Page 49 of Worshiping Faith

Not turned back. Not leaving.

Zachs popped three, and now they’re just sitting there, waiting. Calculating. Never a good sign.

I scan the yard, my gaze sweeping between the towers, the walls, the shadows.

Something darts across a shadow near the med wing.

I narrow my eyes.

The actual fuck now?

I start toward it, hand already tightening into a fist. These idiots got no sense of self-preservation, making more work for me when I need to be focused on the real threat.

I close in, reach out to snatch the bastard by the throat…

And stop cold.

“Faith?”

She freezes mid-stride, caught dead to rights.

My fist clenches. “What are you doing? I locked you in.”

She crosses her arms, eyes too damn smug for someone caught breaking orders. “Yeah? And you, Dax, and Zachs have all tried that before. How’d that work out for you?”

Christ. Fair point.

A maximum-security prison couldn’t hold her if she set her mind to something.

I exhale through my nose, patience threadbare. “What are you doing?”

“Jinx,” she starts, and then, she tells me.

Every word knocks the ammo out of my magazine.

The experiments. The shots. The fucking bites.

“Fuck.” It’s the only thing I manage. I don’t waste another second. “Let’s go.”

I unlock the door to the med wing, not that a fucking lock would’ve kept her out.

“What do you need?” I ask as she moves to the cabinets.

I watch.

This is the same Faith I saw the night Dax was shot.

No panic. No hesitation. All business.

This is the Faith that I…

Shit.

She rattles off a list, and I move, grabbing supplies.

We shove everything into a sack, and I sling it over my shoulder. Now what?

My mind races as we head back toward the block.

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