Page 51 of Faith Among Monsters

A laugh bubbles up in my throat. It’s sharp, ugly. Almost unhinged.

Not the blowjob he had in mind.

Shots echo in the distance.

For a second, I think they’re ghosts, an aftershock of what I’ve just done. The crack of the gun, the way Sinclair’s body jerked, the scent of blood and burned gunpowder still thick in my nose.

Then I hear another round, closer. Real. Immediate.

I’ve got to get out of here. Shit. The doors are locked.

I shove the gun in my waistband, drop to my knees beside Sinclair, and start stripping him down like a vulture. His pockets, his belt, anything clipped to him, I take it all.

A key. A pass card. A second knife tucked near his boot. Anything that might be useful to Dax.

When I stand, I turn—

And my heart stops.

Zachs.

He’s leaning in the doorway, casual as hell, eyes flicking from Sinclair’s corpse, pants around his ankles, brains painting the ceiling, back to me.

His smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it deepens. “Come on,” he says, voice smooth as silk.

My hand moves toward my waist.

His brows pinch in something like disappointment. “Doc, seriously? Let’s get the fuck out of here before anyone else stumbles in.”

My brain stalls.

I should move. Run. Follow. Shoot. Something. But I don’t know what the hell he is to me yet. I grip the gun tighter and point it at his chest. “You…”

“Came to save the day.” His tone is light. Too light. He nods at Sinclair. “Sorry I was late. Wilkes and Dax are in the armory. There are still loyal guards on the island. Let’s go.”

I don’t move.

My pulse is roaring in my ears, drowning out everything but the moment hanging between us. Trust him or kill him.

“Touch me,” I say, “And I’ll blow your brains out.”

His lips twitch. Then, a dimple.

A fucking dimple. Who the hell is this guy?

He gestures to the hall like this is just another Tuesday. “After you.”

I should kill him.

I should.

Instead, I step past him into the hall, keeping my eyes on him the whole time. “What happened to the other guards?” I ask.

“I shot them.” His tone is matter-of-fact. Like he’s listing groceries.

I don’t react fast enough before he adds, “Stabbed two. Shot the rest.”

“Oh.”Oh. I try to sound casual, unaffected. I fail. “How did you shoot a whole room of armed guards?”

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