“I killed him so I wouldn’t have to kill you. I thought it would get Briggs back in line and stop the leaks and scare you enough to stop, but you kept pushing. You wouldn’t take my offer to just marry that Goddamn girl and leave, you’re too stupid and stubborn! I thought that when I took you to Nightlight, you’d just mind your own business and be too busy worrying about getting back home, but you pushed and PUSHED. Ricky knew what he was doing planting that seed in your head. You’re exactly like him. Things are so…simple for you.”

Hot spittle flies from the Reverend’s lips, but Marcos—my immovable sentry—holds his spear between me and the Reverend. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to marry Marcos…and lose him the same night. “They were only married for a few hours,” I growl.

“A few hours together can feel like a lifetime,” the Reverend replies, his black eyes narrowing. “You and Marcos know how important—how vital—only a few hours can be.” Marcos and I point our spears, alert again as Darcy takes another step toward the door behind her. “My staff informed me you two were headed to the falls, and the other campers didn’t reach you for another hour. An hour of bliss. I didn’t get my storybook waterfall romance like you or Ricky or Miss Culpepper or EVERYONE ELSE, but I know what goes on in that cave.”

“You don’t know—” Marcos begins, but the Reverend descends on him, allowing the point of Marcos’s spear to graze his heart.

“Mr. Carrillo, don’t make me an idiot! I saw the way you moved to protect Connor, I see the disgusting hickeys splattered all over your neck—animals—and pardon me, but unwashed faggot sex has a very particular scent and it’s all over you.”

I lunge forward, unthinking, until my spear is one jab away from the Reverend’s eye socket. He doesn’t blink. “Call him a faggot again,” I stammer breathlessly. “Do it again and I’ll run this through your eye.”

“Connor,” Marcos warns, but I said what I said.

“It’s getting real in here,” the Reverend chuckles, unfazed. “You think stabbing a man of God will play well back home—?”

“You think I care anymore what anyone on this shithead planet thinks?!”

“Oh, Mr. Major,” he purrs, vaguely impressed, “now we’re talking. Now you finally see where I’m coming from.”

“We’re leaving the island NOW. You got your five minutes. Step aside.”

The Reverend grits his teeth, sweat dropping faster and faster down his cheeks. “I would love to, but you’re forgetting one thing. BILL!”