Chapter 4

I lay perfectly still for what felt like an eternity, listening to the sounds of the night. My feigned sleep was a thin shield, and every nerve in my body was on high alert. This was it. The final act.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. Jason was gone. The fire was dying down to glowing embers. I pushed myself up, the pain in my leg a blinding, white-hot scream. I bit down on a piece of leather I had saved, muffling my groan.

I had one last thing to do. In my pocket was a small, tightly-wrapped leaf packet. Inside was a powder I had made from a plant I recognized from my research: a powerful, fast-acting sedative. I had spent the last two days secretly grinding its roots into a fine dust.

Jason always kept a canteen of fresh water by his sleeping spot. I hobbled over, my crutch sinking into the soft sand. My hands were shaking so violently I could barely untie the packet. I poured the entire contents into his canteen, swirling it gently to dissolve the powder. It was tasteless and odorless. A ghost in the water.

I returned to my bed of leaves just moments before he reappeared from the jungle. He looked satisfied, believing he had made his nightly report without issue. He saw me "stirring" and walked over.

"Chloe? Are you awake?" he asked, his voice soft.

I moaned, pretending to be in a drugged haze. "My leg... it hurts so much."

"I know," he said, his voice dripping with fake pity. "The tea should help you fall back asleep soon."

He went to his own sleeping area, took a long drink from the canteen, and settled down.

Now, I just had to wait.

An hour passed. Then two. The sky was beginning to lighten in the east. The wind was picking up, whipping the palm fronds into a frenzy. It seemed the real weather was starting to churn, a perfect cover for my fabricated storm.

Suddenly, Jason sat bolt upright. He looked confused, his eyes glassy.

"What..." he mumbled, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"Jax? Are you okay?" I asked, my voice full of feigned concern.

He tried to stand, but his legs buckled beneath him. He fell to his knees, his movements slow and uncoordinated. The sedative was working.

"Something's... wrong..." he slurred, looking at his hands as if they belonged to someone else.

"You're just tired," I said, my voice cold and hard now. The mask was off.

His head snapped up. He saw the look in my eyes, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine fear crossed his face. "Chloe? What did you do?"

"I'm surviving," I said, pushing myself up with my crutch. "The way you taught me."

I turned and started my painful journey toward the beach, toward the escape I had planned. I had packed a small waterproof bag with the last of the edible nuts and my most valuable possession: the dead smartwatch. It was my proof.

"No!" he yelled, his voice thick. He tried to get up again, scrambling in the sand like a crab. "You can't!"

He managed to get to his feet, swaying unsteadily. He was fighting the drug with sheer willpower. He started to stumble after me, a terrifying, slow-motion pursuit.

"You won't get away!" he shouted, his words slurring together.

I ignored him, focusing only on the water. My plan was to use a small log I had hidden as a flotation device and paddle out into the shipping lanes. The falsified hurricane data would have put any ships in the area on high alert. They' d be looking for signs of trouble. They' d be looking for me.

I reached the water's edge, my lungs burning, my leg on fire. Behind me, I heard Jason' s frantic movements. He had made it back to his shelter. I heard the crackle of the satellite phone.

He was calling for help. He was calling Brittany.

"Brittany! She knows! She's escaping!" he yelled into the phone, his voice filled with a panic I had never heard before. "The weather... something's wrong with the satellite data! There' s a hurricane warning but... the sky..."

There was a pause. I could imagine Brittany on the other end, confused and angry.

"The forecast is fake!" he screamed, a note of horrified realization in his voice. "She did this! She falsified the storm data! She lured a rescue vessel here!"

He knew. He had figured it out. But it was too late.

In the distance, I saw it. A tiny speck on the horizon, growing larger. A ship. My fabricated storm had worked.

Jason saw it too. He dropped the phone and started running toward me, his movements still clumsy but fueled by pure desperation. He was closing the distance fast.

He was not going to let me be rescued. He would drag me back into the jungle and my life would be over.

The wind was howling now, a real storm front moving in, nature' s fury aligning with my own. The waves were huge, crashing onto the shore with terrifying force.

I had a choice. Let him catch me and face whatever fate he and Brittany had planned, or take my chances with the ocean.

He was only fifty feet away, his face a mask of rage and betrayal.

"Chloe, don't!" he screamed over the roar of the wind.

I didn't hesitate. I looked at the raging sea, then back at the man who had been my savior, my lover, and my jailer.

Choosing death was better than choosing him.

With a final, defiant cry, I threw myself into the churning, violent water. The cold shock was instantaneous, a brutal embrace that stole my breath. A massive wave crashed over me, pulling me under, dragging me into the dark, chaotic depths of the ocean. The last thing I saw before the world went black was Jason' s horrified face on the shore.