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
He pulls a knife and jabs it into the tree before twisting. When he pulls it out, a piece of something comes with it. When he drops back down next to me, he holds it out to me, and I stare in surprise. It’s a speaker, wires hanging out the back of it, but it’s painted just perfectly to blend into the tree, as if it’s part of the bark.
“Friends with money,” he adds. “This right here, it’s military intelligence. We used to use shit like this in missions. Some kind of tech the military bought off some tech mogul.”
My eyes widen at that tidbit. If they have that sort of money, what other tech do they have out here? “Are we fucked?”
He looks back down at me, hesitates. “Nah. We can survive. It’s just going to take some sketchy shit.” His eyes lock with mine. “No more panic attacks.”
I take a deep breath. “No more panic attacks,” I agree. While I don’t know if I can keep that promise, I’ve definitely already been desensitized to some of it. Part of that is me telling myself over and over again that this isn’t home, it’s survival. This is an apocalypse type event. Would I hesitate to shoot a zombie? Probably not. Would I feel bad about it? Probably, but I can feel bad about this later. For now, we do what we have to do in order to survive.
“If there are speakers like this, you can bet your ass there’re cameras just as high tech,” Creed adds, looking around. “They’re watching us, like some sick horse race.”
“You think they’re taking bets on us?” I ask, partly because it’s too serious of a situation and I need some humor. “If they call me The Stripper as a horse name, I’m going to be pissed.”
That crooked smile pulls at Creed’s face again. “Didn’t you say your stage name is Freya. They probably call you the Goddess of Love.”
I scowl. “She was also the Goddess of War,” I remind him. “And they’ll do well to remember that.”
We keep moving. Clearly, the island is wide enough to make my legs ache, and it’s slow moving through some of the thicker foliage. I wish I would have grabbed one of the machetes when I’d had the chance but there’s nothing we can do about it now. We push our way through, Creed helping me when my smaller frame gets caught in some of the thickest parts. I’m coated in sweat quickly as it soaks through my shirt and drips down my ass crack. Next time we find a stream, I’m calling dibs on a protected bath. Ain’t nobody got time for swamp ass.