Finally, she's here. Morgan had rarely taken such an interest in a woman. From the day Theresa left, he'd kept her in mind. The more he thought about her, the clearer she became in his head—and the more she refused him, the more hooked he got. He'd already decided that if she didn't come to him, he would go to K1 Camp himself to find her. Fortunately, she had come. He was eager to have her all to himself. She had said she was bringing a lot of companions, but that didn't bother him. With a little planning, he could send them all off somewhere, leaving the two of them alone for days. Just the thought made his expression soften with anticipation. The helicopter rumbled down onto the pad. "You came," he said. "Yeah." Theresa swung the cabin door open and hopped down with practiced ease. Morgan stepped forward like a gentleman—only to freeze when a pack of war dogs came leaping out of the helicopter behind her. "Woof! Woof! Woof!" "Woof! Woof!" "Woof! Woof! Woof!" Summer reached him first, claws scraping against the ground, baring its teeth. The other fifteen military dogs fanned out, growling and snarling, surrounding Morgan's group in an instant with open hostility. Morgan's face darkened. "Summer, stop," Theresa ordered. "Woof!" The Generic shepherd obeyed immediately, the rest halting right after, though they kept their eyes fixed on Morgan's people like they didn't trust them one bit. "What's this?" Morgan asked, frowning at the canine blockade. Trailing behind with Quentin, Theresa strolled up slowly. "These are my companions. Why? Is there a problem? We'll just head back then." She turned on her heel like she meant it. "No," Morgan said quickly, stepping forward. "Not a problem at all!" He forced a friendly smile at the dogs. Dogs? That's fine. Better than her dragging a bunch of people—easier to manage later. With that thought, his smile warmed further. "You raised them all yourself?" "That's right. Every single one." "What are their names?" he asked, trying to be friendly. That caught her interest. Standing among the dogs, she introduced them one by one. "This one's Summer. I've had him since he was a pup. Generic shepherd. Handsome, right?" "Yeah, handsome." "The rest I picked up along the way. These are Lucky, Cash, Biscuit, Penny, Champ, Glory, Buddy, and Max." Morgan blinked. "Pretty optimistic names." "And these are East, South, West, North, Ace, Snowy, and Spot. I was going to call him Dot, but when I found him, both his legs were half-chewed by zombies, covered in blotches of blood, so Spot seemed more fitting." Morgan stared for a beat. Only she would name them like this. But it's… charming. The more he looked at her, the fresher and more intriguing she seemed. "I'll remember them all," he said with a wide grin. "I like them.""That's great," she replied instantly. "Then they're all yours for the next few days. Get along well with them." Morgan froze. Behind her, Quentin snorted into his hand, quietly laughing. … Inside Ark Camp One's bunker, Theresa followed Morgan in again, flanked by her dogs and Quentin in a small procession. "Stay here tonight," Morgan told her. "Tomorrow I'll take you to Ark Camp Two to see what the world can offer." She rolled her eyes. "What, is it so grand it might get overwhelmed and pass out?" His grin widened. "Stick with me tomorrow—you'll be fine." Inwardly, she rolled her eyes again. Standing amid her dogs, she took in the place. Last time they'd come, the bunker had been littered with blood and zombie corpses. Now everything had been scrubbed clean, bright, and spacious, with no trace of the hellscape it once was. Still, Ark Camp One had suffered heavy losses—nearly 30 thousand dead, leaving just over 10 thousand survivors. Even so, Theresa noticed the camp didn't seem to be badly affected.