Some of them just hadn’t decided who to eat yet.
MACKENZIE
The next morning,sunlight streamed through the cabin window, hot against my skin. I blinked against the brightness. My hand shot out from under the covers, fumbling for my phone.
8:30 a.m.
Shit!
I scrambled, quickly remembering it was Saturday. No campers today, thank God. I hadn’t slept this late all summer.
Max was still out cold beside me, face buried in the pillow, one arm locked tight around my waist. He was snoring softly, lips parted, hair sticking up in a thousand directions. Unfairly gorgeous, even like this. Usually, he was already up by now, halfway through his workout. But last night had drained both of us. Honestly,everynight had. He couldn’t keep his hands off me.
I rolled up out of the covers and swung my feet to the floor, half-asleep. I was heading for the bathroom when a ping from Max’s phone stopped me. Three more pings chimed in quick succession.
I told myself not to look. The last time I invaded his privacy like this, I had read those text messages that continued to haunt me. But the nosy part of me, the one who’d always wanted to know, reached out and touched the screen.
He was my husband, after all, I rationalized. I needed to see who he was messaging. There was no harm in that, right?
He was still asleep, chest rising and falling, hair stuck to his forehead. I watched him for a few moments before I entered his passcode, and the phone silently unlocked.
The messages filled the screen.
UNKNOWN
Mr. McKinnon. Congratulations. You’ve been personally invited to an initiation hosted by The Alliance.
2300 South Clearing, 13:00 Sunday.
No weapons. No phones.
Good luck.
There was an image attached. A circle enclosing a jagged starburst, thirteen uneven points like cracked glass. Tiny harsh marks rimmed the circle, not letters, just scratches that felt coded.
The moment I saw it, I could almost smell it again—cigarette smoke, metal, and that bitter incense my father burned until it choked the house.
“I drew you a picture, Kenz,” my father had said once, his voice soft. “This is our emblem. The star is our legacy. Keep it close.” He’d press the paper into my little hands so hard the edges bit into my palms.
I clamped my hand over my mouth because the panic threatened to spill out loud. How did Max have this? What was this?
I yanked on shorts, turning off the shower faucet. I was barely a few feet out when the cabin door creaked open, and Max stepped out barefoot, tugging a white t-shirt over his head. His hair was wild, his eyes half-closed, until he saw me. I must’ve looked devastated because he was next to me in one heartbeat.
“What’s wrong? Why did you run out so fast? You woke me up,” he said, rough, his voice still layered with sleep.
My knees threatened to buckle just by looking at him. He knew something. He was part of something.
His hands were soft and steady as he cupped mine.
“Are you okay? Trouble, talk to me.”
I nodded too quickly. “Yeah… I…” I started hyperventilating.
“No, actually, I’m not okay. I’m not okay, Max,” I cried, the words ripping out of me.
He didn’t hesitate. His arms closed around me, crushing me to his chest. He glanced over my head, scanning the trees, his jaw set. Then, in a low, clipped tone, he said, “Come on.”
I followed him deep into the woods. He didn’t stop until we were swallowed by shadows, far from the others. The air felt wrong here. It was too still, like the trees were holding their breath to listen. Every rustle of leaves sounded sharp, close, like something was circling just beyond the trunks.
