Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1275

Chapter 1275: Chapter 1275

Jude swallowed hard. "Lucy, I don’t want to lose you."

"You haven’t," she said, turning to face him. "I’m still me. I still love you. But I see more now. I feel more. And I’m not afraid of it."

Outside, the trees rustled in a breeze that didn’t touch the house. A faint, familiar hum threaded the air again, softer now, gentle.

Lucy curled into his chest, her leg thrown over his hip. "She’s waiting for Sophie."

Jude stiffened. "What?"

"She showed me. In the dream. Sophie’s next."

He sat up, dragging a sheet over them both. "We need to find her."

"She’s safe," Lucy said, eyes still distant. "For now. But she’s already hearing the song. It’s only a matter of time."

Jude stood, pulling on his pants, heart racing. Emma stirred from the corner, blinking groggily.

"What happened?" she mumbled. Then her eyes sharpened. "Where’s Lucy?"

"I’m here," Lucy said, sitting up slowly. "I’m fine."

Emma looked at Jude. Then at Lucy. Her expression darkened. "No. No, don’t tell me she - "

"I’m fine," Lucy repeated. "I chose this."

Emma’s jaw clenched. "Oh god. Not you too."

Lucy met her gaze without blinking. "You’ll understand soon."

"No," Emma said, rising. "I’m not letting this happen. I’m not letting her take any more of us."

"She’s not taking," Lucy said softly. "She’s offering."

Jude stepped between them. "Emma. Please. Let’s talk to Sophie."

Emma’s mouth was a hard line, but she nodded.

They found Sophie near the river, crouched low, arms wrapped around her knees. She didn’t look up as they approached. Her whole body was tight, like she was holding something in.

"I heard it," she whispered. "This morning. In the water. It was my mother’s voice. But I know she’s not here."

Lucy knelt beside her. "It wasn’t her. It was Rose. The island."

Sophie looked at her, eyes filled with pain. "You too?"

Lucy nodded. "I don’t regret it."

Sophie shook her head, stood up, backing away. "No. No, this isn’t right. I know what real love feels like. This... this is control."

"It’s not," Lucy said gently. "It’s release."

Jude touched Sophie’s arm. "You don’t have to decide now. But we’re with you."

"I won’t let her in," Sophie said, voice shaking. "Even if I’m the last one standing."

Jude looked at Lucy.

Lucy didn’t argue.

The three of them walked back in silence. The treehouse loomed ahead, and just beyond the clearing, Emma stood with arms folded, watching them return.

That night, none of them made love. Not even a kiss was shared. The treehouse felt colder, emptier.

Lucy curled into Jude’s side, but didn’t sleep.

Neither did Sophie. She sat on the floor near the window, a knife in her lap.

And somewhere deep in the woods, someone began to hum again. Only this time, it wasn’t Stella. It wasn’t Rose.

It was Sophie.

The sound barely rose above the wind, but Jude heard it - soft and low, like a lullaby remembered from another life. Sophie sat cross-legged near the open window, her blade forgotten in her lap, her head tilted slightly to the side as the tune fell from her lips unbidden. She didn’t seem to notice she was doing it. Her eyes were fixed on the moonlight spilling across the trees, and her voice was distant, dreamlike, hauntingly beautiful.

Jude sat up slowly, the sheets falling away from his chest. Lucy stirred beside him but didn’t wake. He glanced at Emma, who was curled tightly on the far edge of the bed, fists clenched under her chin, her back to them all.

"Sophie," he whispered.

She didn’t turn.

He rose, stepped carefully across the creaking floorboards until he was close enough to touch her. The knife rested against her thigh now, forgotten. Her shoulders moved gently with each breath, but her body was otherwise still, like a statue carved from moonlight and silence.

"Sophie," he said again, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She blinked, her song catching in her throat like she was waking from a dream. Her eyes widened when she looked at him, as if she didn’t recognize him for a moment.

"I heard it," she whispered. "Clearer than before. And not in the trees this time. It was in me."

He knelt in front of her, hands gently on her knees. "What did you see?"

"I didn’t see. I felt," she said. "Like my blood was humming. Like the roots of the island were curling up my spine and breathing through my skin." She shivered. "But I didn’t go to them. I swear I didn’t."

"I believe you."

Her eyes welled up. "I don’t want to lose myself, Jude."

"You won’t," he said fiercely. "I won’t let that happen."

Her lips parted slightly, and her voice dropped. "But what if part of me wants to?"

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. "Then I’ll hold onto the part that doesn’t."

Sophie’s hands slid up his chest, her fingers trembling. "I’m scared."

"I know."

"But I want to feel something else," she whispered. "Something that reminds me I’m still me."

Jude’s breath caught.

She kissed him.

It wasn’t desperate. It was gentle, aching, full of emotion too tangled to name. Her lips brushed his like a question, and when he didn’t pull away, she deepened it - slow, searching, her hands fisting in his shirt like he was the only thing tethering her to the earth.

He didn’t stop her.

His hands cradled her face, and they kissed again, and again, falling together slowly until the floor met their backs. The knife clattered away into the corner, forgotten. Sophie pulled his shirt over his head, her fingers exploring his skin like she was memorizing it, needing to know it, needing to feel it now before anything else inside her shifted.

She pulled her own shirt off next, bare to the moonlight, her skin glowing, her nipples taut in the chill of the night air. Jude stared at her, breathless. She was beautiful - fiercely, achingly beautiful, but fragile in a way she rarely showed. She pulled his hand to her chest, placed it over her heart.