Page 66 of Worshiping Faith

They’re coming back.

I don’t let myself think about what that means. Who is coming back? Who’s still standing? Who isn’t?

Instead, I focus on moving. One foot in front of the other. Get inside. Be where Dax expects me to be. It’s not about pretending I’ve been here all along. We don’t play that game. I just don’t want him panicking if I’m not where he left me.

I reach the block and swipe Sinclair’s card at the door and a hand clamps around my wrist.

Fast. Strong.

I whip around, heart hammering, body tensing to fight.

“That’s how you’ve been getting in and out.”

It’s Wilkes.

He’s alive.

I don’t think. I just grab him, and pull him in, clutching him like he’s the last solid thing in the world.

Blood. It’s warm, sticky, fresh, smearing against my hands, my clothes, everywhere.

I jerk back, eyes flying over him, searching.

“Are you hurt?” My breath is ragged, sharp.

His hands land on my arms, steadying me, grounding me. “No,” he says. Firm. No hesitation.

My lungs shudder with relief, but I’m not done. “Dax?”

“He’s good,” Wilkes says, his voice clipped, controlled. “Trip. Zachs. All good. Securing things.”

I sway slightly, my body caught between relief and exhaustion. “You came to…”

“Make sure you’re good.”

I still. The weight of his words presses into me, unexpected and heavy.

He could’ve been anywhere. With Dax, locking down the docks, fortifying the yard. But he came here.

For me.

My chest tightens.

I look up at him, his face etched with exhaustion, smeared with blood, but his eyes, his eyes are locked on me.

Not the block. Not the men. Me.

I swallow, my throat suddenly tight. “I’m good,” I murmur, but my voice softens in a way I don’t expect.

His gaze flicks to my hand. Sinclair’s pass card, still clutched tight. “You earned that,” he says, his voice lower now. Rough. Intimate.

Too intimate.

He takes a step closer. The air shifts. “Put it away,” he says, watching me. Feeling me. “And get inside.”

The command in his tone sends a shiver down my spine.

I nod once, shoving the card back in my pocket.

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