Page 89 of Glitter Rose
“Not anymore.” Lie. Everything fucking hurts, but it’s nothing compared to watching her fade in that SUV, blood on her lips as she whispered my name.
“I want to see the rest of it.” She shifts again. “Iron Gate. Where you live. Where we’ll live.”
“When you’re stronger.”
Her eyes meet mine, that stubborn fire flickering behind them. “Now.”
“Viv?”
She glances up from the monitors, assessing Paris with that clinical detachment I’ve come to both respect and hate. Respect because it’s kept people alive when emotionswould’ve gotten in the way. Hate because right now it’s directed at Paris.
“Ten minutes. Wheelchair only. No stairs.” Vivian’s tone brooks no argument, but Paris’s face lights up like she handed her the fucking moon.
Correction: Hate because I want my lovely princess to have that expression because of me.
“I’ll take it.” Paris tries to swing her legs off the bed.
“Slow down.” I catch her shoulders as she sways, face going three shades paler. “The island isn’t going anywhere.”
“Island?” Her voice pitches higher than normal. “Like, surrounded by water and all that?”
“Yeah, princess. Island.” I try not to smile at her wide-eyed panic. “Zombies can’t swim. At least not that I know of.”
“Neither can I.”
“That’s what boats are for.” I place my arm behind her back. “And me.”
Vivian wheels a chair over, giving me a look that says ‘be careful or I’ll sedate you both.’ “Keep her warm. And for God’s sake, don’t let Dante bombard her with questions about his conspiracy theories.”
“Got it. No Dante, no stairs, no freezing to death.” I ease Paris into the chair, every single bone of her digging into my hands. I’m gonna find that fucker Gabriel and feed him his own intestines if he’s still alive. In the meantime, I’ll make sure she gains back every pound and then some.
“And Knox?” Vivian’s hand catches my arm as I straighten. “She’s still healing. Don’t… overtax her.”
“Got it.” I clear my throat. “Understood.”
“I want to see everything,” Paris says.
I tap her nose. “Ten minutes gets you the mess hall and maybe the garden if you’re lucky.”
“I am lucky.” She flashes me a bright smile. “I’m here withyou.”
Something breaks and heals in my chest all at once. I kiss the top of her head, breathing in her familiar scent beneath the hospital soap—Flowers. That floral essence that’s purely Paris, unchanged despite four months of captivity.”
“Alright, princess. Your guided tour of zombie apocalypse paradise begins now.”
I maneuver Paris’s wheelchair through the medical building’s narrow doorway, squeezing us out into the crisp morning air. It will do her good. The island breeze hits immediately, carrying that mix of salt and pine that still feels like freedom to me after all these months.
“Wow,” she whispers, taking in the compound. “So this is your super-secret zombie-proof community. It’s beautiful.”
“Wait till you see the rest.” I wheel her down the gentle slope back around to the main lodge. “Garden’s around back. Solar panels to the south. We’ve got about thirty people now.”
Her head swivels, taking in the cabins nestled among trees, smoke curling from chimneys, people moving leisurely, rather than in fear.
“You built all this?”
“Found it. Fixed it. Defended it.” I pause by a flowering bush that Sofia’s been cultivating. “Here, smell.”
She leans forward, inhaling the sweet scent of the pale blue flowers. “Smells like… before.”
