“Why?” Jackson asked, his brows furrowing. “Did you discover something aside from the unpredictable weather, animals that weren’t of their typical characteristics, and the cult-like groups here?”
Raven nodded.
“This isn’t just an island,” she murmured, brushing aside a thick vine. “It’s a prison; a hunting ground, to be exact.”
“A hunting ground?” Aina asked, the curiosity now etched on her expression. “What do you mean by that?”
“There’s a group here called the Wardens, and the man earlier could have been a member of them.”
Raven paused, glancing over her shoulder. “They’re not just survivors—they control the island, decide who gets to live, who gets to die.”
“And you aren’t one of them?” Irene asked, her tone laced with suspicion.
Irene had already asked that question before she
