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James shrugs and kneels to warm his hands. “He’s made his bed. He thinks he’s better off with them than with us, which was his choice. Look, man, our aim is to survive and eat. We don’t want violence. I have no personal issue with any of you, and I don’t want to get involved in this shit you have going on.”
Micah lifts his chin. “I’m afraid that’s unavoidable. If you think you can go sweet talk Ezra into giving you anything, then have at it, but I highly doubt they are going to just give up their food.”
“But they are planning to attack us,” Jade says, sitting and curling her knees beside me. “What do we do about that? They are going to come for the first aid kit. They will want that more than anything. Maybe we should just go hide somewhere else. This island is big. They won’t find us.”
“I don’t hide,” Micah scoffs, “and I already ran once. I’m not doing it again. Ezra can barely hunt to save his life, and Nigel is useless at everything. Maison will be their only life source for food. The medical kit is important, but when it’s subfreezing temperatures, it’s not what will keep them alive.”
My eyes find his. “So what do you propose we do, Micah?”
Micah looks up at the sun, positioned halfway through the sky, and the snow crystals in the air that gleam from it. “We leave now. We attack before they do. With the snow, they won’t be expecting us. We get in, steal what we can, and we leave. If they try to stop me, I’ll hurt them, and without a fucking bandage to patch up their wounds, I doubt they will want that.”
I grab my spear and rise, a sharp ache pulsing at my chest. “And what about Maison? What if he tries to stop you?” I snip at him. “Are you going to hurt him, too? We are just high school kids, Micah. This isn’t war.” I stomp toward the river, whipping one more glare at him on my way.
A storm is coming, a worse storm than anything this island can give us. I push down the sensation that this may be one of the last days on this island that every one of our original survivors will remain breathing. My gut is telling me this won’t end well for any of us, but what choice do we have?
Once I get to the river, I walk downstream and crouch, trying to catch my breath. I’m tired… Micah wants me to go into battle, but I am exhausted. And worse, a battle against someone I love.
His heavy presence looms behind me before he wraps his arms around my waist, pressing his fingers into my stomach. Just like the first time he ever touched me, my eyes close and tears sting against them. I didn’t think I had the energy to cry anymore, but I was wrong.
“He made his choice, London,” he whispers, grazing my cheek. “We need the food to survive the winter. You don’t have to stay with me. Now’s your chance to go back to him if that’s what you want to do, no questions asked. But make no mistake, I’m getting my fair share of the food.”
I whip around and jab the spear into his belly. “And what if I choose Maison? Will you hurt me, too?” I croon at him.
He shoots his eyebrows up, a smile forming on his lips as his eyes graze down to the spear digging into him. One small jab or motion from me and I’d have him.
He bites his bottom lip and keeps his eyes blazed into me, even though I’m digging the tip into his chiseled abs. I wonder how hard he will let me poke him with it before he finally admits it hurts him. “I would never fucking hurt you, London,” he says eventually.
I tilt my head. “But you don’t care if I stay or go?”
He has no response, just that menacing stare that makes me want to punch him, then fuck him silly.
I jerk my chin, but don’t relent on my spear. “Take James with you. Why does it have to be me?”
He dips his chin, finally swatting the spear away. “Because right now, I don’t trust anyone on the island except for you. It has to be you. You’re the only one I want by my side,” he says. “And we aren’t high school kids anymore, London. High school kids don’t cut each other up in the woods. We stopped being high school kids the moment that plane crashed. The sooner you realize this island is hard, and you have to do shitty things to stay alive, the better chance you won’t be dead by January.”
I aim the spear right at his pretty face. “You are infuriating, Micah.”
He bites his lip, looking up and down the length of my body like he wants to rip me apart. “Yeah, well, so are you, sweetheart.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Do you know the plan?” Micah asks, resting his chin on my shoulder as we crouch a few feet away from the enemy camp. I suppress an eye roll. We’ve only gone over it a thousand times on the brutally cold walk over here.
Quick in, quick out. Just like last time.
“Yes,” I whisper and blow a breath into my palms, but worry tugs on my insides.
Cold crystals hang in the air, and despite the many layers I have on, my bones still ache from the freeze. Micah says this isn’t even the beginning of how cold it will get here and that I have to get used to it, but I’m not sure I can… it’s unrelenting.
Snow encrusts the entire lake as it begins its seasonal deep freeze. The forest is enveloped in white silence. It took us forever to walk here, and I can’t feel anything beneath my calve muscles as my legs are completely covered in snow. The sun is about to set. No matter what happens, we will have to find our way back in the dark.
With one hand, Micah takes my hands and kisses the back of my head. I close my eyes, steadying a shaking breath. “You got this, London,” he whispers, and I resist the temptation to turn around and kiss him. Instead, I lean my head against his chest and focus on his heartbeat while I try to contain my own.
It’s then I see the first of the shelters to the left of us. I almost didn’t notice them, completely hidden and buried in plain sight. The shelter I shared with Maison has a coil of smoke rising from the ash in the small fire pit in front of it.
“This is your last chance,” Micah says, as if reading my mind. “I’ll drop you off if you want to stay.”
I reach my hand to grasp his leg, avoiding the knife in his other hand, and squeeze it. It’s exactly what I need at this moment. “I’m not leaving you, Micah,” I whisper, and I mean it.
