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little?”
    “Can’t.”
    I snort, “Your name has opened doors from 8 to the fucking Stronghold. Why is it different here?”
    He gives me a flat stare, and I laugh, a little hysterical. “Oh, forgive me. You won’t answer a question like that. How silly of me to forget.”
    “Don’t do that,” he says, annoyed.
    “What?”
    “That sarcastic bitchiness. It’s annoying as fuck.” I gape at him. “And you’re better than that.”
    I can’t help the bitter laugh that wells in me, the one that sounds a little hysterical and on the very edge of shattering. I cut if off as Finn looks at me.
    “It doesn’t matter what happened in the other Havens, Nurrin. Here, my name will open no doors—I don’t know anyone here. We’ll get through this the way anyone would—by bribing our way and fighting like hell. Which we’re very good at.”
    “We don’t have
time,
for that,” I snap shrilly.
    “We also don’t have a choice,” he shoots back, his voice as bracing as a slap. “I don’t have the time to coddle you. You have to get your shit together, or Collin is as good as dead.”
    The words are harsh and violent. They sting tears to my eyes, but they also jerk me up short. I shudder, knowing that he’s right. I don’t have the indulgence of wallowing and worry—not if there is even the slightest chance in hell of finding Collin alive. I take a deep breath, nod sharply to myself, and stare at him. Finn is watching me, his gray eyes caustic and demanding.
    Exactly what I need him to be.
    “What are we going to do?”
    Something sparks in his eyes briefly—close to approval—before it’s gone. “We’ll listen to gossip, first. If that doesn’t yield anything—check Q and Containment. Appeal to the Warden holders. If Collin and Dustin were here, they’ll know, and they’re accessible, even to us. See if we can get into the morgue.”
    I flinch, and he adds, “It’s better to eliminate that possibility than to have it dangling over us the entire time we’re in the Haven.”
    “And for now?”
    “We’ll rest. Get some sleep without the stress of the Wide Open and start fresh in the morning. I’ll see if I can get some info from the Walkers—they might talk to me if they feel camaraderie.”
    I almost laugh at the idea of Finn O’Malley having camaraderie with anyone other than himself, or possibly Collin. But I have a feeling he can fake it, if he has to. There is very little that O’Malley can’t do, if he has to.
    “What will you do if Collin isn’t here?”
    Finn’s eyes narrow a little. “You have yet to mention Dustin.”
    I stare at him, working through the words, trying to process them. Then I flush. “I want to get them both back. Obviously.”
    “It’s not obvious,” he says softly. “You want Collin back—from how often you’ve brought up Dustin, I wonder if you even remember he’s what started this.”
    I flounder for something to say, but come up with nothing. Finn doesn’t push further than that, just turns to the little bed where our bags are and rummages through them until he comes up with a few knives and two guns. The backup to replace the weapons the Walkers confiscated.
    “I want mine back,” I say when he extends one to me. He nods, as close to a promise as I’ll get, and I take the standard Glock, tucking it into the empty holster on my hip.
     

Chapter 13. Twisted Priorities
    I can’t get Finn’s subtle accusation out of my head. It wasn’t an overt thing—Finn O’Malley doesn’t need that. But it’s a niggling presence in the back of my mind.
    And it was there because it was the truth. I
had
forgotten Dustin.
    Before Emilie Milan and the zombies and the horror show that life became—before I was born—people had different priorities. Life wasn’t easily mapped out. Family was defined by more than blood. People fought with family and walked away from them completely, finding friends who would take their place. And it was common place, a normal