Teeth clattering from the intensity of the air-conditioning, Miles groaned, throwing off the blanket he'd wrapped around himself. The cold had seeped into his bones and wouldn't quit, and the more he clenched his jaw, the more the migraine that had developed across his forehead grew worse.

Did they have medicine in this place?

No, they'd want me to work out my migraine by hitting someone, right?

He got to his feet and stomped over to the door, exiting out into the overheated afternoon. The blast of warmth caressed his cheeks and instantly soothed his frozen insides, prompting him to unleash the tiniest of smiles.

He absorbed a deep breath, filling his nostrils with the forest fresh scent, begging it to replace Kera's powdery flower aroma he hadn't been able to fully erase. That softness, that comforting smell that had imprinted into his mind after she'd snuggled in his arms, trusting him. Trusting him.

No matter what he did, no matter how he shoved the memory of her down, she kept resurfacing as if she were sitting right next to him, laughing. Or standing beside him, arms crossed as she scanned the horizon with a scowl. Whispering under her breath how all this was unfair, how she shouldn't have been there, shouldn't have been involved.

That was true—she shouldn't have been there. And Miles was slowly realizing that might have been his fault. He could have stopped her before she trespassed into the forest, told her to mind her own business, told her to save herself. He never should have invited her to come along. But how could he have guessed traversing some invisible line into a dark wood might have spelled out his doom? Their doom? He was too busy investigating, too busy following Jessa without question, uncaring of the trouble it'd get him in. Hadn't he told Kera he'd look out for her, ensure she'd get home? Now, he wasn't sure she ever would.

"I'm an idiot," he said under his breath, as he marched over to the iron bench overlooking the bay. The one where Patrek had been seated earlier, but it was now deserted, calling Miles over to it.

He sat, the hot, sunlit surface scorching his ass. He hissed, but settled on the bench and stared down at the view. Sparkling waters—poisoned waters. A heavenly cove of tranquility—of captivity. The postcard image of a tropical island, but it was all fake. Behind that image was the truth: a horde of captors seeking to fuck up young adults like him for absolutely no reason.

He knew he'd done the right thing by scaring Kera, by dropping their alliance to protect himself and the others, and to some extent, her. And yet he'd been cruel, he remembered. His words sliced through her; he'd seen the pain in her face, the discomfort in her posture, shrugging forward in shame. Sure, she'd said wicked things, too; but all of it was warranted, all of it was true. Miles wouldn't deny that, and he could no longer deny that he might have acted too hastily.

He should have approached things differently, instead of impulsively throwing Kera in the face of danger. Yes, her behavior was dangerous, but why had he selfishly shoved her off instead of actually helping her? Guiding her? Explaining to her what his plan was, what he'd been working on in silence since he'd found out he was stuck on the island? There would have been a way to tell her without drawing attention. The ruler couldn't be hovering over them at all times, could she?

He hadn't trusted Kera, not the way she'd trusted him. And now she was on her own and he couldn't help her, because he was being watched, and she was public enemy number one. If he tried to contact her, to reach her, to offer any kind of assistance, the ruler would know. What would the ruler do with him if he were communicating with the person who'd spread the most discord in their group, the one who was capable of waking doubt in all of them?

Miles pictured a knife slicing across his throat, or a sharpened log lodging into his belly and releasing his guts to the ground. He pictured himself being pushed through the barrier and chopped into pieces, like Misty was.

He didn't want to die. What he'd done, he'd done for his own safety. Selfish, yes, but important, because he felt, deep down, that he was the only one able to get them all out of this horrific predicament. Jessa was constantly possessed, Vick had his head up her ass, Taryn and Lorenzo were Jessa's minions. The others... were dead. Kera was the one with her eyes opened the widest, and Patrek was the quiet one who didn't seem too sure what to think, what to do. So Miles sensed that it all fell to him—to investigate, to prod, to solve this mystery and get the hell off the island as soon as possible.

"You don't look so good," came a voice behind Miles, causing him to swirl around, eyes narrowed. It was only Patrek—arms raised in surrender and eyebrows lurching up. "Hey, sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay?"

Miles loosened up and returned to the view of the bay. "It's fine. I guess I'm a bit too on edge right now."

"I feel that." Patrek walked around the bench then stood before it, gesturing at it. "Mind if I join you?"

