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Pretty Little Island

Page 33

by Rhea Ryan

“Everyone better learn how to trap and skin a rabbit then,” Micah says to no one in particular, “because I’m not wasting this fucking food yet.”

Ezra jumps up and gets in Micah’s face, and this time, Maison doesn’t stop him. “I’m hungry, Micah. Last I checked, you don’t own anything, and you don’t tell me what to do.”

Micah flexes his jaw and stands just a little taller, muscles rippling over every inch of his body. I cower down and watch, far enough away from the two giant hockey players. Tension is coiled up in Micah’s body to the point it looks like he’s about to burst, but the hatred… the hatred is coming from Ezra.

A cold chill runs through me, watching the two of them, knowing the things I know about their past.

Micah doesn’t have to move, he doesn’t even flinch because Thomas stands right in front of him. Thomas is a good inch taller and fifty pounds bigger than them both. “Back off, Ezra. What are you going to do? Hit him?”

Ezra’s angular face remains fierce, but he says nothing. The whole group is silent—watching, waiting while the two alphas battle it out for their little slice of power. One of which has a massive bodyguard with blind loyalty to him, while the other has his enemy’s twin standing behind him. None of it is sensible to me.

Naomi steps forward. “You guys, cut it out. Quit fighting with each other. It won’t solve anything right now.”

The first words of intelligence I’ve heard from her.

Ezra shoots her a look, his face softening, his feelings for her clearly etched on his face. He looks at Maison. “I’m already sick of his shit. Keep Micah in check, Maison.”

Naomi hesitates for a moment, looking at Micah before she grabs Ezra’s arm, her fingers twirling around his bicep. “Come on Ezra, let’s go talk.”

Ezra smirks at Micah while Naomi leads him into the woods. “Maybe next time your bodyguard won’t be here to save you,” he spits back at him.

If Micah cares or feels at all threatened, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he ignores them and walks over to the food container, grabbing two more apples along with a couple bags of pretzels we salvaged from the plane.

He hands them to Maison. “Ration this because it’s all you get. Walk exactly two hours one way and two hours back. If I were you, I’d head due west, and make sure you leave a trail,” Micah says to Maison as if I’m invisible. “Your primary goal is to find fresh water.”

Maison’s throat bobs and he stares at his brother. “Take it down a notch, Micah. Do your breathing exercises and go for a walk.”

Maison’s challenging him, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him do that—except for when he intercepted Micah’s bullying of me on the airplane. Challenging him or… calming him. Micah’s fingers are clenched the same way they were when he cornered me.

Blind rage.

Micah nods. “Yeah, man. I know.” For a moment, he looks at me, as if seeking my reaction to his outburst.

Since I packed horribly for Alaska, I root through the luggage we salvaged from the wreckage. I find a better pair of shoes and some leggings, and we pack one blanket each, sweaters, and some food.

Jade comes to my side. I’ve barely spoken to her or anyone since we landed. Her eyes are red and bloodshot, and her face is sunken and gray—not her usual glow—but still, she seems better. At least she’s stopped crying.

She wraps her arms around me. “Be careful out there, okay?” I slide my hand around her, relieved I have at least one friend here that seems to care. I’m not sure what Maison’s motivations are yet.

I sweep the group to see if I can find Nigel. He’s hidden among the trees, looking out at everyone. I jerk my head in his direction. “Is he going to be okay? He’s not said much.”

A dark hint splashes in her eyes, and her face tightens with worry. “He’ll be okay, I think. He just seems to shut down sometimes. I’m staying with him, trying to get him to talk more.”

We’re all dealing with this the best we can, and I’m keeping with my usual MO to run away. Nigel is hiding in the shadows of the trees as Jade rejoins the group, and I catch his gaze. The dark look in his eye is worse than anyone else’s here.

I keep focused on the horizon, beyond the mist, and the thick layer of broken trees and dead foliage. I imagine what is out there as I center my attention on a tiny green plant peeking through some flat, gray-yellow-speckled rocks.

Life—an essence of it.

I’m still alive.

I feel a heavy presence behind me, and I turn to face them. Both twins look down on me after they finish discussing our plans. I don’t know who is who—

“Are you ready for this?” Maison asks, stepping forward. His face still holds his normally calm demeanor.

A mix of excitement and fear ripples through me as I look eastward. “I’m ready, but I think we should go that way.” I point in the opposite direction from where Micah suggested.

Micah narrows his brows. “Why do you think that?”