Page 14 of Redemption (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #4)

With a smirk, I dig into my pack and pull out a granola bar, handing it to her wordlessly.

Her eyes are drawn to it immediately, the ravenous hunger visible in the way she licks her lips and subconsciously leans towards it.

She hesitates for only a moment before quickly reaching her hand out and taking it.

Within seconds, it's unwrapped and devoured, her little cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as she shoves huge chunks into her mouth.

Breathing heavily through her nose, she tentatively looks up at me from the floor, or rather, in my direction but not directly at me, and mutters, “Thanks,” around a bite before standing and navigating herself out of the kitchen, absently pulling the stick out of her hair as she walks into the hallway.

Unable to let her out of my sight, I follow behind her, my steps silent as we make our way through the vacant house.

Suddenly, she stops and turns abruptly, causing me to run right into her.

She stumbles with a curse but I manage to reach out and catch her before she falls again.

Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, and it absolutely takes my breath away.

In that moment, I forget everything once again.

The years between us. Her hatred towards me.

The apocalypse we’ve found ourselves survivors of.

Nothing else matters besides the here and now.

The way this woman is able to unknowingly be the one thing that turns me into a vulnerable mess.

The way I want to touch her like I used to.

The way my hands tighten on her as if she’s about to disappear.

I can feel it, the urge to pull her in and start all over.

To show her how much she means to me. My muscles bunch, doing just that when—

“No. Nope. Off. Off. ” Her arms press against my chest and push me away, breaking our connection and all my hopes for reconciliation at the same time.

She turns and stalks back into the foyer, her hands lifting to her hips as she continues to wander through the open space.

She enters the living room and takes a look around, her shoulders rising with a deep inhale as she shakes her head.

Not wanting to push any more than I already have—and depressed enough at the immediate and continuous, yet aptly deserved, rejection—I remain in the kitchen, but still keep watch over her.

This... partnership.

This....

I wince. What we had... is lost. No matter how ecstatic I am that she’s alive and well and unharmed, no matter how much I want to pull her into my arms, apologize for being an absolute asshole, and hold her for the rest of my life and never let go, no matter how much I want to feel her lips pressed tightly against mine.

.. it’s never going to happen again. Even when I meant well, all those years ago, I broke her heart, shattered it into a million pieces, and time, it seems, didn’t do anything to help mend those wounds, merely allowed them to fester in my absence.

It’s my own fault. I know that. Been living with the guilt of it for years.

The aching regret... for years . It’s no use, though.

The incessant need to take it all back. It doesn’t matter how remorseful I may feel.

How much I’ve wanted to kick my own ass over and over again throughout the years ever since I left her standing there in that cold and empty terminal.

In the end, she hates me. Will probably always hate me.

And I’m just going to have to learn to live with that.

She huffs out a breath and turns back in my direction, her arms still on her hips—an aggressive stance against me that instantly puts me on guard. “What should we do?” she asks, pacing the length of the room.

After referring to me as a ghost this entire time, I’m surprised she’s even asking for my opinion. I was happy to simply come with her on the journey and let her take the lead as she wanted. But now she’s asking me for advice. Making me a part of this.

Acknowledging me.

“There’s no food here,” she continues before I’m able to say anything.

“If they did use them, we can’t follow them through the tunnels; there’d be no escape if they caught us.

” She turns, pacing to the other side, shaking her head and occasionally peering off to the side with a frown before returning her gaze to the floor in front of her.

“They took the motorcycles, so those aren’t an option. Maybe there’s a car—”

I lift my hand, intending to touch her shoulder and settle her overstimulated mind but restrain myself, lowering it back to my side when she notices the movement. “There isn’t one. A car, that is,” I interject.

Her eyes narrow skeptically at my statement.

“And how do you know this? Did you check? There might be one stashed in a garage. There are plenty of houses on this road we can check. If we just—” She finally stops pacing, taking a stand in front of me when I cross my arms over my chest, pursing my lips to the side. “What?”

“May I speak?”

She lifts a hand and waves it around, returning to her relentless pacing. “Go ahead.”

“I just know. There aren’t any for miles.” She points her cynical gaze back at me, to which I simply lift my hands, palms facing out, begging her to listen to reason and trust the man she has no reason to. “Please... believe me when I tell you this. We’re going to have to walk back.”

“Ok. Fine. We’ll walk back. But,” she looks around, “we have no food. No water. No supplies. We’re going to have to—”

“GRRRRRRRRRRRR”

Both our backs straighten at the sound coming from the front door. We must not have closed it all the way after I kicked it open.

“Oh shit,” she gasps, her eyes widening as she palms her bat, lifting it in front of her with both hands.

While I’m thoroughly impressed at her courage and tenacity in the face of danger, I also don’t want her to be in the direct line of it.

Especially when I’m here. With a slight nudge to her side, I reverse our positions, placing myself between her and the doorway to the living room.

“Get behind me,” I say, and thankfully she listens without objection.

The sound comes again, just on the other side of the wall. Alessandra spins around, darting her eyes to the windows for a way out, but I have all we’re going to need right here. I lift my shirt and reach for the gun I have holstered beneath my belt, concealed on the inside of my pants.

“GRRRRRRRRRR”

The deep growls continue, getting closer and closer, echoing throughout the space as I raise my gun and aim towards the open doorway. A dark shadow creeps up the opposite wall, slowly stalking down the hallway.

And then, I see it.

A drooling, snarling, vicious beast.

