17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
London
I stand alongside Ezra as we step through the dark tree line and the wooden cabin comes into view. We stand utterly still, side by side, our hands a mere inch from each other—mine mangled, his with missing fingers. It’s a decrepit, creepy cabin now that I really get a good look at it. And why it’s even here, in the middle of nowhere, is the creepiest part of it all. Watching it from afar, it’s almost like I’m somebody else and this wasn’t where I spent the last four months. A different girl arrived in this cabin a few months ago. It’s not the same girl standing here now.
“Micah keeps the food under the floorboards,” I whisper as we approach. My insides are screaming at me for betraying him like this, but I’m desperately hungry. I’ve never coped well with the hunger.
“There is a trapdoor in one of them, with a secret compartment inside.” I often wonder why whoever built this place put that hidden compartment there.
Who or what they were hiding from…
Ezra’s eyes narrow as he takes in the cabin—the secret Micah fought so hard to keep.
“Seems cozy,” he mutters, keeping his eyes on it as he shifts beside me.
I don’t respond to that .
We have no plan. We left as soon as I told Ezra I knew how to find the cabin, but I made him promise he would stick with me and give none of it to Nigel. And if Micah is there, I made him promise to let me handle him.
He agreed. I trusted him, and we departed in the early evening, trying to hide among the shadows of the night. We walked through the dreadful forest, past the fallen trees, dead souls, and tragedies. He carried me a bit of the way when I lost my footing, but we barely spoke. We stopped at the creek where I filled my bottle, and now we are here.
The cabin is dark, lonely, and haunted, and I wonder how I ever thought of such a wicked place as a safe haven. A circle of fir trees stands watch over it, blending the shack into the surrounding landscape—protecting it—as if this cabin is part of nature itself. If you didn’t know it was there, you would never even notice it. But I paid attention to the markings around it and studied the woods so I could find it again if I needed to. I also left a marker, a small hair tie I was relieved to see was still hanging from the branch where I left it. Either Micah isn’t paying attention, or he is losing touch with reality.
My stomach sinks at the view of the flickering light inside and the realization of what I am seeing. He’s in there without me. And that means he hasn’t come to find me. Because if he had, he would have succeeded. He would have found a way.
Ezra watches me in my torment as I stare at the cabin and the woods beyond. “I told you he isn’t a good guy,” he says. “He doesn’t care about you, London. The only person Micah cares about is himself.”
What Ezra doesn’t understand is how little I feel in this moment or the fact he’s not much better than Micah. After all, he is keeping me captive, too. I guess when there are no other alternatives, people become valuable possessions—possibly as valuable as food. And I think, somehow, I’ve become a possession to merely barter for something better and more useful.
With a lump in my throat, I cautiously tread through the slushy mixture of mud and snow behind Ezra. My legs grow heavier with each step, but my mind clears up. We peer inside the small, dirty window—the only window, the one I spent months gazing out of into the wintery night.
That feels like a lifetime ago.
It’s hard to see through the pane as it’s layered with grime and fifty years’ worth of dirt. My eyes are weary, and the light is the trickiest at this moment of the night, but shadows dance inside. There is clear movement in the single room near the bed. Two shadows intermingled together.
Micah isn’t alone.
We only watch for a moment, but a moment is all I need before I stumble a couple of steps back. Because I am numb and utterly detached from myself watching him with her, just as Nigel and Ezra had predicted.
Even without looking at him, I can feel the terrifying energy Ezra emits behind me. Something shifts in him, an audible snap, and his body chemistry changes. I turn to face him and the heat is radiating off him. The nice guy I’ve caught glimpses of over these past few days is gone, and the one staring back at me is feral—the boy he has become after enduring the horrors of this island. My heart stills at the look in his eyes as they glaze over and darken like the evening sky above us.
And they are directed right at me.
I fidget under his hardened glare. The wheels are turning in his head as he stares at me, then to the window, and then back to me, his lip curling. I know that look—the raw, unhinged emotion radiating from him. Seeing Naomi with Micah was the final straw, and his sanity is shattering.
“Ezra, you don’t need her,” I whisper.
A wicked grin spreads over his face, one I’ve not seen on him before. “You’re right,” he says darkly, looking at me like I’m meat. “I fucking don’t.”
I hate the way he’s looking at me. It’s not him… This isn’t Ezra. My body is frozen, and a cry is building in my throat as he closes the few inches between us. I twist away from him toward the cabin, the door a mere ten feet away. So close… Micah’s so close to me, but I don’t know if I can call out to him.
