Chapters (72)
- Dedication
- Prey Island Map
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- CREED
- SIX
- BILLIE
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- JIRO
- TWELVE
- BILLIE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- ROW
- TWENTY-TWO
- BILLIE
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- ACHILLES
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- CREED
- THIRTY-NINE
- BILLIE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- ROW
- FIFTY
- BILLIE
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- TO CONTINUE THE ADVENTURE…
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ALSO BY KENDRA
“What about passports?” Achilles asks. He’s sitting on the back of the boat, his feet dangling in the water every so often. I have no idea how he can stomach doing that after our encounter with the sharks. You won’t catch me in the ocean any time soon.
“Like I said,” Row answers. “Connections. I’ll take care of everything once we get to the Majura Atoll.”
Our plan is simple enough. At the international airport, Row will handle the paperwork and get us flights back home. Which means everything will be done. We’ll be free to return to our lives and go about things as if they’re normal.
As if anything could be normal again.
“Before we reach land, we have something that needs taken care of first,” Jiro announces. He pulls a knife from his hip and holds it up. “Turn around, Billie.”
Anyone else would have heard those words and saw the knife and decided to run. Not me. I simply give my back to Jiro and wait as he presses there, searching for the tracker they left behind. When he finds it just underneath my skin, I feel the cold steel press there.
“Deep breath,” Creed instructs.
I do as he says and hover between wanting to jerk away and knowing I need to hold incredibly still so he can cut the tracker from my back. Some fear rises that he could nick my spine if I move so I force myself to be as still as possible. I feel the tip of the knife dip in and there’s a bite of pain that grows worse when he sets aside the knife and presses at the wound until the tiny tracker pops free.
“All done,” he says.
When I turn and look at him, he holds up the tiny tracker in slightly bloody fingers for me to see.
“I’m free,” I breathe, looking at him. “We all are.”
Row grimaces. “Well. . . if anything, I’ve gotten less free.”
Realizing where this is all leading, I open my mouth to speak. I don’t know what I’m about to say. After ten days of surviving on an isolated island being hunted by assholes, after killing for each other repeatedly and protecting each other, after having sex and falling for them, what is there really left to say? Ten days. That’s all it was, and yet it feels like a lifetime. My life will never be the same. Their lives will never be the same.
Prey Island has left its mark on our souls. I haven’t decided how I feel about that yet.