My legs pumped furiously, sneakers slamming against the polished tile as I burst out of the mall's side entrance. Sweat plastered my hair to my forehead, the Rolex suddenly heavy as shackle iron around my wrist. Someone here still owns their flesh. Sydney’s furious snarl echoed in my skull. Fumbling for my phone, I jammed my thumb against the screen, pulling up the group chat. Breath ragged, I typed, hands shaking:

Jason: GUYS FOUND SYDNEY IN THE MALL SHE’S NOT HUMAN SHE WAS FUCKING SOME GUY WHO TALKED ABOUT “MEATSUITS” AND —

My thumb hovered over send. Panic warred with logic. Trisha would dismiss it as Nate-level horniness. Jade would ask if he tasted alien. Kaori would look disappointed. And Nate? Nate would believe every terrifying word. He’d burst into the mall demanding proof, shouting about extraterrestrial MILFs. He’d draw Sydney straight to us. Delete. Delete. DELETE. My apology to the mall floor felt like nothing compared to that raw, primal snarl. Instead, I sucked in a shaky breath and typed again, forcing my fingers steady.

Jason: Mall was… expensive. You guys find anything interesting out there?

The replies pinged back instantly, jarringly normal against the terror thumping in my chest.

Nate: OMFG yes. Met this SOUL-CRUSHINGLY hot South Korean baddie at the nude beach. Literally statuesque. She was admiring my tan lines (or lack thereof lol). Things escalated. FAST. In a cabana. But THEN this absolute beast shows up claiming to be her BF and tells me to STEP OFF. Talk about cock-blocked by the cosmos. Still, worth the view 😉

Kaori: NATHANIEL! That’s DISGUSTING! You let that poor girl cheat on her boyfriend?! Some people value loyalty, you baka no orokamono!
There was a pause, then another ping.
Kaori: But… my surf instructor did point out a dolphin following our board. It was cute. Very shiny.

Jade’s response wasn't text. It was a rapid-fire barrage – twelve photos filling the chat in quick succession. Close-ups of glistening Wagyu beef sliders, towering pastel-colored shaved ice mountains dusted with gold leaf, skewers of fire-kissed tropical fruits, and a platter of raw oysters bigger than my fist. Jade: Breakfast-Lunch-Post-Lunch-Pre-Dinner-Mid-Dinner-Snack 😎 I stared. Jade ate like a Viking warlord with a metabolic superpower. How she stayed a lean, lethal curve in that little black dress? Utterly unfair.

Trisha’s name popped up with a single checkmark – message seen. No typing dots. Nothing. Probably deep in some jungle ravine, sweating buckets under that complicated braid. No service. The thought should have been reassuring, a clean explanation. But Sydney’s red-trimmed eyes, scanning the darkness where I'd hidden, flickered against the cheerful banter on my screen. The sun beat down, but a shiver colder than the deepest ocean trench crawled up my spine. They were laughing about dolphins and oysters and near-naked encounters with beauty. And I? I was walking away from the mall with the sickening certainty that Spooky Island’s terrifying secret rested not in folklore, but in the sweat-slick skin of a Hollywood star grinding on a borrowed body. The Rolex suddenly felt less like treasure and more like a homing beacon.