Page 34 of Worshiping Faith

“What about Jinx?” I ask, needing just a second more before I seal this.

Dax doesn’t let go. “Zachs is here.”

A statement. Not reassurance.

I still don’t look away from Zachs.

His hands are still stained red, his chest rising too slow, too measured, like he’s waiting for something, for me.

For my verdict.

I swallow.

And then I crane my head up, press my lips to Dax’s jaw.

His stubble scrapes against my mouth, solid, real.

“It might be best to bring Quince here under false pretenses,” I murmur, my voice steadier than I feel. “So you don’t draw attention. In case there are more.”

Zachs breathes. A sharp inhale. Like the air had been locked in his chest this whole time.

Like my choice just set him free.

Choice made.

I’m keeping him.

Chapter Eight

Faith

“In a cell, Jinx,” Zachs says.

Jinx doesn’t hesitate. He backs into a cell fast, slamming the door shut himself, like he’s terrified of being out here with Zachs.

I don’t blame him.

“Do we still have blankets in here? Pillows?” I ask, trying to focus on something else.

Zachs steps out of the cell, wiping his hands on his pants like he wants to get every last trace of blood off him. “We’re not doing it here.” His voice is flat, but his disgust is obvious. “No way.”

I blink. For a second, I’m caught off guard by how offended he is by the idea.

Hell, Dax and I did it against the wall in here. But there wasn’t a dead body on the floor back then.

My stomach drops. The guards had cameras here. They watched us on their monitors. Had Zachs? I shake off the thought. Not now.

“I meant for Jinx,” I say, clearing my throat. “He needs to sleep it off.”

Zachs barely glances at Jinx. “Jinx is fine, aren’t you?”

Jinx nods too fast, pressing himself into the corner of the cell. “Yeah, man. I’m good. Solid.” He looks anything but.

“Get him blankets if you have some,” I say. “Or tell me where they are.”

Zachs exhales and moves past me without a word.

I still don’t know what to say about what I just witnessed.

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