Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 870 - 872

Chapter 870: Chapter 872

Susan nodded slowly. "We were broken when we got here. All of us. But the island... it gave us something else. Something new."

"And maybe something old too," Jude added. "Something we buried."

He stepped back, letting his gaze fall over each of them.

"We’ll start tomorrow. Each of us. We’ll talk. We’ll remember. Maybe if we piece it together, we’ll figure out what this thing really is."

They nodded, one by one. It wasn’t a perfect plan. But it was better than waiting in fear.

That night, Jude lay awake in the treehouse, surrounded by the quiet breathing of his wives. He thought about what the thing had said through Sophie, through Lucy, through Amelia. About guilt. About favorites. About forgotten things. He tried to summon memories from before the island, but they were hazy now, like water slipping through his fingers. He felt something approaching, something big and inevitable, pressing closer with each night.

Outside, the wind shifted.

And across the forest, near the border, the blue light pulsed again, twice this time.

The morning sunlight came like a slow wave through the canopy, golden and warm, filtering through the green like honey. Jude stirred in the treehouse, caught between dreams and the sound of birdsong echoing across the camp. He blinked up at the wooden beams above him, hearing the soft breaths of those still asleep nearby. Lucy had her head on his chest again, her hand tucked under her cheek. Grace was curled beside her, legs tangled in the rough cotton blanket. The quietness felt deeper than usual, not peaceful, but expectant. He exhaled slowly and shifted his body with practiced care, gently lifting Lucy’s head and sliding away without waking them. They both stirred a little but settled again, wrapped up in each other’s warmth.

He stepped lightly across the room. Sophie was in the corner of the room on a mat, her arm covering her eyes as she slept with her mouth slightly open. A small snore escaped her and made him smile despite everything. The treehouse smelled faintly of pine, fabric, and ashes from the oil lamp they’d put out hours earlier. He picked up his shirt from the chair near the door, brushed dust from it, and slipped it on. Outside, the wind rustled the leaves high above, whispering secrets through the canopy.

When he climbed down the ladder and his boots hit the soft dirt of the camp, Jude paused. It wasn’t just the quietness of the morning or the weight of the strange days. It was something else. A hush deeper than silence, like the island was holding its breath.

Emma was already near the fire pit, crouched with a bundle of dried herbs. She looked up as he approached, brushing a wisp of gray hair from her forehead. The others often teased her for acting like the camp grandmother despite being no older than the rest of them, but Jude liked her presence in the mornings. She grounded things.

"You’re up early," he said.

"I woke up to the sound of the trees whispering nonsense," she replied, tossing herbs into the pot over the fire. "Either I’m going mad or the forest is learning to speak."

Jude crouched beside her. "Maybe both."

Emma chuckled, then sobered. "The girls... something’s wrong. Even they feel it. They just don’t know how to talk about it."

"I’m going to start asking questions today," Jude said. "Everyone. One by one. We need to figure out what’s changing."

"I think it’s us," she said quietly, eyes fixed on the flames. "I think we’ve changed too much to fit into this place anymore. It’s squeezing us, like a shoe too tight."

Jude didn’t answer. He stood, stretched, and went to fetch the water bucket from the stream. The trees seemed thicker today. The birds are quieter. When he returned, Stella and Natalie were up, sweeping the camp and collecting dry leaves. Susan and Scarlett were hauling fresh branches for firewood. There was a routine here that still moved like clockwork, but even that felt stretched thin, like a song slowing down at the end of its last verse.

By midmorning, he gathered the group together on the flat open space beside the treehouses. No one resisted. It was unusual to have meetings this early, but the unspoken urgency had settled into all of them like a second skin. They sat in a circle on blankets and logs, the fire pit cold and unused for now.

"I want to talk about the blackouts," Jude began.

There were no protests, only the slow, uncomfortable shifting of bodies. The wives exchanged glances. Some looked away.

"We’ve all had them," he continued. "You forget something, even just a few minutes, and when you come back, you feel like time moved without you. Sometimes it’s worse. Sometimes it’s not just lost time, but something you did during that time. Something... strange."

A pause, then Serena spoke. "I thought I was dreaming. I kept waking up feeling warm and strange, like someone else had been inside me. I thought maybe it was just me losing my mind."

"It’s not," Jude said. "It’s real. And I think something’s getting stronger. Each time it happens, the person touched by it becomes more... vulnerable. More open to it."

Zoey hugged her knees. "It’s like being possessed."

"But possessed by what?" Scarlett asked, frustration crackling in her voice. "We’ve killed every beast that’s ever crossed our border. This isn’t something we can spear."

"That’s what I’m trying to figure out," Jude said. "I need you to trust me. I want to talk to each of you, separately, today. One on one. Maybe something will come out if we go slow."

There were murmurs of agreement. Jude nodded and stood. "Scarlett, you’re first."

They walked to the edge of the camp near the carved log bench beside the trees. She sat with her legs apart, arms crossed, jaw set tight.

"You think I’m being followed by a ghost?" she asked.