No one was released. No redemption. No second chances. No freedom.
They woke up in the house together, wounds still fresh, scars aching, memories burned into them like brands they’d never escape. The island was gone, but the experiment wasn’t over. Instead of prison, instead of death row, instead of the world beyond their punishment, they were forced into this—an attempt at normalcy, a lie wrapped in walls, a cage disguised as a home.
They were expected to live together. Expected to coexist. Expected to forget everything they had done. The killing, the betrayals, the fear, the things they had done to survive. But no one forgot. No one could.
They formed groups immediately, falling into alliances that felt more like fortresses than friendships. K.C. and Moses stayed together, the only ones they truly trusted, carrying the weight of what had been taken from them. Blair and Mason kept close, not out of necessity but because, against all odds, they actually wanted to.
Hayden and Taylor had no one else, forced together by circumstance, not trust. Brody, Donovan, and Cooper were thrown together, unwanted by everyone else, barely tolerating each other for the sake of survival. Chase and her—an understanding, nothing more, no need for words or promises, only the knowledge that they could fight if they had to.
No one spoke about the blood still dried under their nails. No one spoke about the deaths they remembered like nightmares that wouldn’t fade. But the tension crackled in the air, simmering under the surface, waiting for something to snap.
Donovan was obsessed, still latched onto Blair like she was oxygen, like she was his last chance at something real. She despised it. Mason noticed. He saw the way Blair’s hands tensed when Donovan got too close, the way she never looked directly at him, the way she calculated every movement to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.
Mason didn’t like it. He didn’t say it out loud, but Blair knew. Knew by the way he positioned himself between them. Knew by the way his gaze lingered on Donovan, cold, careful, waiting for an excuse.
And Donovan, for all his obsession, was stupid enough not to realize it.
K.C. and Moses had no forgiveness left in them. Cooper had killed Moses, had done it knowing exactly who he was, knowing he was Chase’s husband, knowing it would ruin her and still doing it anyway. Moses didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge him. But K.C. did.
K.C. watched him like something waiting for the right moment to strike. Moses didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t have to. They both knew what would happen if Cooper ever let his guard down.
And this time, neither of them would hesitate.
Brody didn’t forget what Hayden had done. Hayden hadn’t forgotten either, but that didn’t make a difference. He watched her now, quiet, calculating, waiting for the moment she would slip. Waiting for the moment he could repay her in full.
Taylor still felt the phantom weight of missing fingers, the aching reminder of what had been stolen from her. She wasn’t strong enough to navigate this place alone. She knew it, and Hayden knew it. That was why Taylor stayed close.
Because if things fell apart again, she would need Hayden to save her. And Hayden knew she would.
They spoke when they had to. They existed the best they could. They didn’t wait for peace, because they knew better. They didn’t wait for forgiveness, because there was none left to give.
Nothing could erase what had been done.
And none of them could ever pretend they were human again.