I should leave him. The thought flashes through me, savage and immediate. But for all I know, we’ll need every person to survive this.
“All of them,” I say. “For now.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Nicklas squares his shoulders, his authoritative businessman’s voice barely covering the fear underneath.
“Sit down,” Rosa snaps, her small frame somehow expanding with indignation. “Let my grandsons think.”
“I don’t trust them. They broke their word.” He steps toward us, finger jabbing the air. “This whole situation might be some elaborate plan they cooked up to?—”
“To what?” I step into his space, voice dropping low. “Release a zombie apocalypse to get out of a marriage you forced on us? That your brilliant theory?”
Cameron’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder with a gentle pressure.
I shrug it off. “We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t blackmailed us in the first place.”
Carmen gasps, Amelia’s eyes widen, darting between her father and me, and Dakota doesn’t react, still staring at the wall.
“I was saving your business!” Nicklas snarls. “Your father would have wanted?—”
“Don’t you dare talk about my father.” My hands curl into fists. “You betrayed him. Your partner. Your friend.”
“Enough!” Abuela slams her cane against the floor, the crack like a gunshot in the small room. “All this fighting while those things are out there? Stupidity. You want to tear each other apart? Save it for after we survive.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. But the rage burning in my chest doesn’t care about right.
“We need more space and supplies,” I say, focusing on what matters. “No one’s coming to rescue us.”
“There’s a kitchen,” the reverend says. “Always stocked for after-service functions and volunteers.”
“Where?” I ask.
“Down the hall, past the chapel.” He fumbles in his pocket. “I have keys.”
“The caterers.” Dakota’s murmur startles everyone. “They delivered yesterday. Everything except the cake.” Her eyes focus on me. “The food’s in the reception hall and kitchen.”
“Contaminated,” Nicklas scoffs, waving his hand like he’s swatting a fly. “The reception hall is across from where those things were feeding. Food’s probably covered in blood and whatever disease this is.”
I bite back a laugh. The man who blackmailed his way into my family’s business is suddenly a fucking epidemiologist?
“There are warming trays,” Dakota says, voice stronger than before but still quiet. “Everything’s in sealed containers until serving.”
Nicklas whirls on her. “They’re all infected.”
“Sorry.” She shrinks back against the wall, and a knot forms in my chest at how quickly she caves.
Sienna leans forward, elbows on knees. “Actually. Food safety 101. I worked catering jobs through college. Stuff stays in thermal containers until it’s time to serve. Should be fine if the lids are still on.”
Nicklas stares at her like she’s speaking another language. The man’s probably never cooked a meal in his life. He opens his mouth, closes it, then looks away without responding. Conceding without admitting he’s wrong.
Cameron catches my eye, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
“So we have food,” I say, bringing everyone back to the point. “I’ll go.” I catch the keys the reverend tosses. “Cameron and I will clear a path, secure what we need.”
“I’m coming too.” Sienna steps forward, chin raised.
I start to refuse, but Cameron’s hand on my arm stops me.
“She knows what she’s doing,” he says. “Good under pressure.”
