Page 91 of Worshiping Faith

“I know that,” I say, my fingers brushing the side of his face. “I just hope it’s not awful,” I murmur. “I’m so done with awful.”

His hand moves to my waist, fingers firm as they pull me in closer, barely an inch between us now. “We’re at the end of the world, sweetie,” he says, voice like gravel. “Here or in what’s left of the civilian population… these are the kind of men who survive this.”

I swallow.

“Awful is just starting,” he says. His fingers tighten on my chin, tilting my head up. The heat in his gaze burns. “You can do this,” he says.

I nod. “I can do this.”

A small smirk tugs at his lips. “Good girl.” His fingers press just a little harder, his hold firm but careful, like he’s testing me.

Then, just as quick, he leans in.

His mouth brushes mine lightly. Just enough to make me gasp. Then, a sharp tug, his teeth grazing my lower lip, biting just enough to sting.

It’s not a kiss.

It’s a warning.

Or a promise.

I exhale, my heart slamming against my ribs.

His smile is slow, knowing. “Later.”

The door swings open.

Trip steps inside.

I take a sharp step back.

Trip notices. He sees the flush on my face. Sees Wilkes’ grip still resting on my hip. Something flickers in his eyes, but all he says is, “Ready?”

I nod, pushing everything down. Focus.

One thing at a time.

Usually, I take comfort in Trip’s quiet steadiness when he’s near, but as we move through the corridors, the weight of everything bears down on me. The sound of men moving cargo, their footsteps heavy with exhaustion. The low groans of the injured up ahead. The raw scent of blood and sweat clinging to the air.

I wish he would say something. Anything. Fill me in so I can brace myself.

“What’s going on?” My voice is tight, nerves coiling in my stomach. “I heard gunfire.”

Trip’s stride doesn’t change. Doesn’t even hesitate. “Slight disagreement on the dock.”

That’s all he says. No embellishment, no weight behind it. Justfact.

I exhale through my nose. I’ll never get toknowhim at this rate, not in the way I need to before I decide whether we could everbeanything. He’s a wall, and peeling back his layers is going to take time I don’t have right now.

“As long as I’m not about to walk into a room where Dax or Zachs are bleeding out,” I murmur, half to myself.

“They’re good.” Trip finally glances down at me, his eyes unreadable. “Handful of injured men. Couple of gunshot wounds. A slice or two to stitch up.”

Wow.Words.

“Okay.” I swallow. I can do this.

The infirmary is fully stocked. I know that much from my tour with Zachs. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for what I see when we step inside.