Miles shook his head. "I'm not in a talkative mood, though, I'll warn you."

"Silence doesn't bother me," said Patrek, settling in beside Miles, leaving a reasonable distance between them. As if saving a spot for Kera.

He'd tugged his blond hair into a low bun, and a sheet of sweat spread across his forehead. He'd removed his leather jacket, and perspiration stains showed near his underarms and the lower portion of his gray shirt. Had he been running? Working out? Patrek definitely wasn't a small dude, in terms of height; but he was on the scrawnier side in terms of actual size. So was he preparing for when violence struck, for when the others would inevitably grow volatile and look for someone to fight?

"Are you okay?" Miles turned to Patrek, assessing him. "I'm cool with silence, but if you have something you want to talk about, I'm a good listener."

Patrek let out a disheartened chuckle. "Am I okay?" He glanced down at his worn-out tennis shoes. "Pick another question, man. The answer to that one is obvious."

Miles scoffed, then folded his arms over his chest as he visualized the waters below, scintillating like diamonds, beckoning innocent bystanders to plunge in and be devoured by the toxicity.

"I get that you don't want to talk, but..." Patrek leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, and lowered his voice. "But I need to know what happened with Kera. What really happened."

"Huh?" Miles dropped his arms to his sides. "What do you mean what really happened? She's gone, dude, that's all you need to know."

At least until I'm sure I can trust you.

Patrek peered left and right, wary. "What's going on? I just..." He sighed. "I saw you two, how you interacted, how close you were getting before that blackout episode. And then you and her... well, you remained close despite what happened. I have a hard time believing you ditched her because she was weak, because she wasn't conforming to the rules. There's more to the story."

There was a sincerity in Patrek's eyes that appealed to Miles' soul, that made him want to trust that Patrek wouldn't repeat any information to anyone else. And yet... Miles had trouble thinking anyone in this group was fully trustworthy. They'd all been troublemakers, or so Mr. Reynolds had claimed. Patrek had a past of drug abuse, for sure, but did that mean he couldn't be trusted? Or did it mean he was sly, and would fool Miles into talking, and then go tattle on him, revealing everything he was working for?

Kera had trusted him, or so Miles thought. She'd been kind to him, especially compared to the others in their band of miscreants.

Miles gulped. "Look, man, I want to tell you, but I... I can't be positive whose side you're on."

Patrek squinted at him, then switched his gaze to the horizon. "There are no sides in this shit. You're either playing the gods' game and accepting your fate, or... you're not." He sucked in his lips, then released them with a puckering sound. "I'm in the latter, and I dunno... I feel like you're smart enough to be in that category, too. And Kera, also, am I right?"

Miles winced. "Kera wanted to get out, at any cost. She wanted all of us out, but needed to get herself out first, to find help, answers. She found out a lot, a lot, and sort of got Ms. Moreno killed for it."

"Kera killed Ms. Moreno?" Patrek's voice raised, but he covered his mouth, realizing he'd been too loud. How closely was the ruler watching, listening? Was she there, floating over them, or had she followed the others, more interested in the entertainment they might provide?

"No." Miles released a heavy breath. "But she got her killed by asking too many questions and putting Ms. Moreno in a tight spot. She was investigating, posing as a professor... and was discovered."

Patrek frowned. "How did she die?" Miles wagged his finger, but Patrek grabbed it. "Tell me, please. She was... she was a great person, the only professor I ever had who understood me, accepted me. And now you notify me she might have been an option to save us, but she's dead. I need to know."

Miles cringed at the acid bubbling up in his mouth as he recalled Ms. Moreno's gruesome death. "Nailed to a tree. Stabbed by some kind of point vine-like thing. It was... brutal."

Patrek sniffled, but nodded, acknowledging the vague description. "You were there? You didn't stop it from happening?"

"Stop a magical vine from pinning her to a tree? No, I don't think I could have done anything. In any case, I was following Kera, eavesdropping from a distance." Miles set a tentative hand on Patrek's arm. "Even if I'd been the fastest runner on the planet, I wouldn't have gotten there in time to stop the spiky vine from killing Ms. Moreno. She... she knew the risks she took in answering Kera's calls for help, and she took them anyway. I don't think she died in vain."

"But you left Kera behind after that." Patrek looked down at where Miles was touching him, as if considering whether to remove his hand. "Why?"

