Page 179 of My Undead Love Life

Another bark tore through the trees, followed by the clank of a heavy chain.

“It’s just Bane,” Keith told them.

Mad didn’t lower his axe. “Who the fuck is Bane?”

“He’s the alarm,” Keith explained. “Lets the Oasis know when the undead or new people get too close.”

Luck stared ahead through the trees. “Your alarm has a name?”

“He was a dog,” I said.

Oxi’s gaze snapped toward me. “Was?”

“He’s infected,” Keith answered. “Has been for a long time. He’s chained inside a reinforced enclosure outside the perimeter.”

Luck lowered his pistol a fraction. “You have an undead guard dog?”

“Alarm dog,” I corrected.

“That distinction does not help.”

Bane barked again. Someone at the Oasis would hear it and would be looking.

My heart began racing. We were home.

“Oh my God,” I breathed before I took off running.

“Spence!” Keith shouted behind me.

“Flare!” Mad barked at the same time.

I didn’t slow. I couldn’t. Not when I was this close. Branches clawed at my sleeves, catching and tugging as I pushed through them. Snow kicked up behind my boots. my backpack bounced painfully against my shoulders, but I barely felt it. My breaths came fast and uneven. My chest tightened with anticipation. I had imagined reaching home a thousand times.

The trees thinned, and smoke drifted between the branches. I ran faster, bursting through the last line of trees and stumbling into the clearing.

The Oasis opened up around me. Treehouses rose between the thick trunks and pegged ladders with balconies. Tarps covered sections of the platforms against the snow. Smoke curled from chimneys built through the roofs.

A bonfire roared in the center of the clearing.

I was home.

My vision blurred instantly.

“Spencer?”

I stopped running. That voice hit me like a blow to the chest.

A man stood near the bonfire, one hand still wrapped around a piece of split wood. The flames threw orange light across his face, showing his beard had grown.

“Micah?”

My sister’s husband stared at me.

For one long second, neither of us moved. His gaze swept over my hair, my clothes, the katana at my side, blood splattered over me, and looking at my face like he couldn’t trust any part of what he was seeing. The wood fell from his hand.

“I’m home,” I whispered. My voice broke on the words.

His expression shattered. Disbelief gave way to something so bright and relieved that it transformed his whole face. “Holy shit.” He spun toward the treehouses. “Tori!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Tori! She’s home! Spencer’s home!”