23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Micah
N igel launches himself into the thick trees right as the threat leaves my lips. The motherfucker is as quick as he is slimy, but he got away from me last time. I won’t let him get away from me twice. Secretly, I’m happy he ran because now I get to hunt, and that is much more fun.
London is a mess on the ground, and I have to make a split decision on either chasing Nigel down or tending to London. I sweep my gaze over to Ezra in a blind panic. “Protect her, please. And don’t follow me. I need to end this.”
London and I make eye contact as I say the last part, and her face contorts. “Do you understand, London? Stay the fuck here. He will kill you if he has the chance, baby. I have to finish this.” I vanish before she can reply, leaving her with maybe the worst bodyguard ever, but he’s the only person I’ve got at the moment. Although I hate leaving London again, this is my chance to finally deal with Nigel.
My nails dig into my palms as I step into the woods where he disappeared a mere ten seconds before, keeping my eyes open and my pace steady. A feeling I can only describe as lightning courses through my blood. The air is so still, and I focus on the sounds of the forest—the soft hum, the creaking branches. My nose twitches at the lingering smoke in the air. I become one with the forest; my senses are keen as if bolstered by my rage.
Nigel’s very adept at being quiet, I’ll give him that. But he is sorely underestimating my tracking skills. He’s not that far ahead of me. If he even so much as snaps a twig or crunches his foot on a leaf, I’ll hear him.
I stand frozen, not wanting to make the first move should he lead me astray. I don’t want to resort to searching those caves for him. If he escapes there, he may be able to hide from me. Then he’ll come for London again and again, and he won’t stop until he kills her.
It’s quiet. The branches and trees are still, as if the forest is on my side, refusing to provide him cover through its natural wards…
He’s close.
“Come on out, bow tie,” I taunt, my eyes finding broken sticks and twigs. I see an imprint on the ground, then another.
I smile as a sense of warmth engulfs me. “Got you, you little asshole,” I mutter, walking over to a thick brush as a whirl of argyle snaps into focus. I’m amused by his pathetic attempt at holding his knife in front of him.
He swipes the knife, slicing the air, his skin a ghostly white and a sneer on his face. “Get back, Micah.”
I confidently grip my bone weapon and approach him, completely unfazed by his sharper weapon or his ability to wield it.
He swipes at me again, and this time, I catch it between the bones of the antler and effortlessly toss it out of his hands, not wanting to touch the blade that recently beheaded one of my peers.
A twinge hits my gut as he falls to his knees before me, knowing all the power is mine. I grab him by the hair and yank him up. I want to understand the texture of death—not just watch someone die but experience it with them. The sensation when life is sucked out of them.
He twists his face, glaring at me and giving me no sign he’s scared. I grin at him, and a rush of adrenaline courses through me. “You know, we’re not so different you and I, Nigel,” I tell him.
He scoffs, still acting tough. “Is that so?” he snarls, his face still radiating with supreme arrogance, even as he nears death.
My lips twitch into a smile as I forcefully slam his head to the ground. “It is so,” I growl, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “You’re not the only one on this island who has a desire to inflict pain on others. I’ve witnessed countless people die, though I haven’t caused any of those deaths. I imagine it must be quite an emotional experience. Since I’ve suppressed my emotions for most of my life, this might ignite something within me I’ve been missing.”
No response, partly because I am blocking his airway and his mouth is pressed in a pile of snow. But he can hear me. I know he can. And oddly enough, this is really the first time I’ve ever spoken to him. Even when we weren’t on this island, I never deemed him important enough to talk to. For the few short weeks I lived near him at this very lake, he was insignificant to me. Even then, my instincts were spot-on.
I start my monologue with well-prepared words already in mind. I have spent weeks envisioning this moment. “Human beings are truly fascinating,” I continue. “The depths of our capabilities, the twisted aspects that lie beneath the surface. What interests me the most is how fucking emotional we are. You see, what I have come to realize is that in the moment before death, individuals can only experience one emotion. It is a primal response to their circumstances. Yet, from what I’ve observed, that emotion is different for everyone.”
