Page 33 of Ghosts of the Dead

“No. You’re judging me. Even though I’ve stayed away from other people for a whole year now. How dare I show even an ounce of compassion?” My good hand fists by my side, digging my nails into my palm.

His shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t deny it.

I take a step back. “What about you, Jace? What sort of women do you go after? You bark orders, keep your distance, and watch like you’re guarding something. You’ve got more walls than I’ve ever imagined possible. Are you only drawn to women you can boss around who won’t push back? I didn’t realize the rotter-pocalypse became a dating show. I’m dealing with actual shit here, in case you missed it.”

His mouth sets into a grim line, and his voice lowers. “This isn’t about me.”

“Oh, I think it is. You said it yourself. Comfort turns dangerous, right?”

His jaw clenches, and he rubs his scar. “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one with shit going on.”

My voice softens, even though I still think he deserves my full wrath. “How did you get your scar, Jace?”

His eyes flick up, then he turns his back on me. “I’ve got shit to do.”

He slips through the large chunk missing in the wall and walks away.

I watch him retreat, frustration and questions churning inside me. And beneath it all…something else I don’t want to name.

Voices carry over from the other guys buried in conversation, oblivious to whatever went down here.

And I’m left wondering if the most haunted man in this group is the one too stubborn to admit it—or too afraid I’ll see through him.

By the timeI return to the others, the plan is already in motion.

The guys have decided to split up and start scouting for signs, clues, or even for people wearing that same strange fabric. We need to see if these symbols match, and find out what’s going on. We can’t afford to waste more time.

They tell me we’ll break into pairs to cover more ground, but if we find something, we’re to come back to regroup before engaging.

Somehow, I end up with Jace. No one will admit whose idea it was.

Caspian and Mars are already disappearing east, moving in sync like they’ve done this a thousand times. I’m still watching them when Jace gives a sharp nod west — silent, as usual, even when giving directions.

As we gear up to leave, movement catches my eye.

A flash of brown and black fur between the trees.

“Luna…”

She’s half-hidden behind a thick oak, watching us with those amber eyes. For a moment, our gazes lock, and I swear she recognizes me. I think she’s going to come closer.

But when Jace shifts beside me, Luna turns and melts back into the shadows, gone as quietly as she appeared.

“Luna,” I call softly, but there’s no response.

“What’s going on?” Jace asks, scanning the area I stare at.

“There’s this dog... Never mind.”

I fall into step beside him as we head west. Toward the shell of the old train station.

The structure looms ahead like a dying cathedral, pillars of steel jutting crooked through the earth. The stairwells are mostly gone, leaving behind twisted remnants of rebar and concrete slabs that make every step more cautious. Rusted benches lean under the burden of ivy that’s begun to eat the ruins whole.

A trio of vultures pick at a decaying carcass in the shadows of what used to be the ticket counter. I force myself to look away before I can tell if it’s human or not.

We approach the weathered sign Jace spotted earlier. Up close, the symbol is clear. A faded sunburst design advertising some rail company that’s been long dead. Nothing like the jagged arc we found on the fabric. I dig my nails into my palm in frustration.

“Doesn’t match,” Jace says, stepping closer to study it.

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