Lila Quinn still proofs dough in a boarded-up apartment while the slow horde works the stairs. Outspoken, stubborn, and armed with a barbed-wire bat where a rolling pin used to live, she has one rule: no pets, no exceptions, no pretty corpses who used to linger too long at her pastry case.Then she nets a familiar set of shoulders.Cole Brennan comes through the mesh with her name in a ruined mouth. He is gray in patches, bound in zip-ties and pastry twine, and still carrying...