Page 143 of Lost Paradise

When we first got stranded on this island, with danger lurking around every corner and dissent high among us, he had to show his strength and prove his capability as a leader. I know because I challenged him several times. But he didn’t do it the way I expected. He didn’t rely on violence or fear to keep us in line. Instead, he led with a sense of responsibility, with a quiet strength that commanded respect rather than demanded it.

It makes me think of lions, the fiercest creatures in the world. They rule their pride not through sheer brutality but through a combination of strength and responsibility. A lion's roar might be terrifying, but it’s their protective nature and the way they care for their pride that truly defines their leadership. Foster is like that—he has the strength to protect us, but he uses it wisely, with an underlying sense of duty and compassion.

I realized that the world isn’t as black and white as I once thought. Strength doesn’t always mean being the most feared; sometimes, it means being the most dependable.

Foster’s vulnerability is his power. It’s what makes us trust him and what makes us follow him despite the odds. He’s not perfect, but he’s genuine, and that’s something my father could never understand.

Byron moves to gather his things, and the others follow suit, making sure we have everything we need for the trip. The sun hangs low in the sky, a reminder that we don’t have much time.

I grab onto Eve’s wrist and gently tug her back, watching the others walk across the sand towards camp.

“What?” she asks, turning to look at me with a curiousexpression.

“What do you say you and I christen this boat before it sets sail?” I raise my eyebrows suggestively, a playful smile tugging at my lips.

She lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Astro the perv,” she teases, rolling her eyes. “Can’t keep it in your pants for two seconds, can you?”

She wiggles out of my grip, but I catch a playful glint in her eyes as she turns to head back to camp. I watch the sway of her hips, feeling a surge of desire. That sexy arse of her swings like a freaking pendulum as she steps barefoot through the sand.

Damn. She’s breathtakingly hot.

“Hey!” I call after her, unable to resist. “You’ve upgraded me from criminal to perv! Besides, you know I can never resist a chance to enjoy the elements with my nudist tendencies!”

She turns around, giving me a look that’s a mix of amusement and something deeper. Our eyes meet, and I see a spark of desire flicker in hers before she continues on her way.

She’s something else. I bite my knuckles to keep my thoughts—and my growing stiffie—in check.

By the time we're ready to depart, the sun is at its strongest in the mid-morning sky, casting a brilliant glow over the island. We gather our supplies and double-check everything we’ll need for the hike to the abandoned facility.

"Foster, you sure we're good to go?" I call out, glancing over the provisions one last time.

He nods, his expression focused. "Everything's secure. We should aim to return before sunset, or at least by dusk."

Foster kisses Eve and whispers something private to her that none of us hear. It’s a brief yet tender moment that speaks volumes of their unspoken connection. His touch lingers, a silent promise of return amidst the uncertainty of our mission.

Byron hugs Eve tightly before surprising her with a long, illicit kiss. There's a hint of mischief in his eyes, a silent understanding of the risks we face. There’s always going to be unexpected danger, especially when the group is split up like this.

I step forward with a grin, unable to resist teasing her. With a playful smack on her arse, I addwith amusement, "I'll be thinking of you, Princess." It's a lighthearted comment that belies the seriousness of our situation, a reminder that even in the face of danger, we cling to moments of fun and connection.

Eve rolls her eyes with a laugh, a mixture of exasperation and fondness in her expression. Rather than pull away like she usually does, she collides with me and smacks my face with her lips. I hold her tight against me.

“I’m the woman who dreamed of meeting a prince but instead fell in love with the misunderstood villain,” she murmurs into my lips.

Fuck me if that ain’t the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.

“Come back safe and sound,” she adds, her eyes darting around my face almost as if she’s etching me into her brain.

“You know I always will,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside me.

Foster grabs the two bags left for him and swings them over his shoulders. He joins us, his expression resolute but tired. He gives a curt nod, and we set off towards the facility, the jungle closing in around us as we move.

The path is familiar yet treacherous, the overgrown vegetation hiding potential dangers. We move cautiously, each step a reminder of the risks we face.

It’s closer to noon, but by the time we view the facility looming ahead, its metal walls are in stark contrast to the vibrant life of the jungle.

Inside, the air is thick with dust and the lingering scent of decay. The documents, film reels, and VHS tapes are still there, waiting for us. Byron and I set to work, gathering everything into a pile outside the makeshift stove Byron and Jack had constructed to cook the oil.

Foster takes the coconut husks we collected from one of the bags to use as tinder for a fire. Due to the humidity, it’s always challenging to find dried foliage in a tropical environment. He starts shredding the husks and throws them into where we intend to start the fire.

---