Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 878 - 880

Chapter 878: Chapter 880

Jude didn’t sleep. Not even a blink. He remained seated near the window of the upper treehouse chamber, his back pressed against the smooth bark wall, one hand resting on the wooden staff he’d carved long ago, more as a tool for hiking than fighting, but it had since become something of a companion. Through the narrow slit he watched the jungle canopy, the shadows between the trees never quite still, and the occasional flicker of something moving just outside his field of vision. The others had fallen asleep, most out of sheer exhaustion. A few, like Grace and Scarlett, had taken longer, tossing and turning, whispering to themselves. But even they eventually gave in. The silence inside the shelter was interrupted only by the slow, heavy rhythm of breathing. The silence outside was worse.

It wasn’t the usual kind of quiet that the forest offered. Not the comforting hush of night insects or the subtle rustle of leaves. This quiet had weight to it, like something pressing down on the whole canopy, smothering even the smallest sounds. Jude’s ears strained for any sign of the smoke, any hiss or whisper or breath of unnatural wind. Nothing came. And yet he knew it was out there, just at the edges of their world, perhaps at the edge of someone’s dream.

His eyes drifted to where Lucy and Grace were curled beside one another, faces soft and serene in the flickering shadows. A moment of peace, after days of slow unravelling. He didn’t trust it. His gaze lingered, waiting for something to change, a sudden twitch, a shudder, a flicker of blue, but all he saw was sleep. They looked so normal. So human. And yet he knew that somewhere between those quiet, resting thoughts, something foreign could be waiting.

The first signs came with sunrise. The light crept in from the east, pale and golden, cutting through the trees in bars. Jude stood, careful not to make a sound, and stepped out onto the platform. A few birds chirped far off in the distance, but the rest of the forest remained eerily subdued. The air was thick, heavy, not just with humidity, but with tension. Something about the color of the morning felt off, brighter than it should be, like someone turned up the saturation on a painting.

Down below, Susan was the first to wake. She emerged from the lower treehouse rubbing her eyes and yawning, her shirt sliding off one shoulder. She glanced up at Jude and offered him a small wave, to which he nodded. She didn’t look possessed. She looked tired. Normal. But Jude had learned not to trust appearances.

Within the hour, the others were stirring. Zoey was humming quietly while brushing her hair with a comb made from carved bone. Stella and Serena were washing their faces in the river with scraps of cloth, laughing softly at something only they heard. Emma was busy preparing a small firepit near the central cooking area, her movements methodical and practiced. Jude watched all of it, feeling like an outsider in his own family. The strangeness was that nothing felt out of place, yet he could feel the edges of the abnormal stretching thinner.

It wasn’t long before the camp was alive again. Morning routines had a way of seducing the mind into believing everything was normal. Breakfast was made, fish cooked with wild roots and leaves, served on flat stones. Conversation sparked, lightly, tentatively. Natalie joked about the dream she couldn’t remember, something about being chased by a giant banana. Scarlett teased her while chewing on a bit of roasted crab from the night before. Grace and Sophie sat close to Jude, their thighs touching his on either side, a little closer than usual. He noticed. They didn’t.

By midday, the group had split off to complete their daily tasks. Susan and Zoey had gone to the northern side of the island to gather medicinal herbs. Scarlett and Serena were climbing the west-facing cliffs to look for seabird eggs. Lucy and Natalie were setting traps near the eastern woods. Jude had planned to take a short patrol along the central perimeter, but as he passed the bathing pool on the way, he noticed Emma standing knee-deep in the water, staring at her own reflection.

"Emma," he called.

She didn’t turn.

He walked closer.

She was wearing only a simple wrap around her chest and waist, her long dark hair tied loosely behind her back. She turned slowly as he approached, and something in her eyes immediately struck him. A softness. But not the usual kind, this was heavy, pressing, too intimate for the casual relationship they’d long since settled into.

"Jude," she said, her voice thick like warm syrup.

He stopped. "You okay?"

"I am now," she murmured.

There was a long pause. Her eyes didn’t leave his face.

"I was thinking about you," she said, taking another step through the water.

Jude watched her, trying not to react.

"I’ve been dreaming of you," she continued. "Every night. Every hour. When I close my eyes, I feel you even when you’re not there."

"That doesn’t sound like you," he said quietly.

She smiled. "Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think."

"Maybe I do. And maybe this isn’t you talking."

She laughed. It wasn’t mocking. It was light and flirtatious, but there was something beneath it, like someone else was trying to mimic the way she laughed, and hadn’t quite learned how to do it right.

She took another step toward him, now only a few feet away. The water rippled around her legs.

"I could make you forget everything," she said. "Just for a while. Let me take care of you."

"Emma, "

She tilted her head. "Would you say no to me? To her ?"

There was a flicker in her eyes. A shimmer of blue.

He stepped back. "You need to sit down. Breathe. You’re not yourself."

She blinked. Her entire expression collapsed, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She stumbled, nearly falling backward into the water. He caught her.