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“Refusing to listen to him any longer, Julian backs up. “Whenever you realize working together is in Summer’s best interest, come find me, Boy Scout. Until then, I’ll just pretend you don’t exist.” Then he walks away. Gage glares at Julian’s retreating form. His hand scrapes through his hair as he fumes. A guttural roar of rage crawls up his throat, and he kicks the sand. Damn him and his stupid logic. He’s right. And Gage knows he’s right. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it.”

“He’s focused on something—or someone—over her shoulder. The harmonious warbling of the rainforest morphs into organized disarray, as if a primitive maestro has thrown conducting to the wind and let Mother Nature take over. Birds trill a warning as the breeze rustles the plant life. Wings flutter overhead. A crescendo of stridulation changes tempo, the insects seemingly performing a sonata as the rhythm shifts yet again. “What—who is it?” Summer asks in a strained whisper. His gaze lands on her, his brows furrowing. “The Forsaken.”

“Every Forsaken in a mile radius can probably hear you. You’re just asking for trouble if you two don’t stop whipping out the measuring stick.” “It’s his fault,” Avery snaps, pointing at Julian. “Shut up, ya wanker.” They start in on each other again. They yell as if they both have megaphones to their mouths, standing inches apart. Each vulgar insult is more illogical than the last.”

“The aftermath of bearing shackles is an exquisite devastation, fraught with the ravages of survival. Even though one is no longer held captive—be that from a person, a government, or one’s inner self—the scars are deeply engraved into one’s psyche, and there’s no remedy for the soul. Many have the misconception that freedom equals happiness forever and ever. That’s a wicked delusion.”

“When the nurse leaves, Doctor Rose mouths, “Act like you’re in pain.” Then she mimics a painful expression in case Summer doesn’t understand. On the contrary, Summer’s an expert at interpreting body language and reading lips. It’s all thanks to her observant nature while enslaved on the Cosmos. Who else could tell that Peter’s discomfort is due to him wearing the same pair of underwear for a week straight? Ah, yes, she always knew when day six and seven approached. She watched the crew member with much amusement as he waddled, pulled wedgies, and scratched his bum relentlessly. Not that anyone else cared to know that little nugget of information.”

“I’ll stab him,” offers Jaden as she makes a stabbing motion. “You expect me to play along?” Rob scoffs, gripping his arm protectively. “Pretty much,” replies Landon earnestly. “You’re serious?” “As a heart attack.” “No,” argues Rob. “I’m not going to let Jaden—or anyone else—skewer me.” He’s greeted with an amused silence. “Bleedin’ crime is what it is,” he mutters. “Why can’t someone else go all noble sacrifice-y? It’s because I’m English, ain’t it?”

“I like to eat chicken, but I don’t like live chickens. With their feathers and beaks and weird noises and flapping wings.” He visibly shivers, then points above his right eye. “How’d you think I got this scar?” “I thought you said your sister threw something at you when you were a kiddie.” Rob gives him a meaningful look. “A chicken?” Rob points at his scar again. “Them things are no joke.”