I pull out my bone weapon and stick the tip right against his neck.
“Olivia… you remember her?” I snicker. “Yeah, of course you do. She was too fucked up when she died to have any real emotion. Her head just hit the side of the window, and she choked on her own vomit.” He flinches at my words. “And Maison, my brother, my fucking twin, was happy and calm when he died because that’s who he was at his core.” I press his face further into the snow, watching his body convulse from lack of oxygen. “And right before Ezra thought I was going to kill him, he pissed himself.” I chuckle at that one. “Tell me, what did Ollie say or do? Was he alive when you cut his fucking head off?”
I turn Nigel around so I can see his face. He coughs and spits out snow, some of it hanging from his nose. He doesn’t blink; he just stares at me with idle eyes. “I want to see what emotion you have, Nigel.” I shake him so hard that his head bobbles.
He gives me nothing, just as I suspected.
“You’re a little fucking sociopath, just like London says you are.”
His lip curls, and he starts to laugh.
I tilt my head to the side. “Fuck me, humor?” I snicker. Apparently, the laughter is contagious. “That’s not what I was expecting from you, Nigel. I have to say that I’m surprised.”
With a satisfied grin, I smile back at him, relishing in the victory and the satisfaction of finally getting something out of him. I almost don’t want to ask him because I know he’s up to something, but I can’t help it. I need to know what’s so fucking funny.
“What is it?” I say through gritted teeth. “What do you want to say to me, Nigel? What are your last fucking words?”
He licks his lips, swallowing something hard in his throat. Blood maybe?
“London’s a whore… I hope you know I enjoyed every second of having my way with her. I ruined her for you, Micah. She will always be tainted by me now. My final present to you.”
My stomach tenses. Rage boils through me as I tighten my grip on him.
He laughs again. “Don’t worry. I knocked her out before I started, so she probably doesn’t remember most of it. She was so tight, though, tighter than I thought she’d be given how worn in she is.”
My fist hits his face with such force that blood spurts out of his nose. He doesn’t get to talk again because the second punch breaks his jaw. Unleashing brute force is intensely satisfying. I do it again and again and again , ignoring the shooting pain in my wrist as I connect bone to bone. Fist to face, blood oozing from his eyes from where I’m indenting his skull.
I ease off for only a moment as he wiggles beneath me. I’m not going to make this a quick death. I won’t just slit his throat or stab him. I will not make this humane…
He will die by blunt force.
I unleash on him. All of it, every dark piece of myself, and I punch him until my hands go raw.
All my hurt, anger, pain… all of it shoots through me and into him.
I rip his arm out of its socket.
“Fuck!” I scream as I break apart his bones.
I let go entirely. Somehow, his heart is still pounding in his chest as I lay my hand on it, finally ready to pierce it with my bone weapon.
“Micah, stop!”
London.
I jump to my feet and raise my head with a feral look on my face and blood on my hands. She’s standing with Ezra in front of me. With her hand tightly clutching her spear, she takes a decisive step forward, her eyes vacant, wild, and broken.
I run my hands through my hair. I didn’t want her to see me like this… so utterly fucking destroyed.
I narrow my eyes at them, my skin burning. My mind is consumed by a single, deadly purpose. “Why the fuck should I stop?” My voice is like chalk; I barely recognize it. “Especially after what he did to you, London?”
The pain on her face burrows into my soul. He might as well have killed her because what he did to her was worse.
All that pain—every bit of it—was caused by me because I couldn’t protect her. Nigel was merely a vessel—empty and devoid of purpose. My destructive touch shatters everything in its wake. And I really, really didn’t want to break her.
Now he might as well kill me.
By some miracle, Nigel is still breathing, and he manages a dark laugh. I pin him down, keeping him away from London. In his final breaths, he will still find a way to hurt her .
