Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1105

Chapter 1105: Chapter 1105

Lucy watched from the shadows, eyes gleaming. Stella stood at the edge, lips parted as if waiting for a cue.

"They’re falling," Emma said beside him.

He turned. "Stella?"

"She’s next," Emma said. "You feel it?"

He nodded. "They’re lining up like pieces."

Emma’s hand found his. She held it tight, grounding herself. Her eyes searched the others’ faces, not with suspicion, but sorrow.

"I hate this," she said. "I hate watching them become... not them."

"We won’t let it take you too," Jude said. His hand slid to her lower back, drawing her close. Emma leaned into his chest and whispered, "Kiss me. Just to remember who I am."

He did. Soft and slow. His mouth explored hers like it was new again, like it might save them. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, and for a moment, all the chaos vanished. When they parted, she smiled.

"I’m still here," she said.

But then they heard footsteps.

Stella approached, her bare feet brushing the grass, her white dress damp at the hem. She tilted her head, her expression open and curious.

"You look sad," she said.

"We’re just tired," Emma replied.

Stella nodded. "We all are. But Rose says that’s just the last bit of resistance. Once you let go, the island gives you energy like you wouldn’t believe."

Emma smiled tightly. "I like my energy the way it is."

"You’d like this more." Stella reached out, brushing her fingers along Emma’s shoulder, slow and casual.

Jude stepped subtly between them. "Have you seen Susan today?"

Stella blinked. "She’s with Rose. She said she’s ready now."

Emma stiffened. "Ready for what?"

Stella’s smile widened. "To let the island in."

Jude exhaled. "Of course."

That night, the fire crackled in the center of camp, but no one sat beside it. The corrupted wives had built their own circle on the far side, laughing and touching and feeding each other bites of fruit. Their shadows danced in perfect rhythm.

Sophie, Emma, and Jude kept to the outer edge, lying close, whispering. They were the last three. The last real ones.

"I saw Susan near the river earlier," Sophie whispered. "She was speaking to the water. Not into it, to it. Like something was inside."

Emma said nothing. Her eyes were locked on Rose, who was kissing Lucy while Grace ran her hands through their hair. "They’re building something. A hive. And Rose is the queen."

Jude leaned back, arms around both of them. "So we stop the queen."

"By doing what?" Sophie asked. "Tying her up? Dragging her away?"

"No," Emma said. "We follow her."

They looked at her. Jude’s brows raised. "What?"

"She wants us to come. She’s waiting. She thinks she’s already won. So let’s go along. But this time, we’re ready."

Sophie considered it. "Infiltration?"

Emma nodded. "One more kiss. One more night. And we strike."

That night, they made love quietly, not from lust but from the desperate need to feel. To remember. To claim something as their own. Jude kissed Sophie’s neck while his hands roamed Emma’s hips. Sophie moaned softly as Emma kissed her breast, and the heat between them became a sanctuary. Their bodies tangled in the dark, and no words were needed. It was real. It was human.

And it was almost the last of it.

At dawn, they followed Rose into the forest.

She didn’t hide. She walked openly, barefoot, her long red dress brushing the moss. Layla, Zoey, and Susan trailed behind her, their hands linked. Stella and Lucy followed close behind, giggling like schoolgirls. Grace and Natalie brought up the rear, whispering in watcherspeak, those humming notes no one else understood.

They reached a clearing where the trees bent inward unnaturally, forming a half-circle. Vines twisted along the trunks in shapes like runes. The ground pulsed faintly, a soft throb underfoot.

Rose stepped into the center and turned.

"You came."

"We’re ready," Jude said.

Sophie’s hand found his. Emma held Sophie’s other.

Rose smiled and raised her arms.

"You’ve chosen well." Her voice echoed unnaturally, like it carried through stone.

Layla and Zoey stepped forward, each bearing a curved shard of bone etched with light. They knelt and placed them in a circle around Jude, Sophie, and Emma.

Sophie shivered. "What is this?"

Rose’s eyes gleamed. "The last offering."

The earth beneath their feet began to hum. Sophie’s knees buckled, and Jude caught her. Emma gasped, clutching her head.

The nine women around them began to sing, not with voices, but with breath. A wind that wasn’t wind. A sound that came from their lungs and their skin. It wrapped around them like silk.

Jude felt himself slipping.

"No," he growled. "Not like this."

He dropped to his knees, hands gripping the dirt.

"Fight it!" Sophie screamed.

Emma reached for the bone shards, but they burned her palms. "They’re feeding the ground!"

The hum grew louder. The light beneath them cracked open, and a shape moved in the shadows, a form bigger than any man, its outline made of smoke and light and hunger.

And at the edge of the clearing, behind the corrupted wives, a single figure appeared.

Stella.

She hadn’t joined the circle. She stood frozen, watching.

Her eyes were wide.

And then, just before the hum reached its peak, Stella ran.

She turned and vanished into the trees, breath catching in her throat.

Rose didn’t notice. The ground opened wider.

And Jude, his hands bleeding from clutching the earth, saw the thing beneath them rising.

He screamed Sophie’s name.

And the clearing filled with light.

The clearing was still thick with the scent of sweet pollen and smoke from the ritual fire, its flames now reduced to curling trails of embers that hissed as dew-laced leaves fell into it. Jude stood still, breath ragged, heart pounding. Around him, Sophie and Emma watched in tense silence, eyes fixed on the spot where the earth had opened, where something had begun to rise. The corrupted wives stood in a semicircle, Rose at the center, flanked by Layla and Zoey, their hands linked and bare feet pressed into the mossy ground.