Page 23 of Revenge Saints

Max sets me down gently, and I nod toward the underwear with a raised brow. “How did you manage that?”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m guessing whoever lived here didn’t make it. They left everything behind, including the drawers full of clothes.”

The plague tore through the world like fire. Millions gone in less than twelve months. Cremations became protocol. Entire neighborhoods were left behind, frozen in time and untouched. Authorities banned survivors from returning to their homes or retrieving anything from abandoned houses… said it was dangerous and contaminated.

The last official update we got before the world went dark said only twenty percent of the global population had survived.

After that… silence.

No news. No radio. Just a few paper flyers scattered through ruined streets.

“I’ll let you get dressed,” Max says, and my mind returns back to the room.

I nod, watching him leave before picking up the clothes. Slipping them on, piece by piece, feels like sliding back into something close to normal. My head’s still foggy, my body stiff, and there are too many questions clawing in my mind… But I’m not ready to ask them.

I grab a slice of pear and a couple pieces of apple from the bowl and eat slowly, giving myself a moment.

Outside the bedroom, I hear voices. The sound of them makes my chest tighten. I take a deep breath, then push open the door that leads to the hallway. It’s dark, every window covered with nailed-down planks. Our shield from the outside world.

“You look better,” Ryker says as I limp into the living room, each step a dull, dragging throb that claws up my thigh. I try to straighten, pretend I’m not wincing, but the ache pulses like it’s got teeth. “You guys too.” My gaze drifts over the three of them. They’ve changed into fresh clothes, cleaned up… But it’s not the same. There’s a weight in the room, a silence where Dante should be. Ever since Bryn and I were caught by them, he hasn’t left the base. He was the constant. The calm.

Now it feels like the center’s just… gone.

“Did you eat?” Knox cuts in, dominant.

My eyes snap to him, narrowed and hot.

“Yes. I did.”

It spits out sharper than I mean, but I don’t pull it back. Ican’t.The pressure inside me bursts like glass, and he’s just unluckyenough to be standing too close when it happens. I spin on my heel, needing distance. Needing to outrun the pressure building in my chest like a scream I can’t release.

“Don’t,” he says, voice low, firm—like he knows. Like he sees the storm curling in my throat. I stop, spine straightening. “Excuse me?” I snap, turning around to face him.

He rises from the couch, slow, every movement calculated, like a predator closing in on his prey.

“Tell me.” He growls, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that almost burns.

“Tell you what?” My patience snaps, and my fist clenches by my side, nails digging into my palm.

“You’re pissed.” His smirk is arrogant, and that’s all it takes. I feel my blood boil.

“I am!” I spit the words out, but I don’t get far before he’s in front of me, hand wrapping around my arm. Instinct kicks in, and I swing at him.

He ducks it, and the bastard chuckles. “Try again, pet.”

I want to scream. Why the hell is he being like this?

I swing again, fury and frustration fueling every movement. He catches my hand mid-punch and lets it go, mocking me with that damn smirk.

“Is that it?” The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s fighting a smile.

I lurch at him, fists flying left and right, and then I throw my leg out. The pain shoots up my thigh, but I don’t care. It’s like I need to break something. Him. The world. Me.

He catches my leg easily, his strength cutting through my wild rage. Tsking under his breath, he turns me around, twisting my arm behind me. My back slams into his chest, the heat of him wrapping around me like a fucking furnace.

He doesn’t let go. Doesn’t ease the pressure.

“Let me go!” I scream, the anger and hurt spilling out.