Page 89 of Worshiping Faith

Bullet went clean through my calf.

Didn’t even notice in the heat of it.

Now, though, it’s catching up.

The ache, deep and throbbing.

Feels like something took a hot iron and dragged it through the muscle.

I flex my foot. Tendon’s fine. I can move.

But every time I shift my weight, the wound burns, radiating up into my knee.

Pain’s crashin’ in.

I roll my shoulders, shake it off.

No fucking way I’m limping.

Not in front of Irish.

Not in front of any of these pricks.

I grab the nearest crate, hoist it up.

Weight pushes into the wound. Fire licks up my leg.

I grit my teeth and keep moving.

I’ll deal with it when the work’s done.

Or when someone notices.

Either way…

Not. Fucking. Yet.

Chapter Twenty

Faith

“Faith,” Jinx calls again, his voice weaker this time, raw and pleading.

Wilkes holds me pinned in his glare.

I feel the weight of it, the unspoken warning.

“He’s sick, Wilkes,” I say softly.

“Tend to him,” he replies. Thenot so fucking friendlyisn’t said. It doesn’t have to be.

I turn away, stepping into Jinx’s room.

“How’s that fever? You kick its ass yet?” I ask, moving to the small table to pour him a fresh glass of water.

His skin is pale, too pale. Sweat clings to his forehead, dampening the hair at his temples.

His body trembles as I help him sit, his muscles weak, barely cooperating. A soft groan slips past his lips, more from exhaustion than pain.

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