Page 12 of Worshiping Faith

Not just clean, not just not awful, but deliberately good. Like someone who chooses their cologne. Like someone who wants to be noticed.

“I grew up in juvie,” he says, as casually as if he’s discussing the weather. “Had some pretty wild friends there. We did arts and crafts.”

He pauses to take a slow sip of coffee, watching me over the rim of the cup. “You’d be amazed what you can make with a plastic toothbrush,” he continues. “Some of the best blades.”

He lets the words hang. Waiting to see what I do with them.

A test.

He takes nothing seriously.

I arch a brow.

His lips twitch. He likes that I didn’t react. “What about you? Do any time?” he asks.

“I like arts and crafts,” I say, playing along. “Made a flowerpot once. Used a proper spinning wheel. It was messy. I loved it. Ugly as hell.”

Zachs hums, considering. “Who said your pot was ugly? I’ll teach them to run off at the mouth,” he says, already unwrapping his brownie. “Dessert first? Can I feed you? Is that first-date appropriate?”

I roll my eyes. “Is this your very first date?”

Zachs laughs, really laughs. Not his usual bullshit laugh, the one he uses when he’s being a pain in the ass. This one is deep, genuine, beautiful.

“Come on,” he grins, tilting his head. “Look at me. I’m not a virgin.”

I shake my head, smirking. “No, but have you ever dated?”

Something flashes in his eyes. It’s subtle, gone before I can name it. But he keeps grinning. Deflecting. “Damn, you are savage,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not an animal.” Another laugh, but this one softer.

And shit.

I might be in trouble here.

Because alone with me, Zachs is different.

He’s still Zachs, cocky, teasing, a little bit unhinged, a lot unhinged, but there’s something else, too. Something raw.

Something I don’t think he lets most people see.

He’s exposed in a way I don’t think he realizes.

Even as he still hides behind the mask.

“I don’t think you are,” I say. “An animal.”

It’s important that he knows that. The file be damned. This man isn’t just a killer.

He risked everything to pull me out of Sinclair’s grasp. Walked into a wing with nearly twenty armed guards, men who would’ve killed him just for fun. He had to have known that. Had to have seen the odds.

And yet, he went anyway.

If he’d been there a minute sooner, I wouldn’t have had to make my first kill.

And he didn’t hesitate to dive into the ocean after Dax, either.

Not an animal.

I glance up.