It leans back slightly on its heels, and my finger tightens on the trigger...

...only to be knocked away.

The gun fires as I hit the floor beneath Alessandra, the bullet flying into the opposite wall and thankfully not into her when she collided with me. I look over in the direction of the doorway, but the beast is gone, and Alessandra’s still on top of me.

“Why did you—”

She lifts herself to her feet and I move to do the same, but before I can stand and finish the sentence, I’m thrown back onto the floor again, the beast, now, towering over me in her place, looking like it can’t wait to eat me whole.

I fight to escape, but I’m stuck, pinned beneath its muscle as its drool drips onto my face.

“Sadie!” Alessandra chirps excitedly.

The beast stills, ears perking up in response. I turn my gaze reluctantly to Alessandra, perplexed at her reaction to me about to be eaten by the foul-mouthed canine.

After a few seconds of pure delight, she looks down at me, finally noticing my predicament and imminent demise before saying, “Oh, yeah, that’s right. Sadie! Down!”

The dog looks to Alessandra, whimpering before licking its chomps and turning back to me on the floor, showing its sharp canines again and inching closer to my face.

“It’s ok. He’s not a douchebag. Just an asshole. Down, girl.”

With a disgruntled chuff, Sadie pulls away but keeps me in her sights as she returns to Alessandra’s side.

“Sadie?” I ask.

“Yes,” she confirms, giving her a scratch behind her ears. “She’s... my dog.”

Remnants of our earlier conversation float around in my mind as I look at the mutt in question, only to receive another growl at my curiosity... and another outburst from its apparent owner .

“Oh. My. Gravy....” Her eyes widen. I can just about see the sparks flying in that beautiful brain of hers.

“Sweet mother of marshmallows!” Alessandra looks at Sadie, then at me, and then back at the dog again, her eyes going round like saucers before she points at Sadie, getting her attention. “You can see him too?!”

Sadie sits, tilting her head to the side before trotting over to me and...

Motherfucker...

“Get off! Stop pissing on me! Fucking dog. I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You sure as fuck did, ya fucking ass-wipe! But that’s not the point right now. She can see you!” She points her accusatory finger at me, shock taking over her entire body.

Finally! “Of course she can see me, Mi Al— Alessandra! I’m fucking real. Like I’ve been trying to tell you!”

“Oh my God.... OH MY GOD!” She claws at her hair as she paces back and forth, her fists opening and closing.

I can sense her about to lose her shit from here.

“How... Fucking... How did he just miraculously survive everything?... No, I know I have no place to talk, but still... Yes, I know. She just—” Suddenly, Aly stops pacing and looks down to Sadie, “Good girl! You get all the cookies. And another every time you pee on him!” She pets her, causing the dog’s tongue to loll out with a goofy, vindictive grin directed straight at me.

Returning her own gaze in my direction, Aly continues, “And as for you, you say you know what to do to get them back? Well, let’s go then.

If you’re real, why the hell are you sitting around on your ass?

Get up and make yourself fucking useful!

We’ve got to find the guys!” She claps her hands, waving her arms around like she’s directing traffic.

“Let’s go! Move it! Go! Go! Go! Double-time and. .. stuff. Whatever. ONWARD!!!”

Well, at least she doesn’t think I’m dead anymore.

Progress.

I stand, walking to the front door and exiting the house with her and her mutt on my heels. “Ok. Follow me. I know of a place we can camp out tonight, but, on foot, it’s a few hours aw—” I look to the sky, to the clouds that seem to be getting darker and darker by the second.

Coming to stand beside me, Alessandra sees the same thing I do and reacts just how I feared.

Her fists clench at her sides as she turns her gaze upwards, following the clouds as they grow darker and continue far off into the distance.

Lightning crashes a few miles away, thunder filling our ears a few seconds after.

As the world outside grows more ominous, she slowly eases her way back into the house, step by aggravated step, until both her feet are back inside.

Despite the fact that she’s eager and determined to reunite with her group, she knows to stay inside when any form of darkness comes.

It’s not the rain she’s afraid of—she always used to love watching thunderstorms with me on our covered porch back in New York and even went as far as dancing in the rain with me a few times—it’s what’s hiding in it, making it even more obvious she’s seen some shit this past year.

It breaks my heart to see it. So much so, it takes every ounce of discipline within me to refrain from running over to her and pulling her into my arms to assure her that everything will be ok, that no matter what is out there lurking in the darkness, I’m so much worse, and that she has nothing to worry about with me by her side.

My body turns instinctively in her direction, intent on doing just that, but I force myself to remain by the door.

“I really don’t want to, but we should probably stay here until this storm blows over,” she suggests before I do. I nod in response, easily agreeing as I shut the door behind me.

Together, we walk into the main living area and take our seats on opposite sides of the large sectional sofa situated in the corner of the room.

Sadie comes in a moment later, perching herself on the carpet at her feet, the dog’s nose in the air and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as Alessandra pets her scruff.

She bites her lower lip a few times—a habit of hers when she’s overly stressed that she apparently still hasn’t overcome after all these years—before lifting her gaze to meet mine.

Gone is the manic individual who was convinced I was a figment of her imagination. The woman before me is all business and brass tacks. Brokering absolutely no bullshit.

She leans back on the sofa, folding her arms across her chest. “I only have one question for you.”

I plant my feet and incline my head, knowing this was coming sooner or later. “I’m sure you do.”

There’s a short pause, a reassuring breath, and then...

“Where in the fuck have you been, Darius?”