Chapter 45
Jordan
I’ve been broken and reformed, all of my pieces coming back together. Kate is snuggled against me, lightly snoring into the crook of my neck as my fingertips skate across her skin. Being close to her, being intimate in a new way, has helped knit an old wound back together.
I’m not fully healed, and doubt I ever will be, but feeling safe enough to experience this makes me hold her tighter and never want to let go.
Even as nerves spark across my skin about that inevitable separation.
I’ll have to leave her, even if it’s only for a short while.
The beast paces back and forth in my mind, mirroring my reluctance.
My arms wrap tightly around her, holding her to me. She stirs, her arms moving to press against me. I look down at her to find her forest eyes open, taking me in. Assessing.
“Hello.” Her voice is still thick with sleep.
The corners of my lips quirk. “Hello.”
She blinks a few times before giving me a hesitant smile. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better,” I murmur, doing a quick mental check of my injuries. “I do actually think I’m healed enough to move now.”
“I don’t mean like that,” she counters, eyes growing concerned. “I meant after…”
Ah. I clear my throat. “I enjoyed it.”
What an understatement.
“We don’t have to do that all the time,” she argues, pulling back a bit. “Or ever again, if you don’t want to. I don’t want you thinking that you need to change—”
I stop her stream of consciousness by kissing her. She leans into the kiss until I break contact to repeat against her lips, “I enjoyed it, but it won’t be something we do regularly.”
She nods. “Whatever you prefer.”
I nearly drop my entire plan to let her go right then and there. Having her accept me, my needs, is more than I could have expected.
Our gazes hold each other for a moment, both of us stuck in our own world, before she blinks and shuffles up, breaking the spell.
“If you’re sure you’re healed, I’ll check the stitches again.”
Licking my lips, I sit up, observing her as she gets her supplies ready.
My wounds have healed nicely, thanks to Kate’s quick and skilled hands, so we pack up our camp and head back into the dark and damp underground. The stench of rotting flesh nearly makes me gag, and I have to pull my shirt over my nose as an attempt to shield myself.
“We must be close to the stalker’s lair,” Kate grits out beside me, face contorted in disgust. “The smell is terrible.”
I grunt, unable to breathe deeply enough to form words. We keep moving, even as the smell becomes unbearable. Turning a corner, we finally reach where the stalker consumed its victims.
Bodies in various stages of decomposition litter the hall, the tiles stained red. Piles of discarded bodies, limbs missing, chunks of flesh removed—
The walls close in on me, the sounds of infected snarling, writhing in a confined space—
Kate softly clears her throat next to me, bringing me back. “Let’s go, Jordan.” Her voice is soft yet firm.
I look over at her, and relief nearly floods my system. I’m with her, where I’m meant to be. Even if the time we have together is slowly running out.
I reach for her hand, interlocking our fingers, and turn from the bodies.
With each step, the horror recedes, letting in air that’s stale, but at least not carrying the scent of dead bodies.
We double back, taking the way we came in, hoping not to run into any raiders now that a few days have passed.
We follow the path, our fingers still interlaced as we pass the old storefronts with no signs of trouble.
Eventually, we reach a stairwell, light trickling down from above. “Is this the one?” I ask.
Kate hums next to me as we ascend. “It’s one of the only entrances still open. It’s on the border of a safe zone, but still in raider territory, which is probably why it hasn’t been closed.”
We crouch on the top steps, keeping ourselves low so as to not be seen from the street. I lift my head slightly to see any enemies.
My eyes immediately lock on three men about a block ahead, lazily standing around. “Raiders, straight ahead,” I tell her.
She eases up next to me to get a look. Kate takes a sharp inhale as she observes the small group of raiders.
“I know them,” she growls. “They’re the ones who killed Sal. I can’t believe they made it back here alive.”
Indeed.
She moves to stand, her hand already on her gun, when I grip her arm and pull her back down beside me. “You can’t just go out there.”
“Why not? I want them dead.” The anger on her face could light this entire city on fire.
A thrill runs up my spine. “We’ll kill them,” I promise, “but we need a plan.”
As expected, her curiosity brings her back to herself. She looks me over, eyes still warm with righteous embers as she asks, “And what plan would that be?”
I don’t stop the wicked smile that glides across my face.