Page 117

I stand back and blink at him—at his intensity, the sharpness in his chestnut eyes.

How did this turn so wrong so fast? They knew we were coming; they were expecting us, and we walked right into it.

Micah’s face is dark as the shadows of the tree’s shift, but his presence only serves to embolden me through the resolve I see in him.

“Please just trust me, London. Wait here, I’ll be back for you. Don’t move from this spot. Without food, we won’t make it through winter. I have to do this.”

His eyes gloss over, and he spins on his heels and is gone, moving with such precision, gliding over the snow, before I can protest any further. He leaves me truly and utterly alone again. I’m getting so bloody sick of him doing that.

“Fuck, Micah,” I whisper and hold myself in position because I have no other choice.

I trust him—with my life, my heart, and every bone in my body, but that doesn’t take away the fact I’ve never been so frightened.

More than the plane crash, even.

Every whisper of wind makes me jump, and I turn slightly to keep track of my surroundings. They are here somewhere; I can feel them, watching me through the tapestry of shadows. I know because Micah says they are, and his instincts are spot on. So what do they care about most, stalking me or protecting their food and supplies?

Because Micah’s coming for them.

A dark laugh spreads through the snowbank and chills my spine.

Of course, it would be Nigel watching me. That steel voice, the image of him crouching somewhere in his tattered argyle. He finally materializes from behind a tree, a dark hood covering most of his face. No argyle, but that bow tie is firmly in place, although slightly crooked.

He takes a menacing step forward and gives me a feline grin. “Tsk tsk, London. I knew Micah was stupid, but to leave you so wide open and vulnerable… This was almost too easy.”

I curl my lip at him, my hand firmly placed on my spear, deeply regretting not taking him out when I had the chance. “What are you going to do, rip my clothes off again, you sick fuck?” I spit at him, noticing how he too has lost too much weight.

“You fucking wish. No, we have other plans for you,” he says darkly.

Naomi emerges from where Nigel was hiding and slides up next to him. Her platinum ponytail has lost all its shine, and she looks nothing like the bikini-clad cheerleader bullying me at the beach. I almost feel bad for her, but then I remember I doubt I look much better.

I narrow my eyes at her, watching every move as she beholds me with such venom. “You look like shit, Naomi. Is Ezra not taking care of you? He’s no Micah, is he?” I’m baiting her, but I can’t help it. I’ll never forget the feeling of the three of them holding me down and hurting me.

Her eyes harden like liquid clay, and she tilts her head. “Why are you doing this?” she asks, and I’m quite taken aback by her question. “Why are you attacking our camp?”

“They are doing exactly as Maison said they’d do,” Nigel chimes in and my stomach tightens. “He told us Micah wouldn’t wait to steal from us, that he’d try right away. Ezra and I didn’t believe it, but here you are. The first aid kit wasn’t enough? You have to take everything?”

I tighten my stance, ready to pounce if they take even one step closer to me. They won’t want to risk it, and I won’t hesitate this time. “Do not, for one second, pretend that you give a shit about Maison’s well being, Nigel.”

Confusion runs over Naomi’s face as she darts her eyes between Nigel and me, not following. I glance at her, the hesitation within her. It’s only for a second, but her muscles tense. She may hate me, but I know deep down, she cares about the twins, especially Micah. “You don’t know, do you, Naomi?” I ask her. “Who Nigel really is?”

He hasn’t said anything about knowing Maison killed Olivia; he’s biding his time… smart motherfucker.

“Naomi, get her,” Nigel barks out.

Naomi is lightning fast and on me in an instant, but I’m ready for her. I smash the spear right in her face and dig it into her side before she tackles me and knocks me to the ground. Blood sprays out of her pretty nose, and I lose my grip on my weapon. “You fucking bitch,” she spits out. I fight to get away, but she’s got the advantage. She keeps her knee pressed into the back of my neck and leans down, whispering as I eat a face full of snow, “I used to train in martial arts to help me with cheer, in case you were wondering.”

She has my left arm twisted right behind my body and pain sears down my spine. But despite the pain, I can’t help but chuckle at the fact I at least marred her pretty face.

Nigel steps up, wearing dark, thick-soled boots, and I keep my eyes wide open, trying to scream, but she’s crushing my lungs. The spear is two inches away from my hand. If only I can grab it…

Nigel bends down to pick it up. “Is this what you want?” he taunts. “What are you planning to do with this?”

I don’t answer as he inspects Naomi’s blood on it. “Where is the first aid kit, London?” he asks, pretending that is what he wants, instead of the deranged revenge I know he’s truly after.

I see a drop of Naomi’s blood on the snow beside me, and I know I must have gotten her good. I can’t help the small smile that forms on my lips. “Funny girl,” he sneers and takes that menacing foot and slowly presses it over my hand, causing me to wince, especially since my shoulder is already at such an awkward angle.

He presses in further, and an audible snap shoots up my arm. My scream slices through the forest as every single bone in my hand shatters.