SIX
DAKOTA
The upstairs hallway is dark and narrow, the carpet soft with damp under my boots, just like most places. The air smells of old wallpaper, mildew, and the kind of panic I flat-out refuse to believe belongs to me.
Behind us, the Zeds throw themselves at the bottom of the stairs with enough enthusiasm to make the entire house tremble. The floor beneath our feet shudders, and my heart gallops in my chest as though a herd of horses is stampeding right through the caverns of my ribcage.
Just ahead of me, the bathroom door sits slightly ajar at the end of the hall. Inside is one window that will lead to the porch roof. One stupid escape route I planned before accidentally adopting the world’s most inconvenient Alpha known to exist.
Fuck my ever-loving life.
I shove the door open the moment I’m close enough, wrenching the window open with enough force that the pane of glass warbles in the frame.
Annoyingly, the stupid thing sticks halfway up, the wood swollen from the downpour of rain we’ve had over the past few days.
Apparently this house has decided now is the perfect time to develop a post-apocalypse personality, screwing my patience and plans all to hell like it’s just another day.
“Fuck,” I growl, yanking harder. “Come on, you son of a bitch.”
Kaito doesn’t waste a second, rushing in behind me close enough that the scent of him slips under the rot clamoring up the stairs.
Burning wood. Worn flannel. Blood. Alpha.
The combination sneaks under my skin with a comfort I don’t have the time, patience, or emotional capacity to unpack.
So I bottle it and pull harder at the window just as Kaito lifts his arms beside mine.
He’s careful not to touch me, cautious as he asks, “May I?”
The question is so unexpected, catching me so off guard, that I stop fighting with the window long enough to stare at the Alpha. “What?”
“Can I help?” he rushes to say, ignoring the very obvious glare on my face.
I don’t even know if the glare is actually directed at him, the Zeds, or the second situation I’ve found myself in with this damned Alpha.
Either way, Kaito pays it no mind, gesturing to the window just as the Zeds start climbing the stairs.
I hate this man. I hate this house. I hate this fucking world.
“Fine,” I blurt, and Kaito falls into action quickly.
He grips the frame tightly and shoves the window up with one hard push. The wood screams like a bitch, the swollen frame giving way, and the cool evening air spills into the bathroom.
Climbing out first onto the porch roof, I almost lose my balance when my boots slide on the damp shingles.
The drop to the front yard will definitely hurt, but I think it’ll be manageable.
Thankfully, there’s only a narrow gap between the neighboring house that sits close enough that a desperate idiot could jump from one roof to the other.
Historically, I have been known to be that same desperate idiot.
Kaito climbs out behind me, jaw clenched tightly against the pain I know his side is causing. Behind him, the bathroom door rattles as the first Zed hits it. Another shudder as another Zed joins it, and I blow out a steadying breath as I ask, “You can make that jump?”
“Yeah. I got it,” Kaito answers quickly, complexion pale and slightly alarming.
“You keep saying that,” I argue, gesturing quickly to the mess he’s in.
He flashes the briefest smile that looks more like a disguised grimace. “Yet, here I am.”
Saving us another argument, the bathroom door splinters, and waiting becomes a new luxury neither one of us can afford.
I don’t wait a single second longer, falling into a sprint across the porch roof, leaping the gap, and landing hard onto the neighboring roof with a pained grunt as agony races through my knee.
I roll with it, catching myself before I slide too far and topple right off the porch like a fucking idiot.
Then I turn just in time to watch Kaito jump right after me.
For a split second, he looks like he might actually make it cleanly.
I should know better than to think such things, because his wounded side ruins everything a second later.
His boot slips on the edge of the roof and he hits hard, one hand catching the gutter while the rest of his body drops against the side of the house.
“Kaito,” I snap before I can even stop myself, the panic that washes through me rendering me defenseless and stupid.
His gaze flicks up to mine, and something in his eyes looks as though he notices. That’s both interesting and inconvenient, but what the hell is new these days? That’s literally the theme my life has taken since my eyes opened this morning.
“Don’t sound so worried,” he grits out, still dangling against the fucking house.
It angers me like nothing I’ve felt before, and I grind, “I’m not worried. I’m pissed you’ve somehow managed to use gravity wrong.”
“It’s gravity’s fault, not mine. Gravity started it,” he counters, like a toddler tattling on the very thing that’s going to kill him.
