Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1111

Chapter 1111: Chapter 1111

"They wanted to remind us how many they’ve taken," Sophie added grimly.

"We have to do something," Emma said. "Before it’s all of us."

Later that night, Jude lay awake with Sophie curled beside him. She slept lightly, her fingers tangled with his under the blanket. Her breaths were soft, her body warm against his. But Jude’s eyes remained fixed on the wooden ceiling above them, his mind spinning. He wasn’t afraid of the corrupted versions of his wives, he was terrified of the part of himself that still wanted them. That missed them. That burned with need when he thought about Layla’s wicked laugh, or Zoey’s heated gaze, or the way Lucy had whispered his name before everything changed.

He turned slowly to face Sophie. Even in sleep, she looked tired. She’d fought so hard to stay herself. To protect him. To resist. He brushed a kiss over her forehead and slipped out from the bed quietly.

Outside, the moon lit the clearing in silver. Emma sat near the dying fire, sharpening a knife. Her eyes met his without surprise.

"You couldn’t sleep either?" she asked.

He shook his head, joining her on the log. "Do you think there’s anything left of them in there?"

Emma paused, then slowly resumed sharpening. "I think there is. But it’s buried under something ancient and hungry."

"We need a plan."

"We need help."

"From what?"

Emma looked up at the stars. "The same thing the island warned us about. The watchers. The symbols. They knew this was coming."

He followed her gaze and thought about the markings they’d once drawn in the earth, the ceremonies, the rituals they’d forgotten when life had started to feel safe. Maybe nothing had ever been safe.

A branch cracked to the east.

Jude stood instantly, Emma following close behind, both slipping silently toward the sound. They kept low, weaving through the trees. The sound came again, footsteps this time, soft but steady. They crept forward until they reached the edge of a grove.

There, in the moonlight, Natalie stood alone. She was humming.

Jude’s breath caught. Her hair was down, cascading over her bare shoulders, her white dress stained at the hem. She turned slowly, as if she’d felt them watching, and looked directly at him.

She smiled.

But this smile wasn’t like the one Rose wore. It was quieter. Sadder.

"Jude," she said softly. "I didn’t expect to miss you this much."

Emma raised the knife.

"No," Jude said, stepping forward slightly. "Not yet."

Natalie tilted her head. "You don’t have to be afraid of me."

"You’re not... you anymore."

"But I remember everything. Every kiss. Every word. Every night you held me."

He felt his chest tighten. "Then fight it."

"I don’t want to." She stepped forward, her voice aching. "That’s the worst part. It feels like flying, Jude. It feels like being free."

Emma stepped in front of him. "Then you’ve already lost."

Natalie’s smile faded. "You’ll see. You’ll all see. It’s not about surrender. It’s about becoming."

Then she vanished into the trees.

They returned to the camp in silence. Emma said nothing as she curled next to Stella, her eyes still on the trees. Jude laid beside Sophie again, holding her close this time, pressing his lips to her shoulder. She stirred and turned to face him, eyes half open.

"You okay?" she whispered.

"No."

She kissed him, slow and deep, as if trying to remind him of everything they still had. And for a moment, he let it carry him away, the heat between them, the shared breath, her soft moans as he ran his hands down her spine. But even as they moved together, even as her body wrapped around his, the shadow of Natalie’s voice stayed lodged in his skull.

It feels like flying.

The next morning, Stella found something carved into the bark of the tree near the river. It wasn’t watcherscript, it was newer, rougher, but it pulsed faintly in the air, a vibration of something old and breathing. Sophie traced it with her fingers and recoiled instantly, her hand tingling.

"They’re marking territory," she said.

Jude looked at the grove across the river and then back at her. "That’s where Natalie was last night."

"They’re trying to claim it," Emma said. "We have to destroy the mark."

Susan stepped forward, holding a jar filled with the last of the powdered watchersoot. "We can smear it over the carving. It might disrupt the energy."

Together, they approached the tree. Sophie stood watch with the knife while Jude climbed up and pressed the soot into the grooves. The mark hissed slightly, and a breeze ripped through the trees so fast it knocked Susan off her feet.

Then silence.

Jude jumped down.

"I think it worked."

But that night, Natalie didn’t come alone.

This time, all six returned, and this time, they didn’t stay at the edge.

They walked right into the clearing.

Jude stood with Sophie and Emma, watching them approach with unhurried steps and glowing smiles. The air grew hot despite the night. His breath caught as Lucy reached out and touched his chest.

"You’re so tired, Jude," she whispered. "Let us help you rest."

Sophie slapped her hand away, fury in her eyes.

But Lucy only laughed.

"I remember when you liked my touch more than hers," she said.

Emma shoved her back, but the corrupted wives didn’t resist. They simply stood, watching, waiting.

Then Rose stepped forward.

"Stop fighting. Come with us. Be with us again. All of you."

"No," Jude said.

And then from behind him, a voice.

"I will."

They turned.

It was Scarlet.

She stepped into the firelight, her long red hair gleaming, her eyes wide. She was barefoot, dressed in a wrap, her face soft with longing.

"Scarlet, no," Sophie said, reaching for her.

But Scarlet walked past her, straight to Rose, and took her hand.

Rose smiled.

And as they turned to leave together, Scarlet looked back once, just once.