He twists his head and smiles at her with his bloody teeth, taking her in as she peers down at him, her hair falling in her face.
Without saying a word, she steps forward, and before I can stop her, she shoves the spear into his neck. His body convulses before it goes limp and life seeps from his eyes, though that wicked smile on his face remains intact.
I catch my breath and watch her for a heartbeat before I stumble back. The world feels rocky under my feet. She’s shaking, clutching her spear, which she throws a few feet away as if it’s made of fire.
“Holy fuck,” Ezra mumbles, staring at Nigel’s dead body. “That was messed up.”
I stumble back, suddenly desperate for as much distance as possible between us.
Scared of the creature I’ve become.
My body trembles and is uncontrollably rigid as I realize what she just had to do. Once again, I failed miserably, and because of that, she now has to carry this burden. A deep part of me wants to be angry at her for taking this away from me. A bigger part of me is furious with myself for not finishing him before she did. I should have known she would do it, that she was strong enough.
For one last moment, I take in the sight of her. My vision returns, and I assess the damage I caused. Blood is splattered everywhere—all over me and all over her. Nigel’s limp body is torn apart. His arm is broken from where I twisted it around his body and pulled it out of his socket in an unsightly way.
For the first time, I can’t find words. My body shakes even harder as I run my hands through my hair, my stomach tightening and every vein in my body pulsing.
The world is so heavy, so fucking heavy. That weight is finally too much for me to bear.
I hear voices, but I can’t register what they are saying.
“Micah, it’s over. Try to breathe.” London is the one speaking, but she keeps her distance. I’m still in a predatory stance, I realize, as she takes a tentative step toward me. Ezra holds her back, recognizing I’m not here anymore.
“London, give him a minute,” he tells her .
It was smart because if she were to have touched my back like that right now, I might have pulled her arm from its socket, too.
They both look at me, and all I can seem to do is shake my head and stare down at Nigel’s dead body—a physical manifestation of everything that pains me.
London parts her cherry lips. Those lips I spent the better part of the year kissing. Those beautiful lips I’ll probably never touch again. So innocent… until she met me. I can’t look her in the eyes, so I focus on those sexy fucking lips.
“Micah,” she whispers. “Talk to me. Look at me.”
I glance at what’s left of Nigel, then at the gnarled branches of the forest beyond.
“Micah, no,” she cries. “Stay with me. We need your help with the signal fire. Just stay with me. Please, I need you. It doesn’t matter what he did.” It kills me that she’s begging again, knowing that I’m leaving her again.
She is aware of my thoughts, which are evident from my repeated glances to the north. She approaches me, and I instinctively take a step back. I feel my chest tighten, unwilling to let her make physical contact. If she were to touch me, everything would unravel because I would refuse to let her go.
I don’t deserve to be saved; it’s better if I fade into the shadows. London deserves better than me. I need to let her go. It’s not our fucking time…
Ezra, who is standing awkwardly watching me, keeps London back. I shake my head, my eyes pleading. “Don’t fucking hurt her again. Watch over her for me, man.”
London screams, and I can’t fathom how she has the strength. “Micah, don’t fucking do this. Don’t run away again. I didn’t mean what I said yesterday… I didn’t mean it!”
There is no strength left in me as I face her. “I love you, London King. Don’t ever doubt that.” I disappear into the woods before I have a chance to change my mind.
Her screams echo through the air, slowly transforming into desperate cries, but I continue to press forward. The wind cuts through my hoodie as I pick up my pace and head toward my home. My heart breaks for doing this to her again, but I can’t give her what she needs or what she deserves.
It’s time to finally admit to myself that she was right to break up with me, even if she regrets it or didn’t mean it. She was right about my mental state, too. It’s time I come to terms with the fact that I need to focus on my own healing and finally grieve the loss of my brother.
The only problem is… I have no fucking idea how to do that.