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For once, Logan’s face is contorted in pain. I always thought his privileged arrogance was why I never liked him. But now I see what it really is that’s always irked me: the long, dark hair, the muscular build, the mischievous grin. He’s just like Eric. Another man who thinks he can do whatever he wants to women and get away with it.
“I never said anything,” Cass continues. “Because I thought I loved you. But now I know I didn’t. I couldn’t have.”
“Cass…” Logan starts.
“No, Logan. You didn’t love me either. We used each other. A fake family to replace the ones we left behind. Let’s just be honest for once.”
Logan looks as if he’s been struck. For a moment, I think he may crumple to the ground. Maybe he thought he loved her afterall. But soon enough, his face contorts, shedding the emotion from seconds before. His lips roll upward, and his gaze switches from Cass to me, his eyes filled with rage. I know what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth. He’s found someone other than Cass to serve as the target of his fury.
“This is all your fault, Brooke. You and that fucking Instagram post. We were happy before you came here. This was our home. And you destroyed it. I could tell there was something off about you from the first day you got here. Always there, always watching. Turns out I was right. You were sneaking around behind our backs the entire time. Trying to ruin us.”
Logan grabs the gun back from Doug’s hand in one quick motion.
“Well, it’s about time we return the favor,” he says.
I feel my chest tighten as he raises the gun, points it directly at my heart.
I close my eyes and prepare for him to shoot.
40
CASS
The accusations fell from my mouth, each of them confirming what I’ve known was true but could never acknowledge.
Was Jacinta the first time Logan cheated, or was that just the first time I caught him? And how many other women has he hurt since we’ve been together?
But the anger I feel burning in my chest isn’t just for Logan’s lies. It’s how I’ve reacted to them. I’ve eaten them up, forcing myself to believe him, swallowing my doubts along with the pills. The same thing I did all those years ago for Eric. Brooke was right. How many lives have I ruined by failing to stand up for myself?
No more.
I watch Logan raise his arms out in front of him, his fingers firm around the gun, aimed steadfastly at Brooke. A threatening growl escapes from his lips, a sound I’ve never heard from his mouth before.
I look briefly down at my leg, the blood leaking from several deep cuts, and feel another wave of dizziness. I know what’s coming.Even if they let me live, I wouldn’t make it far in this state. And with the storm in full swing, none of the medical clinics on the island will be open.
My time is running out.
I wonder if Robin had the same realization after she drank that glass of champagne. I wonder if it’s what Lucy felt as she waited for the water to flood her lungs, or Jacinta as the rocks rushed up to meet her. Or Daniel as he felt the knife puncture his throat. So many people who didn’t have to die. Who shouldn’t have.
I’ve trusted people I shouldn’t, and in doing so, I’ve let down so many others.
But maybe there’s a way that I can fix some of this. A way that I can prevent these people—my so-called family—from taking another person’s life. A way that I can make up for letting Brooke down all those years ago.
I bend my palms flat against the muddy ground, giving me just enough support to work myself up to standing. Doug hadn’t even bothered tying my legs. Underestimating me yet again.
I conjure up my last ounce of energy, and before my mind can fully acknowledge what I’m doing, my legs are moving. I no longer feel the pain that accompanied each step before. It’s as if my body is functioning on its own.
I don’t hear the noise, the screams that come at me from all sides as the gun fires from Logan’s hands. I don’t feel the pain that I’ve prepared myself for as I throw myself in front of Brooke. Instead, I spiral toward the darkness before I can even register the bullet that slices through my chest.
41
BROOKE
I squeeze my eyes shut as I hear the gun erupt and brace for the hot pain that’s about to flood my body. But after a moment, there’s nothing apart from a terrible ringing in my ears and the distant sounds of screams. I must be in shock, I realize—my body’s method of protecting me from Logan’s bullet.
The first thing I see when I lift my eyelids is the crumpled mass in front of me, dark liquid pooling around her. The blond hair, the skinny legs.
How did Cass get here? She was tied up over by the picnic table just moments before. But through the confusion, the thoughts come at me half-formed and abstract. Her untied legs. She must have run toward me when Logan raised the gun. The bullet hit her, not me.
