Gage is waiting on the makeshift bed when she enters the room she’s been sleeping in. The small lantern in the corner barely lights his features. His shoulders are hunched, his hands clasped together before him, and when he looks up, his face is downcast. There are a number of reasons why he would look this way, but the worst possible thing comes to mind first.Someone is dead.

Refusing to listen to him any longer, Julian backs up. “Whenever you realize working together is in Summer’s best interest, come find me, Boy Scout. Until then, I’ll just pretend you don’t exist.” Then he walks away.Gage glares at Julian’s retreating form. His hand scrapes through his hair as he fumes. A guttural roar of rage crawls up his throat, and he kicks the sand.Damn him and his stupid logic. He’s right. And Gage knows he’s right. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

I’m tired, my head hurts, and the last thing I want is to play referee between you two. Get over it.” She storms off, unable to stop the smug smile stretching her face at their stunned silence. The way people respond to her demands—all flabbergasted and slack-jawed—will never get old.

I’ll stab him,” offers Jaden as she makes a stabbing motion.“You expect me to play along?” Rob scoffs, gripping his arm protectively.“Pretty much,” replies Landon earnestly.“You’re serious?”“As a heart attack.”“No,” argues Rob. “I’m not going to let Jaden—or anyone else—skewer me.” He’s greeted with an amused silence. “Bleedin’ crime is what it is,” he mutters. “Why can’t someone else go all noble sacrifice-y? It’s because I’m English, ain’t it?

Love’s sharp teeth sink into her. She surrenders to his possessive arms. They anchor her to his body and to this strange, new reality. With her ear situated against his chest, she listens to his steady heartbeat. It’s strong and reassuring. Her own is jarring in comparison, a rapid rhythm crashing its way through her.

Why won’t you look at me?” she murmurs.He doesn’t speak, seemingly at a loss for words.“It’s my scars.” It comes out as barely a whisper.Horror spasms across his face. “What? No,” he says, a bit breathless. “You’re beautiful. All of you.

She reaches into the unknown and claims his hand, clasping it as if he might evaporate into the night. She’s petrified. Not of the monstrosities prowling the island, but of the demon inside herself. The one about to rip apart her heart and mind to attain a selfish freedom. And it might all be a lie, placed there by the Society.

I like to eat chicken, but I don’t like live chickens. With their feathers and beaks and weird noises and flapping wings.” He visibly shivers, then points above his right eye. “How’d you think I got this scar?”“I thought you said your sister threw something at you when you were a kiddie.”Rob gives him a meaningful look.“A chicken?”Rob points at his scar again. “Them things are no joke.

It hurts,” Summer cries, head shaking back and forth. “Please, make it stop.” Sweat beads on her forehead.“What hurts?” Cameron asks.“My eyes.”Summer’s eyes open. Everyone gasps. They’re no longer blue; they appear bionic, like a circuit board’s inside her eyes. Panicked now, Summer reaches for her face. “What is it? What’s wrong?