Page 67 of Immune

I sigh deeply. “A cat. Probably dead, but a cat with very inspiring survival potential. It’s a long story. You had to be there. Well, you were there, but you weren’t paying attention. That’s not on me, mate.”

Fletcher closes his eyes for half a second and there, in the middle of blood, smoke, bad decisions, and the word gameof hat-based hostage negotiation the apocalypse has ever seen, I almost smile.

Almost.

Because then something moves across the courtyard again.

Something small.

Something silent.

Something coming closer.

FOURTEEN

DAKOTA

I wait until dark.

Not because it’s safer. There’s absolutely nothing safe about nighttime. Night is simply darker, and people confuse those two things because people are actual idiots.

Darkness makes Zeds harder to see. It makes broken glass appear too late under your feet. It turns stairwells and hallways into traps. It gives every shadow teeth and every noise the ability to crawl right under your skin.

But darkness also hides pale hair, sharp eyes, and the inescapable look of desperation.

So… I wait. And Kaito waits with me.

That’s not a part of the plan, but that would be because I haven’t actually shared the plan with him. In fact, I’ve shared absolutely nothing. Not a route, a timing window. Hell, not a single crumb of emotional context for why I’m crouched on the roof of an apartment block across from the one housing three unknown Alphas, a dying pilot, and my brother’s hat.

The guy figures it out anyway, because of course he does.

Kaito sits several feet away, back to a chimney stack with one hand pressed lightly to his side where his bandage disappears under his blood-stained shirt. The bleeding has slowed for the most part, and he keeps his breathing even despite the pain that tightens the corners of his mouth any time he moves too quickly.

“Bad idea?” he asks quietly, voice void of judgment or anger, both of which I kind of expected.

I don’t bother looking at him. “Yup.”

“You still going?”

“Obviously,” I answer bluntly, but it lacks the sharpness it would have had yesterday.

Silence falls between us like an anvil, stretching for a long moment before he softly asks, “You need anything?”

That question. I hate it, and not because it’s pushy, because it’s not. It actually leaves room for a “no” or “yes.” It gives me room to decide which one makes me feel like peeling my own skin off less.

“Don’t follow me,” I mutter, tightening the strap on my backpack. Kaito says nothing for a beat too long, and I turn my head to face him slowly before elaborating, “I’m being serious. That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Kaito nods. “Heard you loud and clear.”

I raise an eyebrow, even if I’m not sure he can even see it in the little light we have. “That doesn’t sound much like an agreement.”

His dark eyes hold mine in the low light as he says, “I know.”

I grit my teeth behind the bandana, trying to find some semblance of patience and calm in this fucked-up world, before I explain, “I’m getting the hat, not starting a fight. I’m not making contact, and I’m certainly not getting captured by three Alphas with military auras and a dying helicopter man. I go in, grab the hat, and then I leave.”

Once again, Kaito nods.

“And you stay here,” I add on, watching him closely.