I stand frozen, the anger swelling inside me so potent, but I need him.
I need Micah.
I open my mouth to scream…
“Don’t fucking do it, London,” Ezra warns, fully aware of what I’m thinking. I bite my lip, too scared to move. “Don’t scream, London. Don’t make a fucking peep. I have nothing to lose anymore, and I don’t care if I live or die. If you cry out, I will slit your throat before he has the chance to save you.”
Ezra lies when he says he doesn’t care… Because if he didn’t care whether he lived or died, he wouldn’t be threatening me to begin with. Why wouldn’t he just make his presence known and let Micah kill him? Because he wants to live, and saying otherwise is bullshit.
He grabs me before I can react and clamps his hand so hard on my mouth that I can’t gasp for air. He has his hockey skate spear digging into my neck. I can’t bear the image of Naomi on top of Micah, so I close my eyes.
“Open your goddamn eyes and watch them,” he orders, his fingers digging into me.
Micah and Naomi. They are impossible not to see. Even with my eyes closed, it’s an image I’ll never forget.
“This is what I was warning you about.” His voice cracks—raw.
I swallow hard, watching them. Tears sting my eyes as I take in what I know is killing him inside, too. I’m gutted and absolutely torn apart watching them as they embrace. My body shakes as I see her lean up, and even from this distance, it’s impossible to mistake what they are doing. I close my eyes so I can’t watch.
“Tell me who you see in there.” I don’t recognize Ezra, the raw pain in his voice.
“Micah and Naomi,” I whisper, and it pains me to say it, too.
“That’s right. Micah and fucking Naomi. Now someone else gets to experience the pain of witnessing them together. This is what I’ve experienced for years. This. Is. What. They. Do. ”
Taking advantage of his moment of pain, I twist out of his grip. He reaches out for me, but I’m quicker, finding whatever inner strength is left inside me. Instead of screaming, I turn and run as fast as I can into the woods. He catches me quickly and pushes me to the ground.
He chuckles as he presses my shoulders down. His eyes blaze like starlight, his brute strength pinning me beneath him. “You think I’m going to let you get rescued? You’re a liar, just like she is. You were never going to give me the food, were you?”
He’s wrong, so utterly wrong. I would have; I was going to. I didn’t think things through. Part of me hoped Micah wouldn’t be here, that maybe, just maybe, he was dead, and this food is rightfully mine.
I can’t breathe. I can’t find the words to beg Ezra to stop because he’s crushing my lungs. All I can manage is to stare up at him with pleading eyes as they begin to sting with dirty tears. He presses on me harder. “Quit struggling. I’m all you have, London. And trust me, you’re not my fucking first choice, either.”
Somewhere in the distance, I hear Micah call for me.
“London, answer me. I know you’re there.”
One scream. All I have to manage is one scream. But I’m too petrified to utter a word, not with how unhinged Ezra is and all that rage burning inside him. I understand it all too well, given the intense emotions this island brings out of us. One single overwhelming thought has the power to cripple you. At this moment, my mind mirrors Ezra’s, shrouded in darkness.
I’ve underestimated him.
Ezra is just as capable as Micah to do fucked-up shit, and right now, he is wounded and vulnerable. He cut Thomas’s hand, pressed a knife to Micah’s throat, and pulled me out of my shelter and let Naomi and Nigel hurt me. He took me and held me captive these past few days.
I finally realize what I should have known all along. I’m alone here. Truly alone. We all are. Everyone still alive is fucking deranged.
My anger consumes me, a dark cloud blotting any amount of light within me .
I hate this island. I hate everyone on it.
Especially Micah Matei.
Ezra drags me deeper into the woods with his hand still clamped over my mouth, which is entirely unnecessary. I’m resolved to not scream. I’ll never scream again.
As my oxygen dwindles, darkness engulfs my world.
I should have known… I’m not special to Micah. He needs release, and he will get it from whoever will give it to him. The only person who really thought I was special is dead.
Micah taught me all winter to crave him like a pet—to only want him, obey him, and prioritize his desires. Only after was he completely satisfied would he finally give me what I wanted, and by then, I yearned for it so intensely that my skin felt like it might liquefy.
He made me fucking needy.
The weight of my grief for Maison cripples me, the force surpassing my hate and anger combined. Bundled up in Ezra’s arms, I watch as Micah and Naomi pass us in the woods. Darkness ripples, my body descending into it.
“Don’t fall asleep…The fun’s only beginning.” Those are the final words I hear Ezra whisper before I go limp and fall into an oxygen-less bliss.
