me; he knows I’m up to something. But he won’t speak to me… We haven’t uttered a word to each other since I cut off his hand. And other than saying I was sorry to him when he regained consciousness, what else was I supposed to fucking say about it?
“Whatever you say, Micah,” London murmurs, her lips on my neck. “But it seems like we’re fleeing.” I shift beneath her as I suppress the jolt in my groin from her lips touching me like that—it happens every time those beautiful lips touch my skin. But there will be ample opportunity to focus on that once she’s fully healed.
“I don’t trust any of them anymore,” I tell her softly. “It’s better for everyone if we leave.”
A week ago, her fury matched mine, but now that her energy has depleted, all that’s left within her is all-consuming grief. And all that’s left within me is a primal need to claim her, to make her pain go away and pull it inside me.
Her body is like an ice cube next to me, so I rub her arms and back, pulling her wolf blanket around her. As I gaze at the midnight sky, I can feel the gentle rhythm of her breathing next to me. The stars are the main reason why I don’t sleep at night—they fill the void of nothingness within me. I much prefer nocturnal life when I don’t have to talk to anyone.
I see the way they all look at me now. Every single one of them fears me. I chopped Ezra’s fingers off with zero hesitation, and I would have done it to Nigel, too, if he hadn’t scuttled away from me like a fucking mouse. They believe I’m unhinged because Maison died. They barely bring up his name when I’m around, like it’s some dirty, taboo topic. They all moved on, gathering wood, hunting, and fishing, and I helped them stock up for winter. It makes me feel less guilty knowing they at least have some food to keep them going. If they run out, it’s their problem. Maybe they shouldn’t have given a third of our supplies away.
I rest my eyes, and after a few minutes, soft snores fill the shelter. That’s my signal. With London so drained, she will hopefully sleep most of the way. So I gather her in my arms and wrap her wolf blanket around her head. She’s going to need the comfort and warmth since the trek won’t be fun for either of us, but the payoff will be worth it .
She lets me lift her without any complaint and leans her head against my chest as I cradle her. Her eyes are barely open, her lashes fluttering. She’s wearing Maison’s hockey sweater, which she hasn’t taken off since he died. My body tenses at the sight of it, but I quickly push him out of my mind. She isn’t his anymore. And it doesn’t matter that she won’t let him go because she’ll learn who she belongs to soon enough.
I walk through the dark camp with my hood over my head, past the pile of food I left them along with some hunting wire. I’ve already made this walk twice tonight, counting when I took London’s pack and all her belongings. This will be my third and last trip, and by the hint of light in the sky, I can tell it’s nearly morning. I took what I deemed mine, including the girl in my arms, away from here. The only other item I have on me is my hunting knife, which is secured and sheathed on my back.
I think about the knife often… more often than I should. What the sensation would be like having it slice into my side instead of his. I swear, Maison’s pain fused with my own, creating an indistinguishable blend of anguish between us.
London is light as a feather in my arms as I glide through the soft snow, but her face betrays her. Every step I take hurts her. She whimpers, even though I take careful steps through the planned route to the abandoned hunting cabin I found a few days ago, sequestered among the trees. She isn’t well, but I couldn’t keep her here any longer knowing I have a place much better for her. Somewhere she can actually heal and forget all the shit she’s been through. Where I can keep her alive while preserving our sanity.
The cold wind bites through the fabric of my hoodie, and the snow seeps through my shoes to the point where I can no longer feel my toes. Since I only have shoes, not boots like any sane person should have given we are in Alaska, my feet are fucking frozen. I have a clear understanding of the route despite the snow reaching up to my calf. I’ve done it a few times prepping for this, and I’m not making London walk in the snow. Not that she can even walk yet since her wound is still fresh. And I can handle the cold, probably better than I should.
Everything is still so fresh… white and crisp. After a while, her whimpers stop, and I’m certain she’s asleep. How this girl can sleep while being carried like this is beyond me, but she seems to have no issue anytime she’s in my arms. She passes out within minutes.
I’ve always wanted her… I was certain the day after the plane crash—when she was wearing the wrong number on her back and looking at me with utter disdain—that we belonged together.
So I took her, just as I’m taking her now. Over the course of a month and a half, I carefully and gradually separated her from my brother. At first, I resisted it, but eventually, my desire seeped into my subconscious. Despite my efforts to despise her, I now realize that every action I took—every touch, gaze, or avoidance—was an attempt to make her fall in love with me. Unlike Olivia, who was wrong for me from the beginning, London should have been mine from the start. Maison had his chance at love, but he killed his last girlfriend.
He didn’t deserve London.
My body nearly gives out after an hour of walking. The only light is the moon reflecting off the snow, but I learned a long time ago that on a clear night during winter, snow acts as a flashlight. I can see perfectly in the dark.
London shifts in my arms as I sit for a rest, keeping her cradled on my lap. The passenger princess finally wakes up. “Micah, are we almost there?” Her lips tickle my stubble. Her soft angel-like cheek is cold as it presses against my face.
“Yeah, London. We’re close. I just need a break.”
Her body shivers. “Good. I’m so cold, and I just want to sleep for a year.”
Her eyes are glued to me now. She’s awake—alert and pondering—but her eyelids are heavy and she’s missing the spark I love so much about her.
The tip of her nose is red, so are her ears, and her hair is frozen, but bringing her out here is a risk I’m willing to take. I lean down and kiss her brow, pulling the blanket around her again.
“Come on. Let’s keep moving.” The frost is here to stay now. Within days, we probably won’t be going outside for months.
