The Wealthy Divorcee
The others still lay in broken heaps across the sand, clinging to what little warmth their exhausted bodies could muster.
Jenna pressed her hand against Tiara, whose glow had faded to a dim pulse. The AI chirped faintly: Energy low… environment hostile… proceed cautiously. The words confirmed what her gut already told her. The island was no sanctuary—it was a test they weren’t meant to pass easily.
She looked toward the tree line. The jungle loomed, dark and swollen with secrets, its canopy bending like a warning arch. “We need to scout,” Jenna said quietly.
Steeve raised his head, his voice hoarse but resolute. “Then I’m coming.”
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