Page 29 of My Undead Love Life

Home.

My heart twisted violently in my chest.

Keith wouldn't be home anymore. He wouldn’t be in our treehouse. He wouldn’t sleep in our bed with the blanket we'd stolen from an abandoned cabin last winter. His boots would never again be by the door, kicked off in the exact wrong place, no matter how many times I complained about tripping over them. The ridiculous collection of medicinal herbs he'd dried out in the kitchen that I didn’t know how to use would go to waste.

The pain stole my breath, and I had to force myself to breathe again.

Keith wouldn’t be there, but…Tori would still be there. Mom and Dad, too. If Tori and the guys had made it back safely, they’d be waiting, and they’d be worried sick. Tori would be pacing. Mom would try to keep busy by taking care of the chickens like I usually did. Dad would stand outside too long, staring down the path we’d taken toward the city.

But I wouldn't know until I got there.

If I made it back.

My mind was a mess. I knew that, but I couldn’t control it. Not the way I wanted to.

I was spiraling.

“Thank you,” I whispered again.

“We’re just doing what’s right.” Luck shifted slightly beside me, and his warmth seeped into me through the blankets. The simple comfort made fresh guilt twist in my stomach.

Keith had spent his final moments making sure I survived.

Now, I was lying here warm because of the strangers he'd trusted. Snuggled close to them.

Outside the closet, the scratching grew louder.

We all tensed.

The behavior changed. Before, it had felt curious and threatening, but now it sounded desperate.

Scratch.

Scratch.

SCRATCH.

Claws slashed wildly across the metal door, scraping hard enough to make the hinges vibrate. The noise echoed through the tiny closet, too loud, too close, and impossible to escape. Dust shook loose somewhere above my head and drifted down against my face.

Whatever was out there had started digging against it in an attempt to break the door down.

“Stay silent,” Oxi breathed.

We did. I was pretty damn sure we all held our breath.

Sometimes, the claws dragged lazily down the metal in long screeching strokes.

Other times, they attacked the door in frantic bursts.

The abrupt changes were the worst part. I never knew when the next scrape was coming. Every time silence settled, I found myself counting the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Fou—