I continue on and finally see the trail marker I left for myself, indicating that the cabin is nearby. Behind me is a deep trail of footprints I left… The others could easily find us if they wanted, but if they follow me, I will kill them. They must be aware of that and, hopefully, will concentrate on their own survival without worrying about us. Eventually, the snow will hide my tracks, and this hunting cabin is so well-hidden that not even the spawn of Satan would be able to find it.
I carry her through the thick forest of fir trees and ignore the burning sensation on my ears and nose until I see it, hidden among the trees and brush, the roof covered in snow. When I arrive, I push open the wooden door and step inside. The room is sparsely furnished, with just a double bed tucked in the corner and one small table and chair, and the kitchen is comprised of a small wood-burning stove. The air inside smells of aged timber and musty earth. I place her on the foam mattress someone left here, next to the stone fireplace that takes over an entire wall, which is blackened from soot from the countless fires lit by whoever was here before us.
Earlier, I put four blankets down on top of the bed. She lies down and curls her knees to her chest, pulling her wolf blanket over her. I already prepared as much wood as I could, and I smile as I light the fire while she makes herself comfortable.
“Why is this place here?” she finally asks after countless minutes of watching me work. “Is this a dream?”
I see that gleam in her eyes as I crawl in and lie down, curling myself behind her, the day finally catching up with me. “No, it’s not a dream. It’s where we’re going to live now, baby. They won’t find us here. I promise.” Nobody will ever find this place. Whoever built it clearly didn’t want to be found .
She lifts her head, and the edges of my lips quirk at the look she’s giving me—the same look she’s been giving me from the beginning, her eyes bright with curiosity. It’s how I eventually suspected she felt the same.
She turns her attention to the cabin itself as if inspecting every inch of it. Eventually, she crinkles her nose and rests her head down. “It’s small and dirty in here, and it smells funny,” she says.
I kiss the back of her head, suppressing a smile, and press my warm hands over her freezing ears. “Sorry I can’t provide you with more luxury, sweetheart, but this is home now. It has a stocked fridge, a woodstove, and a bed, so you’re welcome.”
The stove even has some cast-iron pots and pans which, along with the supplies I brought here, should sustain us for a while. Fuel, fire starter, a knife, the canned beans she loves so much, lard, pasta, spam, canned fish, sauces, and a bunch of frozen meat from small game I hunted and smoked over the past week to prepare for this. The freshwater creek that leads into the lake is close by, so we will be able to catch fish even during winter.
It has everything we need for long-term survival. It’s as if someone wrapped it up like a present, just for me.
“It’s perfect,” she finally says. “But… what if whoever lives here comes back?”
I tuck her into my arms. “The person who built this place hasn’t been here for a long time, baby. They won’t come back; it’s ours now.”
She turns to face me, placing her good hand over my face and cupping my cheek as the morning light shines through our one tiny window. I think she does that to prove to herself it’s me she’s with, and not Maison. I’ve never seen her do that to Maison. It’s like she has to touch my jawline to determine which brother she’s fucking. It probably doesn’t help that I’m being all gushy and calling her baby , either. It must be confusing for her.
She kisses me, pressing her lips to mine. It’s missing the luster it usually has, so I peel away. She’s tired… When I fuck her again, I want to unleash. I can’t hold back, so it’s easier and better for both of us if we wait. Especially for what I have planned for her. Because then, she’ll never question who’s inside her anymore.
“Not yet, London,” I whisper. “You’re not ready. I want you to focus on getting better. Just sleep now.”
I haven’t fucked her since Maison died; I haven’t even tried since the night I hurt her at the cove and called her the wrong name. Every day I spend with her is torturous. I want her so fucking badly that she’s consuming every single one of my thoughts.
She purses her lips but rests her head down, and her eyes grow heavy as her body finally warms. “I am ready for you, Micah,” she whispers before sleep takes her. “I want to make you feel good now.”
That makes two of us.
But she isn’t ready for me, for what I really need from her. I’ll be patient.
I run my hand over her forehead. “When you’re better, I plan on fucking you in every position, in every square inch of this shack. Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart, because once I start, I won’t stop.”
She pulls away and runs her hand through my hair. Then she lays her head down again, but the flash in her eyes pains me. It betrays her because I can see the anguish in them, even if she’s putting on a brave face for me.
She’s thinking about him.
That’s what she says she wants—to satisfy me—but to satisfy me, it will only be me. And she will have to explore her own limits and expose a side of me I haven’t shared with anyone. Even Olivia didn’t get the full breadth of what I’m capable of.
“I love you, Micah,” London breathes as I slide my hand over her stomach and let my eyes hang heavy. I love hearing my name from her lips. Heat fills my core at her blind trust in me. “I’m sorry about Maison.”
I bristle at her ruining the moment.
“Go to sleep, London. It’s going to be a long winter.” I yawn, shifting to get into a comfortable position, resting one hand behind my head and one on her hip.
I don’t want to share her with him, even in grief. She doesn’t seem to pick up on my annoyance and nestles in for the night. As I watch her lips part, I wonder for a moment if I’ve made the right decision to bring her here.
As perfect as this situation is for me right now, it’s only a matter of time before I truly wreck this girl… more than I already have. Because I’m fucked up, I’ve always been fucked up, and I doubt that will ever change. I’m selfish… and I want her completely and utterly to myself.
I draw circles on her stomach and move my fingers to her back, where she melts even further into my body. The wind kicks up outside, pushing cold air through the poorly insulated, splintered walls. We barely made it before the snow hit. To the final place she will ever call home, with the last person she will ever see. Because I’ve found my new obsession, and there is no one here to stop me. What I have planned for her will erase Maison from her mind. I will make her forget the existence of everyone in this world but me.