It’s the stench of decaying flesh that awakens me. A hint of acidic smoke teases my nostrils to the point where I almost choke on it.
I slowly regain my senses. Strong arms are wrapped around me, and cold steel is pressed to my neck. My body is numb and limp, and every muscle screams at me as I stand, barely mobile. If it weren’t for Ezra holding me up, I doubt I would be standing. I’m completely reliant on him… I have nothing left .
I’m inside the airplane, I realize, and the residual acidic smell of the crash still lingers in the air, even after six months. I will recognize this smell for the rest of my brief life. Even in my death, it will still haunt me.
I have no memory of how I got here. The last thing I remember was Micah walking by as Ezra suffocated me.
The anger that erupted within me.
I felt all of Ezra’s rage and sadness as if they were my own—the last moments before his breaking point. Seeing Naomi with Micah was his undoing, as it was mine. I keep my eyes closed, seeing no point in opening them.
But Ezra is shaking.
Why is he shaking?
I hear Micah before I see him. Ezra tightens his hold on me in warning as two figures emerge at the front of the plane. We stay hidden among the shadows in the back as Micah steps in and looks from side to side. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw flexes as he takes in his surroundings.
Ezra must have beaten him here.
The moonlight shines bright on Naomi’s platinum hair, and I can tell, even from here, how shiny she is. How much better she looks than me. My hair, full of mud and sticks, hangs over my face. I can smell myself, and it’s not pretty. The stench from not bathing for days combined with blood, sweat, and whatever odor is coming out of the wrap on my hand.
I finally make eye contact with Micah and shake my head, knowing Ezra might do it if pressed. He might kill me. His hatred for Micah runs that deep. I didn’t think it would be Ezra ending my life. And oddly enough, Nigel is entirely missing.
Nigel would love this, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was lurking somewhere nearby, watching the rest of us deteriorate.
Micah stands tense in front of Naomi, as if protecting her from me as I spew my anger toward them. His hair is tousled in his face, and I can’t make his expression in the dark, but I can imagine it .
He came for me… He finally came for me. And for a tiny moment, that’s all that matters. Something sharpens in my chest.
“ Ezra! ” Naomi screams from behind Micah, and she steps toward him. What Micah does next surprises me.
In a swift motion, Micah pulls Naomi in front of him and places his knife to her throat. Her eyes bulge at the force of it and at the blade grazing the tender spot on her neck.
The sight of it ignites something inside me. It lights a fire, if only a flicker of it. Micah’s eyes don’t leave mine, and he has a pained look on his face I recognize so much.
Ezra bristles and tenses as if taken off guard by this after what we just saw them doing. For a few tense seconds, it’s as if no one breathes. The four of us are staring silently at each other in the dark. In the place that started it all.
Mist from the forest and melting snow circles the air outside—a deep, thick fog rolling in for the occasion.
“Micah…” Naomi whimpers, peering up at him. “Why are you doing this?”
Micah cocks his head and pulls her into the crook of his arm. That muscled arm I miss so much. As much as I miss the softness of his sweatshirt, his dark, sexy demeanor, and the way he always smells so manly. Why does Micah have to look like a fucking god? Even when I hate him, my body pulses at the sight of him. He’s never looked so good to me—with his intense energy as he sticks a knife against Naomi’s throat and his hood over his face.
“Don’t fucking talk, Naomi. Keep your fucking mouth shut right now.” His voice is deep and cutting, and my cheeks heat at the sound of it. His brows are furrowed and his jaw clenches as if he’s stressed—like he wishes he could keep us both but is ultimately choosing me.
She bites her lip and goes wholly still, her eyes watering. Finally ripping his eyes from me, Micah shifts his focus to Ezra. He talks slowly, with intent. “Give me London, and I’ll give you Naomi. A simple trade. This doesn’t need to get ugly, Ezra.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting and wishing Ezra would make the trade .
It’s a good one.
I can guess his response and imagine the snarled look he always gives. Naomi keeps her eyes on Ezra the whole time, and to my surprise, Ezra laughs.
“You would think I’d want Naomi back,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, his tone betraying his mask of indifference. “Keep her. Do what you fucking want with her. She’s dead to me.”
“Ezra, don’t say that,” Naomi cries. “I was coming back to you. Micah took me before I could get back. I almost died.”
Liar. She’s so good at it, and Ezra falls for it every time. He softens at her voice—she’s already piercing his walls.
“Don’t fall for it,” I whisper, though I truly don’t know why. My hatred for this girl is strong right now. I don’t want her with Ezra because she deserves to rot alone.
