Chapter 39: Sleeping on Dirt

MILO’S POV

I’m losing my patience with these vampires. I’ve explained, several times, that there isn’t a lot of cargo space on the yacht, especially since we’re bringing replacement weapons, parts, and supplies for making ammo. That hasn’t stopped my people from packing several suitcases worth of designer clothes and expensive accessories. Do you need to bring your Rolex, worn by the founder of the company, and its case? Or those silver stiletto dancing shoes? Are you expecting to do a lot of dancing in the broken streets? I’ve had these conversations a thousand times in the last few nights.

Even steady, sensible Maaka was caught trying to pack a large portion of his sneaker collection onto the ship.

“They’re signed. By Jordan. He nearly never signed shoes. What if we don’t get back here?” Maaka asks me, stroking a box as if it were a beloved pet cat.

“Then we’re dead and you won’t need them,” I answer, shaking my head.