Page 22 of Faith Among Monsters

My feet hit the floor, my focus shifting to the door.

“Dax!” The voice is strained. Panicked.

Quince.

Another pop echoes, louder this time. Then a knock, hard and rapid.

“On the way,” I bark, yanking my shirt over my head.

She’s pulling her shirt on as I fling the door open.

Quince is there, wide-eyed and breathing hard, sweat dripping down his temples.

“Talk,” I order, grabbing my boots and slipping them on as fast as my hands will move.

Behind me, I feel Faith’s eyes on us, her presence pressing at the edges of my focus like a live wire.

“Pauly,” Quince starts, his voice trembling. “He went nuts. In the yard. Bit Felix and Mutt. Turned on Henderson.”

“Bit them?” I demand, narrowing my eyes. Pauly’s unstable, sure, but what the hell? “He was sick…”

“Didn’t just bite them, Dax,” Quince cuts me off, his voice sharper, his panic bleeding through. He glances at Faith andhesitates, then shifts uncomfortably before adding, “He gnawed Mutt’s throat, ripped out his guts, man. Like an animal. It was…”

I’m stunned for half a second, my mind spinning. That’s not sick. That’ssomething else.

“Give me your knife,” I snap, holding out my hand.

Quince doesn’t argue. He pulls the blade from his belt and slaps it into my palm.

I turn to Faith, holding the knife out to her. “You know how to work one of these?”

She nods, but her face is pale, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Another pop, closer this time, the sharp crack of gunfire splitting the air.

“Give me your pistol,” I say.

Quince hesitates for the briefest moment before handing it over. His hands are shaking now, but he slings his rifle back up, readying himself.

I grip the pistol, my mind spinning through the possibilities.Leave her? Take her?Another volley of gunfire echoes down the hall, and that option’s gone.Shit.

I grab her shoulder, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Wait here,” I say, my voice low and commanding. “Don’t open this door for anyone but me. If anyone comes in, stab them. I don’t give a shit if they’re in uniform or not.”

She swallows hard, her throat bobbing, but she nods. Her hand grips the knife, her knuckles white.

“Faith,” I add, softening my tone just slightly, “I mean it. Don’t hesitate. You stab them, you gut them, whatever it takes. Do you understand me?”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she nods again, more firmly this time.

I brush past Quince, stepping into the hallway. The air feels heavier now, thick with tension, every muscle in my body coiledas I prepare for what’s coming. Whatever’s out there, whatever the hell Pauly’s gotten into, it’s not getting anywhere near her.

The yard is a hellish blend of chaos and unsettling calm. The silent breeze off the sea clashes with the grunts, snarls, and rapid bursts of gunfire echoing off the concrete walls. It doesn’t make sense, none of it. My pulse pounds as I flip the safety off my pistol, moving low and fast through the shadows, trying to gauge what the fuck is happening.

Quince hangs back near the exit, his rifle slung low and his knuckles white around the grip. He’s frozen, no use to anyone. Typical.

A shot rings out. I jerk toward the sound in time to see Victor stagger back, blood blossoming from his shoulder. He barely flinches, his head snapping toward one of the few guards I trust, Wilkes, like the bullet was nothing more than a mosquito bite.

Wilkes fires again, and the shot slams into Victor’s chest, a direct hit, center mass. A kill shot.

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