<h4>Chapter 1152: Chapter 1152</h4>


    The night passed without incident, but none of them slept well. Even those who curled against Jude’s body, Ste tucked under one arm, Sophie pressed to his chest, and Zoey wrapped around his back, shifted often in their sleep. Emma was the only one who took watch, sitting cross-legged near the fire with her knife drawn, eyes flicking to the treeline at every sound.


    When morning came, they moved slower than usual. There was no hunting party. No eager gathering of fruits or fish. Just a quiet understanding between them all that something was off, and none of them had the strength to say it out loud yet. The air was still, heavy with humidity that clung to their skin like invisible vines. The birdsong that usually filled the dawn was nearly silent.


    Jude stepped away from the cluster of bodies and wandered toward the river. It was his habit, a routine that made him feel like something was still normal. He knelt at the edge, watching the current, letting the cold water run over his fingers. When he looked up, Rose was already there.


    She didn’t speak. She just watched him with that soft expression, her hair falling over one shoulder, lips slightly parted, like she’d woken from a dream she hadn’t quite left. Jude rose slowly and reached for her hand.


    "Still feels strange, doesn’t it?" he asked.


    She nodded. "It’s not over. We all feel it."


    He pulled her gently into his arms, wrapping her against him. She didn’t resist, but her fingers slid under the hem of his shirt, tracing his spine. Her mouth pressed to his neck.


    Despite the unease, his body responded to hers like it always did, eager, warm, familiar. They kissed by the river, soft at first, then deeper, her hands tugging at his clothes while his slipped beneath hers, fingers tracing skin that felt too warm for morning. She whispered his name like it was a secret, and when he pressed her down into the soft moss near the edge of the bank, she let him with a moan.


    Their bodies met with a slow, aching rhythm that was more desperate than romantic. Jude held her tightly as if that could anchor him. As if that could make the dread go away. She clung to him the same way, whispering things he couldn’t quite hear between the kisses and the trembling of her breath.


    Afterward, theyy there tangled, her breath against his chest, his heart pounding too fast.


    "You feel it too," she said softly.


    "Yes."


    She didn’t borate. She didn’t need to.


    When they returned to the others, the mood hadn’t changed. The wives were gathered near the fire, their movements quiet and distracted. Susan was brushing Lucy’s hair. Natalie sat with Grace, leaning her head on her shoulder. La was curled in Scarlet’sp. It all looked normal, but there was something in their eyes. A shared silence. A mutual nce. Jude could see it clearly now.


    They’d all seen the thing.


    He hadn’t told anyone. Neither had Rose. Neither had La, or Zoey, or Sophie, or Emma.


    But they were all acting the same. As if pretending nothing had happened would make it true.


    That evening, Zoey came to him.


    She stood barefoot at the edge of his shelter, arms crossed, hair loose and wild.


    "I saw it again," she said.


    His chest tightened. "What did you see?"


    "Same thing you did. Don’t pretend otherwise." She stepped closer. "I thought it was a mirage the first time. Then the second time I thought I was dreaming. But I’m not."


    Jude nodded slowly. "Me too."


    She exhaled. "It’s real."


    He reached out and took her hand, tugging her into his arms. She rested her forehead against his shoulder.


    "Do the others know?" he asked.


    She nodded. "They’re not talking about it. But they know."


    The next day passed in much the same way, quiet, careful, filled with unspoken fear. They stayed close to camp. No one wandered far. The air felt charged. Even the fire crackled louder than usual, like it was trying to keep something at bay.


    When night came, theyy together again, all of them, his twelve wives, clinging to him and each other in a tight circle. The intimacy was still there, still present in the soft touches, the whispered words, the kisses that turned slower and more meaningful. But the passion was more restrained. Their bodies burned for him, but there was something else in their eyes. Watchfulness.


    As they drifted into uneasy sleep, Jude stayed awake again.


    And far across the trees, in the space where the mist used to be, the same shadow shifted between branches. Watching. Waiting.


    And for the first time, he knew with certainty: it was no longer curious.


    It was hungry.


    The fire had nearly burned to embers when Jude opened his eyes. The night was still thick, the stars muffled by a haze of drifting clouds. Around him, the bodies of his wives breathed gently in sleep, some curled against him, others wrapped around one another in a tangle of limbs and warmth. But his chest was tight. Something had changed in the darkness. He sat up slowly, trying not to disturb anyone, but Sophie stirred beside him anyway.


    Her eyes opened without surprise. "You feel it too."


    He nodded. "It’s closer."


    She sat up, ncing toward the trees. The woods stood silent, shadows unmoving, but the stillness wasn’t peaceful. It was waiting. Jude rose to his feet, and Sophie followed, neither speaking, both pulling on shirts and stepping away from the sleeping circle.


    They didn’t need to go far. Just past the edge of the firelight, something moved.


    Not loud.


    Not sudden.


    Just deliberate.


    A flicker of shape between two trees. A shadow that should not have been there. It did not advance, but it didn’t hide either. It simply stood. And this time, there was no denying what they saw.


    Long limbs.


    Too thin.