Page 52 of Worshiping Faith

I need another sniper. Another set of hands.

My gaze sweeps the yard, searching for anyone who might be capable of holding down a position.

Who can I trust?

Rhett. A con. Good shot. Not a total liability.

I stalk toward him. “You handle a rifle?”

He grunts.

Good enough.

I shove a walkie and a rifle into his hands. “East tower. Eyes on the water. Radio in anything that moves. You fuck this up, we all die.”

Zachs has the west.

Trip just abandoned the towers.

We’re exposed on two sides. Not enough firepower. Not enough time.

Who else can I trust?

If I wasn’t stuck babysitting the backup crew, I’d be in a tower myself.

Dax cuts across the yard.

He looks like hell.

His skin’s pale, his breathing too controlled. He’s holding on by a fucking thread.

“What?” he barks.

No time to coddle him.

“Can you tower? Me? Can we leave these men down here to defend us?” I ask.

His brows slam down, confusion flashing in his eyes. “You want to tell me why you’d consider something so batshit crazy?”

I fill him in quickly, laying out the situation..

His eyes flick toward the block. “You left Faith with Jinx? And Quince?”

“Quince is in a cell. Jinx is cuffed. None of that matters if they get on this island before we figure out how to get off,” I say.

Dax doesn’t even blink. “We take their boat,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I stare at him. “Oh, well, yeah. Let’s just swim out and go full pirate on them.”

He’s fucking serious.

“Dax, it’s a military ship. They’re here for Jinx. He’s the key to their bioweapon. They’re not turning around without him.”

He nods once, like I just confirmed his brilliant plan. “Right. So we take the fucking boat, regroup somewhere safer, and then bring this shit to their fucking asses.”

I scrub a hand down my face.

He’s still recovering from a gunshot. Worn down. Running on fumes.