Grant’s perspective:

Gazing sternly into the thatch ceiling, listening to Emily’s soft breathing as she sleeps away the exhaustion of our silent romp, my thoughts drift back to the crash, the sabotage. Who could it be? Is the answer right in front of me? Was it one of my own? I don’t want to believe it. And what their plans are now, I can’t grasp. I have to get back to my pack.

As my mind drifts, my eyes grow heavy. Until I finally let sleep take ...