Page 48 of Worshiping Faith

Something snaps inside me. “What?” I push forward, gripping the bars. “I’m not letting them take you. You hear me? You are not a cure, not a fucking weapon. You are a man.”

Jinx huffs out a breath, looking at me like I just don’t get it. “Ain’t been a man in a long time, Faith.”

And the raw honesty of it guts me.

Damn it. Even if Zachs makes them think twice, they’ll come back loaded for war.

“That’s bullshit.” I shove the rest of the food closer. “Eat. Rest. I’ll get you through this. Dax, Zachs, Wilkes, Trip, we got you.”

We.

Fuck.

We’re screwed.

Jinx breathes out a slow, rattling laugh. “I’m dying, Faith.”

The words hit like a gunshot.

I whirl toward him. “You’re not turning.” I search his face, looking for signs, anything.

He looks worn down. Strung out.

His fingers shake as he grips the hem of his shirt and lifts it.

I suck in a sharp breath.

The bites are deep, raw, infected.

Shit.

Not turning. But if I don’t move fast, it won’t matter.

“Infected,” I murmur, my brain already spinning through supplies, antibiotics, anything that can help.

Jinx drops his shirt. “Drugs help the pain.”

Of course they do.

“We have antibiotics,” I say, my voice stronger now. Focused. “And I’ll get you what you need.”

Jinx watches me, his heavy, bloodshot eyes flickering with something I can’t quite place.

“You aren’t dying, Jinx.” I grip the bars. “Fight. For you. With me.”

He exhales, eyes sliding shut. “I’m tired,” he mutters.

It’s not just physical. It’s everything.

I push the rest of the food and sodas through the bars.

“Get some rest.” My voice softens, just a little. “I’ll be back. You are not facing this alone.”

Chapter Eleven

Wilkes

The last radio call was simple. Boat is stopped.