“It’s not that, Alexandra… itisAlexandra, right?”
“Xandra,” I correct him.
“It’s not that, Xandra. It’s—when I asked for volunteers to join me, I thought I’d get someone like that Chase kid. Or a vet, like your dad or Eddie Rogers. And, instead, I get?—”
“A little blonde girl who looks like she doesn’t know her ass from her elbows?” I suggest.
Maverick’s lips quirk slightly, a hint of a smile on a hard, older man. “Something like that.”
The whisper of a grin is a tiny improvement, but it doesn’t make his expression any less guarded—or him any more eager to lead me out of the settlement.
I have to change his mind. If he doesn’t want me to tag along, I’m not going anywhere, and that just doesn’t work for me.
“He tell you about me?”
“You might have come up in the conversation.”
“Did he tell you that, after Chase, I have the most kills in the Grave?”
A calculating look flashes across his features, so quickly that if I hadn’t been watching for his reaction, I never would’ve noticed. He narrows his dark eyes, his lips pursed now.
“No,” he says at last. “He didn’t.”
“Yeah? Well, I do. And after I help take out another nest, I’ll have the most.”
Maverick watches me for a moment, sizing me up. I know exactly what he sees. No one in the Grave ever thought me and Hallie could team up and kill so many lurkers until we proved it by just going out and doing it.
“It’ll be a lot of roughing it. Walking through the daylight hours when the lurkers aren’t out, sleeping in shifts if we don’t find safe shelter when the sun goes down. You get that, don’t you? Because if you don’t?—”
“I used to camp with my brother,” I tell him. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“A weekend on a camping ground is a lot different than going weeks at a time on the road. You sure about this?”
“I’m sure.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me. You can back out now, stay here where it’s safe. No one’ll think any less of you if you do.”
Safe? Where the fuck has he been the last nine months? Hallie is proof that not even living in the Grave can protect us for long.
I shake my head stubbornly. "You're right: I don't have to prove anything to you. To anyone. You know why? Because this isn't about any ofyou."
He starts to say something, but I cut him off before he can.
"And, hey, look… this isn't about me, either. Not really. This is about taking out as many lurkers as I—we—can. You're going out there to hunt. You asked for volunteers. I'm here. Maybe we can add on, gather a crew before we make it to the city. Either way, I’m ready to light ‘em up."
Maverick looks me over again, though not in a pervy way. Not like how the boys used to check me out growing up, or how the guys did when they were eager to get me into bed with them. Nope. It’s an appraising-my-abilities way. His eyes linger on the backpack I’m wearing, the newer sleeping bag that Eddie dropped off last night looped around the top. The stranger can see that, for better or worse, I'm as ready as I can be.
The jut to my jaw warns him against even trying to call my bluff.
In the morning light, his expression darkens.
And I wonder: what's gonna be his next move?
He jerks his head at me before starting to gather his supplies. “Just make sure you keep up.”
I’m at least fifteen years younger than this guy, and I want itbad. “Don’t worry. I will.”
He wasn’t kidding when he told the Grave that this trip is going to take a whole lot longer than I would’ve thought. A walk thatshould’ve taken ten minutes in the before times—the journey to the end of the Grave, stepping over our self-proclaimed borders—takes half an hour despite my desire to get out of town as soon as possible.
