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“What the fuck did you do to him?” I cry out and try to run to Thomas.

Maison’s on me in an instant, holding my arms back. “Baby, please calm down.”

I try to wiggle out of his grip, but it’s pointless. He’s not letting me move. Maison is obviously siding with Ezra on this.

Ezra shoots his snarled look to me, then back to Micah, who’s gripping his bone weapon so hard, I’m surprised his hands aren’t bleeding. Ezra fails to recognize how good Micah is with that thing, or how sharp it is. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of Micah wielding it, especially wielding it with fury.

Ezra’s voice is unhinged, centering his attention on Micah, who’s staring at him with a deadly calm. “Thomas took food, Micah. Nigel caught him eating two cans of beans. That’s three cans now that have been stolen from the rest of us. We didn’t think you’d do anything about it, so we decided as a group on a punishment to teach everyone that stealing will no longer be tolerated.” He points at Micah, and I realize Ezra’s holding a bloody knife in his hands. The big one—the only other knife not in Micah’s control—the one that could sever a leg.

“What punishment?” James asks, stepping forward and glaring at his two friends standing next to Ezra. I’m relieved to know at least James wasn’t part of this—which means Micah has at least one ally in the group.

Thomas moans from the ground, his voice catching an octave through the pain he’s clearly in. “They tried to cut my hand off,” he wails in agony. They obviously beat the shit out of him too, before they cut him—or whatever they did to him.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, trying to wiggle out of Maison’s arms to go to him. His hold on me only tightens. “This isn’t a punishment, this is brutality,” I say to whoever will listen.

But no one does.

It breaks my heart seeing him like that—it’s how I was when they did that to me, and they got away with it. Thomas, of all people, doesn’t deserve it. They are doing it to get to Micah.

Micah steps forward. “Get the fuck out of my way, Ezra. I will not hesitate to fuck you up if you don’t.” Micah’s eyes show no fear, despite being severely outnumbered and facing a larger knife from Ezra. “Or you, or you.” Micah points his bone weapon at Nathan and Ollie, who both flinch a little. Micah tilts his head, making his neck crack once again. I wonder if it’s just from the rock I hurled at him earlier, but it has the desired effect of making him look psycho.

Everyone is unraveling; we’re nothing but hungry, angry, irrational teenagers about to tear each other apart over beans. Food I hated eating growing up, but Heinz beans are more valuable than gold on this pretty little island.

A flash of anger sweeps out of Ezra’s eyes, and he swings at him, connecting his fist right in his mouth so hard, Micah’s head whips to the side and blood spurts out of his nose. I cry out and keel over, as if I got punched in the gut, too. And Micah just takes it, not even fighting back.

“What are you doing?” I scream, looking at Maison. “Why aren’t you doing anything?”

He squeezes my arm. “We have to let this play out, babe; it’s been brewing for a couple of weeks. This is Micah’s fight. He has to win if he wants to stay in charge.”

Barbaric. This island is making us savage.

Naomi still holds Jade in a chokehold, but even she can’t watch this. Although, I’m sure if Micah wanted her back, she’d drop Ezra like a dirty hat. Serena and James stand off to the side, unsure of what to do, either, with James not being in on the inner circle of whatever group decisions were just made.

“This is wrong, so fucking wrong,” I sob, and I can’t take my eyes off Micah, his body rigid. “Maison, do something.”

“I can’t, baby; otherwise, they will turn on us.”

“He’s your brother, Maison.”

He tenses behind me, the truth of those words hopefully hitting him.

Ezra laughs, circling Micah, who is silent with an electric current surrounding him. Thomas is down, barely coherent now, and not there to back him up as he usually is. I have no idea how badly they hurt him, but from the looks of it, they made their point in spades, and Micah is truly on his own.

“You can’t take us all, Micah,” Ezra taunts. This seems to give Nathan and Ollie a bit more confidence as they both stand straighter.

Nigel sits back, watching… smiling.

Micah jerks his head to Thomas, then at me in Maison’s arms, planning… assessing. “We’ll leave,” he finally says, his jaw tight. “Let Thomas go, and we’ll walk away, and we won’t come back.”

No. No. No. I don’t want him to go.

Nathan and Ollie look at James, who shakes his head, signaling them not to interfere while Ezra considers. James looks pissed, his jaw tensing from the control he’s losing, too. At no point before have the younger guys gotten involved in the seniors’ fucked-up dynamics.

Ezra steps aside. “Fine, get out of here. But you’re not getting any supplies; you already have enough. We know about your secret camp, and all the shit you have hidden.” He kicks Thomas’s face, making me cringe. “This fucker already ate two cans of food, so he’s had enough. If you try to take more, it will be a problem.”

Nigel steps forward, slicing me a look. “And your bitch girlfriend already had her fair share, too, so I’d say you had enough.”

Maison’s reaction to Nigel makes me cringe. Referring to me as Micah’s girlfriend, it was purposeful, no doubt, and Maison tightens his hold on me.