Micah narrows his eyes. “Really?” he says carefully, drawing it out. Both boys assess each other, nearly mirroring each other’s movements in an intense, overdue stand-off.
Ezra tilts his head. “Yeah, really,” he says in a sarcastic tone. “Do you hear that, Naomi? You’re. Fucking. Dead. To. Me.”
Micah scoffs, contemplating for a moment. He’s so skilled at hiding his emotions. He grows quiet, still, and focused—the tells that make him distinctly Micah. “That’s bullshit,” he finally says and yanks her in front of him, her shirt riding up and baring the skin of her tight stomach. He twists her into an unsightly position.
Ezra doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch as Naomi whimpers and moans, her skin glistening, soft and clean.
“Micah, don’t do this,” she begs before looking at Ezra, the one she abandoned. “Ezra, please make the trade.”
Ezra merely shakes his head.
“What do you want, then, Ezra?” Micah says.
Ezra snickers as if signaling to Micah that he has won this battle. “All of your food. Every single can of whatever you have left. I want all of it. And if you don’t give it to me, I’ll hurt London. I don’t want to, but I will if I have to. ”
Ezra pulls me in and grabs my hand. I scream out in pain and almost drop to my knees, but Ezra keeps me up and firm within his control.
Micah lurches for me, but Ezra digs in the skate of his spear, making Micah falter.
“Don’t come any closer, man. Don’t make me hurt this girl more than I already have,” Ezra shrieks. “Just give me the fucking food, and you can have her. You can have both of them.”
Micah’s gaze descends to Naomi, who is now trembling. His eyes shift down to her taut, exposed stomach. He slowly lifts her shirt, revealing the bra she is wearing underneath. His fingertips glide over her smooth skin, causing my toes to curl. He glances up at us, raising an eyebrow, and a wicked grin spreads across his face. “You sure about that? Look at her, buddy. I even cleaned her up for you.”
This elicits a reaction. Ezra loosens his hold on me, and I swear, I feel his cock harden along my back because I am pressed so deep against him.
I can hardly blame him. Her skin is smooth and ivory, and her body is much fuller than mine at the moment. Her breasts peek out, showing off their perkiness. The image of her on top of Micah makes the pit in my stomach explode.
He’s mine.
“Take the trade, Ezra,” I tell him, still hanging from his arms. “I’ll make sure Micah gives you the food. But you can’t ever trust her again.”
Micah’s fingers are still on Naomi, and I’m not even sure he’s aware of it. Those fingers that have explored every inch of my body are now touching her. He’s so comfortable caressing her skin, and it almost looks like she’s enjoying it.
Do I even want to go back to him?
A bang interrupts that thought, and all four of us direct our attention outside. There’s a hint of movement in the corner of my eye, and the back door swings open.
Fuck. It better not be Nigel. He is the last person who needs to attend this party.
“I think you better put her down, man,” a voice says from outside .
Not Nigel…
A deeper, sweeter voice. Caring. Friendly.
I blow out a breath as James steps through the door near us at the back of the broken plane.
He shakes his head. “You’re all seriously fucked up. Hand her over, man. Whatever is going on here is over.”
“What the fuck are you going to do about it?” Ezra fights back, his voice coming out desperate.
Another voice cuts in, and another shadow enters from the dark mist. Jade follows James inside the airplane, gripping a pointy wooden spear. I can hardly believe my eyes…
Why are they here?
James steps into a protective stance in front of Jade. “It’s what we’re both going to do about it,” she says calmly. “You’re outnumbered, Ezra, and we can take you.” Her eyes flash to me, her face sunken in, but she otherwise looks healthy, and for that, I’m eternally grateful.
She continues, “So fucking drop her, Ezra. Or Thomas might have something to say about it, too.” Another physical response from Ezra. This time, his body shudders. The look in Jade’s eyes is nothing short of terrifying. She runs her eyes over me, and even in the dark, I can tell she has changed. No hint of kindness lingers in those hard eyes.
I glance over at Micah, and he’s already gone, vanished.
And he took Naomi with him.
He’s so fast. Always so fucking smooth when he disappears like he’s so good at doing, leaving scars in his wake.
Ezra hardens his grip on me. “Get back and give me space. I’ll let her go, but get the fuck away from me.”
James lifts his arms. “Alright. Okay, man. Just let her go.”
“I’m sorry, London,” he whispers, then drops me like a lead balloon. I fall with a thud , and before I can take a proper breath, Ezra flees into the night.