Miles bit his lower lip, then let it go. "Because I was scared. She said some shitty stuff about me, and I used those comments as an excuse, to make me ditching her seem plausible. Because I was worried what she was doing would affect us all. Her prodding, her rebellion... she was going to get herself slaughtered, and eventually us, too. I feel like an asshole for it, for sure, but... we have to play by the rules, and she wasn't. But..."

Patrek slipped from Miles' grasp, but instead placed his own hand on Miles'. "You left her to save her? To save us?"

Miles didn't flinch at the contact. "But now I figured out that I was too harsh, too hasty. Now she's on her own, and I'm worried about her." His shoulders drooped. He tipped slightly to the side, and he approached his mouth to Patrek's ear. "She wouldn't even pretend to play by the rules, if anything, so we could work on getting out of here, but on the down-low, you know? Hush-hush, so that damn ruler and those gods wouldn't see what we were up to."

Though he jerked to the side at first, surprised by Miles whispering into his ear, Patrek remained attentive, waiting. "She wouldn't?"

"That's what I wanted, what I want to do, but she was ready to scream at the skies for help." Miles pulled away and scrubbed his face. "Too much attention, too dangerous. She wouldn't listen to me." It was only a half-truth. Miles hadn't clued her in on what he was doing, as they'd been standing in an area surrounded by monsters who'd prey on them both if Miles divulged anything of his true nature, his true thoughts.

"So you... you're waiting to rebel?" Patrek barely mouthed the words, his voice grating his throat, impossible to hear.

Miles heard him. He hesitated, but nodded.

Fuck it, I've already said too much. If he's going to out me, then that's on me for being too trusting.

Patrek froze, eyes closed, absorbing the information. What would he do with it? Take it to his grave, pretend like he hadn't found out about it? Or jump up and yell that Miles was a threat, that he was doubting, that he planned to spread panic amongst those in the group?

Or better yet—would Patrek agree?

He released the tension in his spine and curled forward, face pressing against his thighs. "Ugh," was all he said, and he remained in that position for long enough that Miles started to question what was going on.

Did he need to run, to hide? Lock himself in his cabin? Was Patrek about to denounce him, to fuck up all the planning Miles had been doing from the start of their captivity?

Patrek pushed himself up, jamming his back against the iron bench. "Okay." He inhaled, exhaled, then gazed out at the bay, his expression as neutral as Miles had ever seen it. "Okay, whatever it is you're doing, I'm in."

"Huh?" Miles should have been looking askance, too, not attempting to establish eye-contact, not drawing attention on their conversation. No one knew where the ruler was, how she eavesdropped, what she chose to eavesdrop on. If she was there, hovering above them at that very instant, this conversation would be flagged and reported to the gods. The monsters would come and tear out Miles' and Patrek's throats in the dead of the night.

"This place is fucked, man," said Patrek in a muted tone. Slow, careful words, escaping his mouth so quietly Miles had to concentrate to hear them. "It sounded fun at first, yeah, with all the freedoms and stuff, but now... nah, it's not right at all. I've been fighting my addiction for a while, and then they send me here with all this temptation..."

"Why did you follow Jessa, then?" Miles scratched at his chin, peeking down at the dirt and grass mix on the ground. "When she initially formed her band of friends to accompany her past the forest limits, why did you go?"

"Curiosity," Patrek snorted, "and yeah, curiosity definitely killed the cat, didn't it? I regret it. She was a pushover, she took advantage of me. Now... well, I'm screwed, aren't I? Aren't we all?"

Miles' hands balled into fists. "Not if I can help it. I fucked up with Kera, but I will not fuck up again. I'm going to do this right." His voice was so low it neared a growl, and he hoped Patrek wouldn't shy away from him and his repressed rage.

"Good. Then I'm in." Patrek angled down to pick up a twig from the ground. He held it up, analyzing it, swishing it side to side as if it were a sword. "I feel watched all the time, never safe, never quite alone. And with all the shit Taryn said to me... I tell you, I was less oppressed out in the regular world. Instead, I'm trapped here with transphobia and bloodthirsty, lustful jerks. I want out." He dropped the twig in Miles' lap and stood up. "Whatever you're doing, like I said, I'm in. But let's be careful about it. I don't want to die."