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This is strange. Like time travel. Kai suddenly seems so far away that I want to cry. More than anything, I want to punch someone, though I’ve never punched anyone before.
The one person who ties it all together is Archer Crone. I know he is playing games, messing with Kai, as if he hasn’t done enough damage already.
I wonder what made twenty-one people abandon all this luxury two years ago for living in the wild. But knowing how Archer messes with people, it makes sense now.
I just need to wait for Kai or find a way to get to him. Together, we can figure things out. We will get off this island and away from Archer.
I need Kai.
The memory of his touch, his kind gaze full of care, his words, “You are mine,” tug at my heart, making me close my eyes and hold back tears. I feel like I haven’t seen him in years. And that’s what makes me hate all this luxury—it makes the images of the beach and Kai holding me in his arms blur, like some distant memory, like something out of the past.
Kai is not the past. He is my future. The only future I want.
A sharp knock snaps my head in the direction of the door.
“Yeah?” Katura says loudly, amused. To her, everything is entertaining.
A girl about our age in a blue uniform dress walks in with a tray. Another one follows with a large package in her hands. They smile politely and set everything they brought on the coffee table.
“Any requests?” one of them asks.
Her gaze is emotionless. Staff—they are here for a regular job, and for this brief moment that Katura glances at me in surprise, I feel like time rewound to before the Change.
Katura shakes her head and lets them leave.
This is all a trap like when they feed animals before some strange experiment. Or a slaughter.
I don’t trust it.
But Katura seems to have a different opinion as she picks up the stainless steel dome lid off one of the plates.
“Damn.”
She inhales the smell that wafts from the plate of food and spreads across the room, then picks up a piece of steak, and drops the lid back. Tearing into the meat between her fingers, she walks to a door on the opposite side of the room and opens it. An amused whistle follows.
“Well, well. Looks futuristic.” Her voice is muffled as she peeks inside. “The light comes on automatically. A shower head the size of a dinner plate, a steam room, a floor-to-ceiling mirror.”
I don’t care. I get angrier by the minute. We were kidnaped, dragged here against our will, and Katura acts like we were just invited into a royal palace.
I am starving but want to throw up at the thought of food. I am exhausted but feel guilty about the idea of sleeping.
Katura returns to the table and peeks inside the package brought by one of the maids. Still chewing on the steak, she snorts.
“Spare clothes. What do you know—Mr. Chancellor is thoughtful.”
Mr. Chancellor is a predator, I think grimly. “We need to do something.”
Katura looks at me almost in surprise. “Like what, babe?”
“Go back to the Eastside.”
Katura cocks her head like I just said the stupidest thing ever.
“Number one.” She keeps chewing, throwing the last bite of the steak in her mouth, then picks up the dome lid and fishes out a piece of asparagus. “It’s a six-hour hike across the Divide, and you won’t get anywhere, because the security will get you.”
She strolls toward the window, pulls back a translucent curtain, and presses her forehead to the glass.
It’s bright outside with all the resort lights, and you can see the steep slope, scattered with palm trees and stairs and cabanas and huts. This is just like the fancy stories they told back on the mainland about Zion. A giant Bimini resort but with top-notch security and a whole bunch of rich people.
