Read Online The Horde Without End (The World Without End) by Nazarea Andrews - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nazarea Andrews
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you, lost out there? Go fuck yourself, O’Malley.”
“He is,” Finn murmurs, a smirk turning his lips. It enrages me, and I jerk back, ready to smack him. He catches my hand before it can connect, uses it to jerk me forward. “He’s thinking about me, Nurrin,” he whispers, so close I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips, “because he knows I will keep you alive. Remember that.”
Then he releases me, so abruptly I fall backward in my seat. I can see Ansliey watching us with wide, confused eyes, and I wonder what he thinks of this.
If he’s still under some delusion that I mean anything to Finn O’Malley.
I don’t. I am merely a promise he is fulfilling.
“To the Aldermen, then,” Finn says, soft and even. I ignore him and focus on the sky again as the Jeep rumbles to life.
We drive in cautious silence. Something about Finn’s insistence on seeing the Aldermen bothers me—I want to confront him about it, but I can’t.
Not with Ansliey listening and Finn’s lips a thin angry line.
Not with the knowledge of who Kelsey is.
When we stop, I don’t bother looking around. I can’t see past the sunspots. Even if I could, all I would see is Dustin. No need to look around for that. I drop out of the truck and tug my shirt into place. I can feel them watching me, and it makes my chin come up.
I refuse to let Finn fucking O’Malley see me break.
I stride to the steps of the Haven government building, taking the moment to shove the pain down, down deep where I can’t feel it for now.
Later. On the road. When Finn isn’t staring. When Collin is safe. Then I can shatter into the grief clawing at me. But for now—now I let it simmer and embrace the anger just beyond it.
Because anger is easier. So much easier than grief will ever be.
Chapter 21. Heedless Warnings
The Aldermen are gathered around a large round table, arguing over a report that looks like it’s seen better days. When I enter through the open door, they don’t even notice. I hesitate there, a lifetime of respect for the people who run a Haven keeping me from interrupting.
Finn apparently has no such reservations. He slides past me, directly to the table. Refusing to be left behind, I move to flank him as Ansliey circles the table to stand near a curly haired woman. Her eyes narrow as they assess us. In any other circumstance, the lingering glance at Finn would bother me, but then her gaze darts to me. I don't know what she sees, but she pales.
"What can we do for you?" she asks. Whatever she's feeling, her voice is steady and strong.
Bonus points for her.
"We're just passing through, Alderman. But we wanted to warn you—the Havens are being attacked."
"We heard a little." She makes a face. "Or maybe it would be better to say we haven't heard. From several Havens. I take it you have some theories or information?"
"ERI-Milan has mutated. It's the only explanation. Without a scientist or lab, we can't really say much more than that, but the disease has changed, and because it has, the zombies have. The hordes are bigger, and they're working together—we haven't seen numbers like this since the change."
"But we're safe behind the Walls."
"No. I don't think we are. That's the problem—we've gotten comfortable behind the Walls, and now things are changing and we aren't. You need to be willing to change, or this Haven will fall, just like 8 and 18."
"We haven't heard 18 fell," the curly haired woman says sharply. "Who the hell are you?"
"Cora, this is Finn O'Malley. Walker in Haven 8 and a veteran of the East."
Her eyes narrow, and she snorts dismissively. "How old are you, O'Malley? What on earth do you think you know about something you can barely remember happening?"
Disgust sours my stomach. "He didn't have to come here. He didn't have to give you any warning—we're leaving, and he could have gone and let the whole damn Haven take its chances with the Horde. But we took the time, and we're here. And you'll dismiss it
“He is,” Finn murmurs, a smirk turning his lips. It enrages me, and I jerk back, ready to smack him. He catches my hand before it can connect, uses it to jerk me forward. “He’s thinking about me, Nurrin,” he whispers, so close I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips, “because he knows I will keep you alive. Remember that.”
Then he releases me, so abruptly I fall backward in my seat. I can see Ansliey watching us with wide, confused eyes, and I wonder what he thinks of this.
If he’s still under some delusion that I mean anything to Finn O’Malley.
I don’t. I am merely a promise he is fulfilling.
“To the Aldermen, then,” Finn says, soft and even. I ignore him and focus on the sky again as the Jeep rumbles to life.
We drive in cautious silence. Something about Finn’s insistence on seeing the Aldermen bothers me—I want to confront him about it, but I can’t.
Not with Ansliey listening and Finn’s lips a thin angry line.
Not with the knowledge of who Kelsey is.
When we stop, I don’t bother looking around. I can’t see past the sunspots. Even if I could, all I would see is Dustin. No need to look around for that. I drop out of the truck and tug my shirt into place. I can feel them watching me, and it makes my chin come up.
I refuse to let Finn fucking O’Malley see me break.
I stride to the steps of the Haven government building, taking the moment to shove the pain down, down deep where I can’t feel it for now.
Later. On the road. When Finn isn’t staring. When Collin is safe. Then I can shatter into the grief clawing at me. But for now—now I let it simmer and embrace the anger just beyond it.
Because anger is easier. So much easier than grief will ever be.
Chapter 21. Heedless Warnings
The Aldermen are gathered around a large round table, arguing over a report that looks like it’s seen better days. When I enter through the open door, they don’t even notice. I hesitate there, a lifetime of respect for the people who run a Haven keeping me from interrupting.
Finn apparently has no such reservations. He slides past me, directly to the table. Refusing to be left behind, I move to flank him as Ansliey circles the table to stand near a curly haired woman. Her eyes narrow as they assess us. In any other circumstance, the lingering glance at Finn would bother me, but then her gaze darts to me. I don't know what she sees, but she pales.
"What can we do for you?" she asks. Whatever she's feeling, her voice is steady and strong.
Bonus points for her.
"We're just passing through, Alderman. But we wanted to warn you—the Havens are being attacked."
"We heard a little." She makes a face. "Or maybe it would be better to say we haven't heard. From several Havens. I take it you have some theories or information?"
"ERI-Milan has mutated. It's the only explanation. Without a scientist or lab, we can't really say much more than that, but the disease has changed, and because it has, the zombies have. The hordes are bigger, and they're working together—we haven't seen numbers like this since the change."
"But we're safe behind the Walls."
"No. I don't think we are. That's the problem—we've gotten comfortable behind the Walls, and now things are changing and we aren't. You need to be willing to change, or this Haven will fall, just like 8 and 18."
"We haven't heard 18 fell," the curly haired woman says sharply. "Who the hell are you?"
"Cora, this is Finn O'Malley. Walker in Haven 8 and a veteran of the East."
Her eyes narrow, and she snorts dismissively. "How old are you, O'Malley? What on earth do you think you know about something you can barely remember happening?"
Disgust sours my stomach. "He didn't have to come here. He didn't have to give you any warning—we're leaving, and he could have gone and let the whole damn Haven take its chances with the Horde. But we took the time, and we're here. And you'll dismiss it
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