Page 165 of My Undead Love Life

Spencer nodded slowly. “You’re right. We have to go visit her soon.”

“We will, wildflower,” Keith murmured.

I tapped my backpack. “She marked her location on my map.”

That earned me a smile again. “I love that about you,” she said.

My chest tightened. “What? The map thing?”

“The preparedness.”

Luck coughed behind us. “Some of us call it bossiness.”

“And some of us are alive because of it,” Oxi said.

“All of us,” Luck admitted.

Spencer bumped her shoulder lightly against mine. “I call it sexy.”

My steps faltered.

Keith chuckled under his breath.

Luck made a scandalized sound. “Okay, wow. I’m jealous.”

Oxi smirked. “Me too.”

I cleared my throat and looked ahead. “Three hours to the farmhouse. We don’t stop unless we have to.”

“Deflection,” Luck whispered.

“Obvious deflection,” Oxi agreed.

Spencer’s gloved hand slipped into mine for three steps before she let go again to adjust her pack.

Those three steps were gold.

The farmhouse came into view just before sunset.

I saw Spencer slow beside me before I fully registered the structure ahead. Then, she stopped. Everything in her changed. The hope she’d been carrying dimmed in an instant. “It has never been this bad before,” she whispered.

That was when I stopped looking at her and really looked at the farmhouse. The barn was the first thing I noticed. Or…what was left of it. The structure leaned in on itself, one side bowed and broken, the roof partially collapsed beneath the weight of snow and old damage. Holes had been torn through the sides, jagged and violent. Boards splintered inward and outward in a way that told me force had come from both directions. Something had gotten in and out.

It had to have been the horde. The house didn’t fare any better. Almost every window was broken. Some had been boarded once, but those boards were cracked or hanging loose, half-pulled away by hands, weather, or teeth. The siding had been ripped from one corner, exposing the insulation beneath. The front porch sagged. The door hung slightly crooked, still shut but wrong in the frame.

Blood stained the snow around the steps. Old blood.

My grip tightened around the axe. I didn’t know this place, but I knew what it meant to walk back into a home and find it destroyed.

Keith’s voice softened beside her. “Oh, wildflower. I’m so sorry.”

Spencer moved forward slowly. “This…” Her voice cracked. “This was⁠—”

“It was your home,” I said.

She nodded once.

My chest ached. I wanted to tell her we didn’t have to go in, but we did. We needed shelter. We needed to clear it. We needed to know if anything useful remained. We needed walls before night fully dropped and whatever hunted us found our trail again.