The gutter groans under his weight just as Zeds spill out onto the porch roof behind him. They drag themselves through the bathroom window with clumsy eagerness, jaws snapping and dead hands clawing at anything in sight.
If I’m being honest, I have every opportunity to run. It’s actually a very beautiful opportunity, too. Wide open, practically gift-wrapped by the universe with a pretty red bow and a tiny card that says, “Here you go, Kota. Make a good decision for once.”
Apparently, I’m all for defying the universe today, because I grab Kaito’s wrist instead.
His skin is warm beneath my glove. Too warm, his Alpha temperature burning through the material with a heat that doesn’t sting.
The scent of him slams into me harder than a freight train, that same burning wood and worn flannel scent mingled with blood, sweat, Alpha, and something that makes my Omega perk up as though someone just rang a dinner bell and she’s eager to be first in line.
Gritting my teeth, I wrap my fingers tightly around Kaito’s wrist and pull hard.
He helps as much as he can, hauling himself up with a pained groan that sounds like it’s torn from somewhere deep.
For one terrible second, his weight drags me toward the edge, but then he manages to hoist one knee onto the roof.
Together, we drag his body onto the porch before we both roll away from the drop just as the first Zed reaches the gap between houses and falls straight through it.
The crunch of its body is wet, gruesome, horrible, and deeply satisfying.
Rolling onto my back, I pant for air, breathing hard enough that my chest rises and falls rapidly.
Kaito lands next to me, one hand somehow wrapped around my wrist. Neither of us moves for a moment, staring up at the sky that is quickly turning the color of a bruise, purple and blues fading into one another.
Clouds are streaked across the sky, swallowing the dying light as the sun fades after another trying day.
Somewhere below is the sound of snarling Zeds, growling and scraping at siding they can’t climb.
The roof under me is damp, the cold seeping through my jacket.
My arm throbs, my knee aches something fierce, and my heart is throwing itself around the cage of my ribs as though it’s fighting for freedom.
Kaito’s fingers loosen around my wrist, and then he lets go first.
That matters. I hate that it does, but it really fucking matters, and I can’t do a damned thing about the new rhythm my heart decides to beat at.
“You keep saving me,” he says, voice rough with more than just pain.
Rolling my head against the roof, I paint a glare across my features and mutter, “Then how about you stop needing it?”
Kaito’s mouth twitches, and I point a warning finger at his face. “Don’t do it. Don’t even think about it.”
“What?” he asks innocently.
“Don’t smile,” I snap, still pointing.
“I wasn’t going to,” he argues, but I see the amusement in those dark almond eyes.
“You were thinking about it,” I say, sure in my assessment.
He nods, looking like he’s still fighting against the smile I can visibly see teasing the edges of his mouth.
“Stop it,” I demand.
“I’m trying,” he assures, though it doesn’t look like he’s trying all that hard.
I hate that another tiny laugh actually threatens me. I kill it with fire immediately, because this is not a time to be laughing. Hell, is there ever a time to laugh in a zombie apocalypse?
Below us, the Zeds continue to claw uselessly at the walls.
For now, though, we’re out of reach. Across the roofs, the next house offers a way down through a broken attic window.
I only know because I checked it yesterday, planning the escape route should I need it.
I never anticipated that I would need it before I even rested for the evening, but what the hell should I have expected?
I also know the house beyond that backs onto a street with less dead, and three blocks after that is a narrow lane that leads toward the woods.
This means my escape route is still viable. Kind of. Mostly, at least.
Unfortunately, my escape route now includes one bleeding Alpha who smells too good and asks permission before opening windows. Fucking A.
The night presses in closer, and the temperature gradually drops the longer we lie here.
It’s only in the silence between us and the groaning Zeds below that I notice Kaito’s breathing turn shallow.
Even in the fading light, I can see the blood staining his shirt, the pool spreading across the material.
“You’re about to pass out on me,” I guess.
“Nah. I’m good. Probably,” he refutes.
I scoff. “That means you’re probably going to pass out.”
He pushes out a huff that almost sounds like laughter. “Yeah, maybe.”
Sitting upright with a groan, I turn my head to look at him with every ounce of irritation I possess and inform him, “You’re actually the most inconvenient man I think I’ve ever met.”