Page 15 of Worshiping Faith

“Everything useful from the block is here now,” he says.

It’s going too slow. If shit goes sideways, I don’t want anyone, anyone, having access to our supplies.

And the boat? That’s a fucking problem.

“Med wing?” I ask.

“We’re working with limited numbers,” Wilkes reminds me.

Yeah. Me. Him. Zachs. Trip.

That’s it.

Anyone else gets a whiff of what we’re doing, the stockpiling, the boat, the escape plan, and we’ll be dealing with a riot before the real fight even starts.

Wilkes rolls his shoulders like he’s already expecting bullshit. Like he can read my fucking mind.

“I’ll go on a supply run,” he says. “Scout the mainland. See just how bad shit is over there.”

My jaw tightens.

Risking one of us is a nightmare.

But letting anyone else take the boat?

That’s suicide.

Hell, Wilkes himself might be tempted if it turns out the world isn’t completely fucked. A man could disappear into the chaos, find a way out of this mess for himself.

But he’s still here.

For now.

I exhale slowly, pressing a hand against my shoulder. The wound is throbbing, my body already reminding me I’m not at full capacity.

Faith would lose her shit if she knew how bad it still was.

I roll my neck and meet Wilkes’ gaze. Assessing. Calculating.

If this is how we play it, we need to be sure.

“You think it’s worth the risk?” I ask.

Wilkes doesn’t hesitate. “I think we don’t have a choice.”

Fuck.

He’s right.

“Night vision. Kill the fucking engine pretty far out,” I say. “Take three.”

I don’t have to tell Wilkes who. He knows. Knows exactly who thinks they’re part of our inner circle. Knows exactly who I trust enough to send, and who I don’t.

Of all of us, Wilkes is the most suited for this. The only guard worth a shit. Military background. The kind of man who follows orders, but only because he chooses to.

He adjusts his rifle strap. “You want souvenirs, too?”

“Don’t think about fucking me over,” I warn.

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