Page 70 of Faith Among Monsters

“Close,” Zachs singsongs, already cutting through two more with his knife.

Wilkes fires behind me. Trip drops another.

Faith, my fucking Faith, spins toward one lunging at her, gun raised. Shoots. Perfect. Clean. Right through the forehead.

We tighten around her. Form the wall. We are not losing her.

“Got your ass!” someone shouts.

Preston.

Son of a bitch.

The last of the zombies drop. The air still feels wrong.

Then Preston and the other two, the lapdog and the inmate, step in, their weapons pointed but not raised. Covering our backs.

A shiver crawls up my spine.

“There’s a problem with the getaway?” Wilkes asks, casual as hell.

“Yeah, some dipshit tried to hotwire it and fucked it up,” Preston says.

“Zachs, you go this?” Wilkes asks.

Zachs barely spares him a glance. “Boats?” He huffs. “Not me, boss.” His eyes flick to Faith, checking her. Then back to Wilkes.

Trip steps forward. “I’ll fix it.”

I don’t know if he can, but I like the confidence in his voice.

More importantly, so does Preston.

Trip moves toward the ignition like he knows what the hell he’s doing. Maybe he does. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

Because I see it.

Preston’s eyes. The promise there.

The second that engine roars to life, we’re fucking dead.

I scan the dock. The direction we came from. No monsters. Not the dead kind.

No, all the monsters are right fucking here. In arms’ reach of my Faith.

Zachs’ gaze is ricocheting again. That flickering madness, like he’s calculating something completely insane.

I narrow my eyes at him. Not yet.

Wilkes shifts, subtly maneuvering the lapdog away from the rest of us. Creating space.

Then Preston’s attention snaps to Faith.

My trigger finger twitches.

Preston is the only one who needs to die. The other two? They’ll fold like cheap fucking chairs.

The second he realizes it, that we all know how this ends, his expression changes. He knows. He’s an asshole, not an idiot.

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