Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1107

Jude stepped closer. "This... thing you worship. What is it?"

Rose stood slowly, her wet fingers leaving glistening trails across his chest. "It’s not about what it is. It’s about what we become in its light."

Emma pulled him back gently, and Rose just laughed, twirling away toward the trees. "Don’t fight it forever, Jude," she called. "You’ll see. We all will."

That night, Stella cried in her sleep. When Jude tried to comfort her, she pushed him away, muttering, "It’s calling me."

They moved her bedroll to the center of the room, surrounding her with the unconverted, Jude, Sophie, and Emma.

In the morning, she was gone.

Panic overtook them. They searched the house. The nearby woods. Called her name. But there was no sign of her.

Then Sophie saw it.

A trail of petals, soft and blue, leading into the trees.

Jude didn’t hesitate. They followed the trail deeper than before, until the trees thinned into a sunlit glade. And there, at the center, standing hand in hand with Rose and Zoey, was Stella.

She turned toward them, eyes glowing faintly, smile curling, identical to Rose’s.

"No," Emma whispered.

Stella raised her hands. "It’s better this way."

Jude stepped forward. "You said you were afraid."

She shook her head. "Not anymore."

Sophie clutched his arm. "Jude. We’re losing them."

Rose stepped forward then, eyes locked with his. "There are only three left. But not for long."

As she turned away, the others followed her back into the glade, laughter echoing behind them like wind chimes caught in a strange breeze.

Jude stood frozen. Sophie’s hand trembled in his. Emma wiped a tear from her cheek.

They didn’t speak as they returned home.

That night, the air was thick with heat and silence. Jude couldn’t sleep. He sat by the window, watching the dark woods.

And there, at the edge of the trees, he saw them.

Six of them now, Rose, Layla, Zoey, Susan, Grace, and Lucy, dancing in a circle of moonlight, their movements slow and sensual, hypnotic. Natalie stood just beyond them, hesitant, watching.

Jude watched as Rose extended a hand to her.

Natalie hesitated... and then took it.

He turned away, heart breaking.

Now only Emma and Sophie remained.

And he wasn’t sure how much longer that would last.

The moon hung low and swollen above the treetops, bathing the forest in silver as Jude stood in the shadows, watching the dance unfold once more. The circle had grown, Natalie now spun between Rose and Lucy, laughing with a voice that sounded sweeter than he remembered, almost too perfect. The grass beneath their feet glowed faintly, pulsing with the same rhythm as their movements. Jude felt a weight in his chest he couldn’t shake. Only Emma and Sophie were left beside him now, and he could see the strain it placed on them. Every glance from the others, every whisper, every brush of fingers, it was a quiet war of seduction and surrender, and they were running out of allies.

Back at the house, Sophie had begun warding the walls with symbols she’d carved from memory, runes they’d once thought were only for rituals with the watchers. She muttered under her breath while tracing them with ash, determined to protect what little they had left. Emma helped, though her hands trembled. She hadn’t spoken much since they saw Natalie join the others.

"She was our friend," Emma whispered while pressing her hand to the wood, as if she could feel the betrayal still vibrating through the beams. "She promised me she wouldn’t go."

"She didn’t choose it," Jude said, but the words felt hollow even to him. "Not really."

Sophie stopped, looked at him with a mix of pity and frustration. "They all say it’s better. But better for what? For who?"

That night, none of them slept deeply. The corrupted wives had begun visiting more openly, weaving themselves through the camp during the day with languid smiles and whispered jokes. They brought food, sat close, touched often. But always there was the sense that it was a performance, a game being played behind glowing eyes.

Rose appeared just before dawn, slipping into the treehouse without knocking, barefoot and glistening with dew.

"You’re not eating enough," she purred, placing a bowl of fruits on the table. "You’ll lose your strength."

Jude looked at her cautiously. "We’re fine."

"You’re surviving," she said, stepping closer. "Not living."

Sophie turned her back without a word. Emma stood rigidly by the stairs.

Rose’s eyes lingered on Jude. "We miss you."

He swallowed but said nothing.

She smiled softly. "Soon."

Then she left, bare feet silent on the wood.

Later that morning, Jude took Sophie and Emma with him to the river, away from the house and the glances, just to breathe. The trees seemed quieter here, less charged, though they knew the island was always listening. He stripped to his waist and waded into the water, letting the cold pull the heat from his skin. Emma followed, then Sophie, all three of them close, silent, the quiet current tugging gently at their bodies.

Sophie moved behind him, arms circling his chest, and Jude closed his eyes at the touch. Not possessive. Just holding him.

Emma came to his side, brushing his hand under the surface.

They didn’t speak, but the intimacy settled between them like mist, soft and real and fragile.

Later, as they lay drying on the mossy bank, Jude turned to Sophie. "What if we can’t stop it?"

"We don’t stop it," she said quietly. "We outlast it. We hold on to each other. We’re family."

Emma sat up. "But what if they’re right? What if it really is better?"

Jude looked at her, heart twisting. "Then we’re the ones who have to decide what better means."

That night, the wind shifted. The air tasted different, like rain and ash and sweetness.

Sophie woke first, nudged Jude. "Someone’s outside."