Page 61 of Faith Among Monsters

Dax would be proud.

Or pissed.

Either way, there’s no time to think about it.

I wipe the blade on his sleeve and turn back to the fight.

Before I step out, I grab the rifle. It’s heavier than I expect, its weight solid against my shoulder as I sling the strap across my chest. My fingers are sticky with blood, warm, thick, and drying too fast. I wipe them on my pants, but it only smears, the scent of iron clinging to me.

Footsteps.

Fast.

I whip around, pistol raised. “Say something or I’ll shoot you.”

“Faith, Jesus,” Wilkes’ voice, sharp buthisagain. Less cold, more grounded. Still edged in something raw. He skids into the doorway, breathing hard, eyes cutting straight to me.

His expression changes in an instant. “Are you hit?” He crosses the space fast, hands skimming over me,searching. His touch is brisk, clinical, over my arms, my side, my stomach, checking every place I’m smeared in blood.

I shrug back before he can go further. “It’s not mine. That’s his.” I nod toward the body, my voice flat. “I’m fine. Crazy, apparently, but I cleared the roof.”

Wilkes lets out a short, breathless laugh. “Leave the crazy to Zachs, he’s more practiced.”

Then—he hugs me.

It’s so fast, sounexpected,I freeze.

For one stupid, disorienting second, I feel the solid weight of him, the sheer relief in it, then I shove him back,hard.

“Hands off,” I snap, breath sharp. “And don’t you ever,ever, call me a bitch again and sound like you mean it.”

Wilkes blinks, taken aback, then grins. Not a smirk, not mockery, just that rare, easy grin like he’s impressed as hell.

Before he can answer, Zachs strides in, all casual swagger, eyes already on the body. He gives a low whistle. “Nice work.”

I shoot him a glare. “Did Dax answer yet? Trip?”

“Let’s just skate right past the fact that you sliced and diced ol’ fuckwit here.” He gestures to the dead sniper, shaking his head like he’s truly impressed. Then he flashes that unsettling, too-wide grin. “You’re gonna fit right in, doll.”

I don’t have time to unpack that, because Wilkes straightens, rolling his shoulders.

“Let’s go get Dax and Trip. Heard gunfire inside.”

I nod, throat tightening.

No time to celebrate.

No time to think about what I just did.

I holster my pistol, adjust the rifle strap across my chest, and follow them back out into the warzone.

Chapter Twenty

Dax

I can’t see straight as Trip and I push through the open doors. My head is too full of Faith, of Zachs’ weird-ass tone. He doesn’t rattle. If he couldn’t say outright that the roof was secure, it wasn’t fucking zombies he was worried about.

Inside, the lights flicker, stuttering against the blood-slick floor. Bodies are piled up, twisted wrong, some still twitching, some not. The stink of death is thick.

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