Page 64 of Worshiping Faith

A blur of coiled muscle and madness, his blade already slicing deep, dragging across the man’s throat with savage, unrestrained glee.

The body spasms, shuddering violently, and Zachs clings to him, rides him down to the deck like he’s enjoying the slow collapse.

Then he’s up, fluid, a smear of blood across his cheekbone, and I see it.

That smile.

The kind of wild, feral grin that would terrify anyone who didn’t know him.

But I do. I know him now.

Get them, you crazy fucker.

Zachs grabs the lifeless body, drags it toward the edge, and hurls it overboard like trash.

My pulse thrums.

They have this. They’re a force together.

But where the hell are Dax and Wilkes?

Zachs jumps over the edge of the boat.

A scream lodges in my throat, clawing to get free. My whole body snaps upright, every muscle locking.

What the hell is he doing?!

I fumble with the binoculars, my hands suddenly useless, shaking. I can barely hold them steady as I scan the water.

Nothing.

Where is he? Where the fuck is he?

My pulse is a wild drumbeat in my ears, drowning out everything else. The distant hum of the ships, the murmurs of the men on the wall, none of it matters. All I can think about is the black water swallowing him whole.

And Trip. Trip doesn’t even move. Doesn’t react.

My breath comes too fast, too sharp. He’s not diving in after him. He’s not even looking over the damn railing.

Why? Why the fuck isn’t he helping?!

I scan the water again, frantic now, my heart hammering against my ribs.

There. Movement.

A shadow against the waves, something slick and fast, cutting through the dark.

Zachs.

He’s crawling onto the little boat, our boat.

I exhale so hard my vision spots.

I want to smack the hell out of him. Want to grab him, shake him, scream in his face for scaring me like that. The relief is so violent I almost don’t process what happens next.

The boat moves. It speeds ahead, cutting through the black water toward the main dock.

And behind it, the big ship moves too.

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