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I lick my lips and gaze at him as heat pools inside me at his words. He knows his way to my heart.

“Who were you just talking to?” he asks, with an edge in his voice that wasn’t there earlier.

I scan the forest where I just saw Maison and draw a long blink. “No one. Nobody is here. I was just… talking. Thinking out loud.”

“Liar,” he says, and I wince. “Come on, let’s head back.”

He lets go of me, turns, and heads back to the cabin. I follow him, keeping my gaze steady on him as we make our way back. I don’t want to ruffle his feathers, and I certainly don’t want to admit to him the thoughts circling in my head. That perhaps, Maison is really here with us, or that I was calling out for him again. Micah didn’t react so well last time.

Once we arrive at the cabin, he immediately sets to work on the rabbit. Opting not to go inside right away, I settle on a blanket outside with my knees up and my chin in my hands. He cleared the snow in this spot for us. I observe him as he skillfully preps the rabbit for skinning. With each precise cut, the fur is peeled away in chunks, leaving behind a disfigured creature that bears no resemblance to the adorable, furry animal of my childhood memories. Easter will never be quite the same for me after this.

He looks at me with cold, silent eyes, as if he’s furious with me. I think it’s more than that; he’s in his head about something. Since the warmer weather arrived, Micah has been more paranoid than usual, and I don’t think it has anything to do with Maison. He constantly checks around for animal tracks or any sign of anything out of the ordinary. He won’t admit it, but he thinks the others may be alive and looking for us. He does this pacing thing where he circles without really doing anything. He’s nervous, as he should be. Because if I were the others and I were still alive, I would come looking for us, too. Although we love the warmer weather, spring brings certain realities back—like whether we are still alone here.

He shoves the spear into the hare and roasts it over the flames, cooking it, focusing precisely on his task. When he’s done and the site is clean, he adds a log to the fire and finally comes and sits next to me on the blanket, peering out into the woods again. He feeds me most of the rabbit, and I lie against him as he places small pieces in my mouth.

“London, I need to talk to you about something…” The way he says it makes my blood freeze, and I stop chewing. He must be considering venturing out, and I want to go with him when he does.

It doesn’t take long before he pulls me on top of him, and I press myself into him on instinct. Nothing is really stopping us from fucking right here; we did it the other day. I feel him grow hard as I position my hips on him. But something tells me that he doesn’t merely want to have sex. He has a look in his eyes.

“We can talk later,” I murmur, biting his bottom lip, and he momentarily returns my kiss. Micah is not exactly a talker, so I know this won’t be good.

I sit straddled over him, with my legs on either side of his torso, and he runs his hand up my back. I pull my sweats down and grind on him, giving myself a very satisfying orgasm as he grips my waist. I lean into a kiss, wondering why he’s not giving anything back to me.

Something’s very wrong.

“What’s going on, Micah?” I finally ask him, breaking the silence and pressing my lips on his face, loving how his facial hair tickles me.

He doesn’t mince his words. “I have to go explore and see what’s going on out there. You’re not coming with me.”

My body goes rigid against him. It’s as if he sensed what my reaction would be and knew how much this would upset me. He keeps me tight in his hold.

I wiggle beneath him. “No. No. No. Fuck you, Micah!” I scream at him, knowing my struggle is futile. I squeeze my knees together as if that would make any sort of impact. He planned this. He waited until he fed and fucked me and made sure I peed. I walked right into it.

I should have known.

“Calm the fuck down, London,” he grits, grabbing my hands and interlacing his fingers with mine. “I’m not going for long. I just want to see if anyone’s out there. I’ll be back later tonight.”

I squeeze his hands harder, to the point where my nails dig into his flesh. “So take me with you, then. Don’t leave me here alone.”

He shakes his head, grabbing my hands and moving them behind his back so I’m wrapped around him. “No. It’s not safe. I don’t know what’s out there or who is out there. It’s time to go and check; I need to see who’s still alive.”

He chooses now to finally give a shit.

My head becomes dizzy. A deep ache hits my belly as his hard body presses against mine, worried this is the last time I will ever feel him. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me,” I whimper. “You said we would do this together. Remember, you said that to me when Maison died.”

He frowns at me, cupping my cheek. “I need to go check on Thomas and Jade. You’re safest here until, at the very least, I know where Nigel and Ezra are.” My head falls to his chest, and tiny sobs come out of me. Because he’s already decided, and I know no amount of begging on my part will change that. He plays with my hair to try to make me feel better and attempts to explain himself. “I don’t want them finding this place, or you. It’s the same reason I refuse to tell you where we are, London. You’re mine. I don’t want to lose you, baby, and I definitely don’t want you getting hurt out there.”

I consider telling him about the footprint—that there is a tiny chance they are already here, already know exactly where we are, and have been spying on us.

“I’ll follow you,” I threaten. “If you leave me, I will get up and follow you. You know I will.” After all this time, he still thinks that given the chance, I will leave him, that I will choose to stay with them over him. That’s what this is truly about.

My body shakes as I hear a nearby nip in the woods—a growl of some sort, one of the many predators that stalk these woods.

He tweaks a brow and runs his hand over the back of his neck with a pained expression while I still sit straddled on him, half-naked, in my pleading, broken state. His eyes mirror my own madness, and it scares me to my very core.

He wraps his arms around my waist and squeezes, pulling me up with him as he rises, cradling me in his arms like a child. “No, sweetheart,” he says with a razor’s edge, “unfortunately, you won’t.”

What he doesn’t realize is that he is my only lifeline, and I don’t just mean food, water, or shelter. He is the only thing keeping me from going utterly fucking insane. He doesn’t know how close to the edge I am or about the laughter I keep hearing. I’ve kept that part of myself hidden from him. Without him, I am nothing. I don’t stand a chance out here alone.