The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light onto the beach where the survivors had huddled for the night. The warmth was welcome after the chill of the night, but it did little to lift the uneasy tension that clung to the group. They were alive, yes, but the sense of safety was an illusion. Each of them felt it—the island was not as it seemed.

Edward Carrington was the first to rise, his body stiff from the uncomfortable night. He took a moment to scan the surroundings, his eyes narrowing as he considered their next move. They needed to explore the island, to find higher ground, fresh water, and perhaps a way to signal for help. But as he turned to wake the others, he noticed something was off.

“Where’s Martin?” Edward’s voice cut through the morning air, startling the group awake.

The others looked around, realizing that the brash young man was nowhere to be seen. Victoria Gray, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, frowned. “He was supposed to be on watch with me. I fell asleep, but I thought he was just keeping an eye out.”

“He must have wandered off,” James Sterling suggested, already getting to his feet, ever alert. “Maybe he went to find food or water.”

“Or maybe he got himself into trouble,” Paul Henderson added, his tone light but laced with concern.

Dr. Alice Monroe stood, brushing sand from her clothes. “We should split up and look for him. He couldn’t have gone far.”

Nina Wells, still half-asleep, looked nervous. “Is that a good idea? We don’t know what’s out there.”

Edward, ever the leader, took charge. “We don’t have much choice. We can’t leave anyone behind. James, Victoria, you two check the cliffs to the north. Paul, Nina, search the forest to the east. Dr. Monroe and I will check the beach further south. Lillian, stay here and keep an eye on the camp.”

Lillian Thorne nodded, her expression unreadable. “Be careful.”

The group dispersed, each pair heading in their assigned direction. As they ventured away from the relative safety of the beach, the island’s true nature began to reveal itself. The forest was dense, the trees tall and twisted, their roots snaking across the ground like claws. The cliffs were jagged, with sharp rocks jutting out like the teeth of some ancient beast.

James and Victoria moved quickly along the base of the cliffs, their eyes scanning the terrain for any sign of Martin. “He was restless last night,” Victoria said quietly, more to herself than to James. “Kept talking about how he wasn’t going to just sit around and wait for rescue.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“That sounds like him,” James replied, his voice steady. “He’s the type to act first, think later. But wandering off alone was a mistake.”

They rounded a bend in the cliffs, and Victoria suddenly stopped short, her eyes widening. “James, look!”

Lying at the base of the cliff, half-buried in the sand, was Martin Rivers. His body was twisted at an unnatural angle, his face pale and lifeless. Blood stained the sand around his head, and a jagged rock protruded from beneath him, slick with red.

James approached cautiously, his military instincts kicking in. He knelt beside the body, checking for any sign of life, but it was clear that Martin was dead. “It looks like he fell,” James said grimly. “Must’ve been trying to climb the cliffs.”

Victoria felt a chill run down her spine as she took in the scene. Something didn’t sit right. “But why would he climb up there alone? And why didn’t we hear anything?”

James didn’t answer immediately. He was examining the area around Martin’s body, his sharp eyes taking in the details. The rock that had killed Martin was partially dislodged, as if it had been pried loose. And there were no clear signs of a struggle, no evidence that Martin had tried to catch himself.

“This wasn’t an accident,” James finally said, his voice low. “Someone was up there with him.”

Victoria’s heart skipped a beat. “You mean… someone pushed him?”

James nodded, his expression dark. “And whoever it was, they’re still out here.”

They both stood in silence, the realization sinking in. One of the survivors was a killer. What had started as a fight for survival had just taken a sinister turn. They were trapped on an island with a murderer.

“We need to get back to the others,” Victoria said, her voice shaky. “We need to warn them.”

James agreed, but as they turned to head back to the camp, a new fear settled in. They couldn’t trust anyone—not even each other. Every step back to the camp felt heavier, weighed down by the knowledge that the killer could be anyone. Was it Edward, with his commanding presence? Paul, with his easy humor? Dr. Monroe, with her calm demeanor? Or even Lillian, who had seemed so detached?

By the time they reached the camp, the others were already returning from their searches, empty-handed. Edward was the first to notice their grim expressions. “What happened?”

James took a deep breath, bracing himself. “We found Martin. He’s dead. And it wasn’t an accident.”

Gasps and murmurs of shock rippled through the group, each face reflecting a mix of fear and disbelief. Paul looked particularly shaken. “Dead? But… how?”

“He fell from the cliffs,” Victoria explained, her voice tight. “But James thinks someone pushed him.”

Silence fell over the group as the implications of her words sank in. The island, already a place of dread, had become something far worse. It was a hunting ground, and they were the prey.

“We need to stick together from now on,” Edward said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “No more splitting up. And no one goes anywhere alone.”

But as the group huddled closer, the knowledge that one among them was a killer created a rift that no amount of unity could bridge. Suspicion was a seed, and it had just been planted deep in each of their hearts. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its warmth seemed to mock the cold fear that now gripped the survivors.

The first blood had been spilled. The island had claimed its first victim. And it wouldn’t be the last.