A few days later, the scavenging team was gearing up for another run.
The military truck sat in the driveway, engine cold, dust caked into the tires. Yve perched on the edge of the truck bed, feet dangling. She held a pistol awkwardly, turning it in her hands, studying it like a stubborn puzzle.
On the driveway below, Dylan sat cross-legged, a whetstone dragging along the edge of his tomahawk. Scrape. Scrape. Slow. Precise.
"How do I know it's ready again?" Yve asked. Her brow creased.
Dylan didn't look up. "Slide locks back when it's empty." Scrape. "Load it. Push it forward. You hear a click, and…" He paused. "That's it."
She followed the steps. A soft click. "Oh." Her eyes lit up. "So it tells you. That's… polite."
"Yeah," Dylan said. "Real polite."
She smiled to herself. "I kinda forgot."
"That's 'cause you don't use 'em," he said. "Always the bow. Sword. All that."
"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, genuinely puzzled. "They're quieter. And stronger."
"Sure," Dylan muttered. He tested the blade with his thumb. "But it drains you."
Yve stilled, feet swinging slower. Then she nodded once. "Mm. I like it though."
Boots crunched on gravel as Lucas walked up, a folded paper in hand. He held it out. "Here."
Dylan stood and took it. "What's this?"
"List," Lucas said. "Stuff Jenkins still needs for the lab."
Dylan unfolded it, squinting. "Your handwriting's trash."
Lucas snorted. "Grade it, then."
Dylan barely glanced again. "C minus."
Yve leaned closer from the truck, head tilting as she followed the crooked lines. She whispered, earnest, "You said you'd teach me how to read these squiggly shapes."
Dylan folded the paper. "Ain't squiggles."
She looked up at him. "Then what?"
"Alphabet," he muttered.
Yve nodded slowly, as if filing it away. "Humans make simple things complicated."
The rest of the scavenging team filtered into the driveway, boots scuffing against concrete, gear clinking softly. Ava adjusted the rifle strap on her shoulder and glanced between Dylan and Yve.
"Everyone set?" she asked, tone even.
Yve nodded and eased the pistol into her holster.
Lucas stepped closer, voice lower, controlled. "I still don't like the risk." A pause. "If something happens to you, we lose more than a runner."
Yve straightened, feet no longer swinging. Her voice stayed calm, but there was weight behind it. "I've survived storms that swallowed ships whole. Please don't treat me as if I'm fragile."
Lucas studied her, measuring—not doubting. Then he inclined his head.
"Very well," he said. He turned to the group. "Be careful. Every decision out there matters. We cannot afford another loss."
He walked back toward the manor, posture steady, responsibility heavy on his shoulders.
Ethan leaned against the truck, grinning. "So… where we going?"
Dylan unfolded the paper, squinting at it. "Uh—Seren… Serenity…" He frowned. "Hell if I know. Lucas writes like a doctor having a stroke."
Ava stepped in, eyes scanning the page once. "Serenity Medical Center?"
"Looks like it," Dylan said. "There's a C. I think."
Ava nodded and turned toward the lead car. "I know the route. I'll take point."
Ethan pushed off the truck and jogged after her. "Ah—good. I was hoping you'd say that."
Ava and Ethan took the lead car. Dylan and Yve climbed into the military truck, while Mia and Harry headed for the last vehicle. Esteban hauled the gates open, metal groaning as the convoy rolled out of the estate.
Inside the lead car, Ethan glanced at Ava. "You had family in Serenity Medical Center?"
Ava shook her head. "What? Uh… not really. My dad's hospital used to sponsor it. We volunteered sometimes."
Ethan nodded. "Ah… that's cool."
Ava gave a short laugh. "Kind of… until the director and my dad's hospital president had a fallout." She shrugged. "Anyway, enough about me. What about you?"
Ethan frowned. "Me? About what?"
"You're Korean, right? What brought you here? Were you born in the US?"
He chuckled softly, accent noticeable but natural. "No. I was exchange student from Korea. Did not even finish degree… world went to hell."
Ava's eyes softened. "Yeah… me too. Do you have family here?"
"No. All in Korea. Just me… alone in big country."
"That's… kinda sad. Lonely too. You must've been scared when all this started," Ava said, eyes on the road.
"Be lying if I said no," Ethan admitted. "Still scared. Every run… gamble between life and death."
Ava nodded, lips tight. "It is terrifying…"
Ethan shifted in his seat, gaze fixed ahead. "But… more confident since Yve joined."
Ava glanced at him. "Really?"
"Yeah… she saved me a few times," he said, voice quiet.
"Wow. What happened?" Ava asked, curiosity softening her tone.
"Well… one time I ran out of bullets," Ethan said. "She stepped in. Dropped the shrieker like it was nothing." He let out a short, uneasy laugh. "I always had suspicions about her, though. She never run out of arrows." He shook his head. "But if I start questioning everything, I die. People turning into monsters already. Asking how she reloads… stupid question."
Ava smirked. "From my point of view? Not that stupid."
Ethan chuckled. "Another time—I was on first floor of the mall. Fighting a few shriekers. She jumped down from second floor to help me." His brows lifted slightly. "Didn't even get hurt."
Ava exhaled, impressed. "That's incredible. She really is something."
"She is," Ethan said quietly. "Scared me, though. But… she saved my life." His voice dropped. "I feel guilty. I was first one to point gun at her."
Ava stayed silent, letting him speak.
"I acted like jerk," Ethan added.
Ava reached over, rested a hand on his arm—brief, steady. "Don't tear yourself apart over it. You were trying to survive. After everything we've seen, no one wants another surprise jumping out at them."
"Yeah…" Ethan breathed out slowly. "Still." A pause. "I haven't even said sorry. I feel like a coward."
Ava gave a small smile. "Then maybe… when you find the time—and the courage—you can apologize to her."
Ethan nodded, jaw tight. "I will. Can't live with this guilt in my chest."
Meanwhile, inside the military truck, Yve was laughing so hard she nearly doubled over, clutching her stomach. Dylan sat behind the wheel, quiet chuckle under his breath, grin tugging at his lips.
"It's not that funny," he said, shaking his head.
"It is pretty funny," Yve said between laughs. "I can never erase your face when you first saw Nierven."
Dylan smirked, pressing the gas to catch the lead car. "I wasn't that scared. Stood my ground."
"Yeah, you did," Yve said, still grinning. "But you fell to your feet."
"Of course. Still human. Would be Thor if I didn't get scared."
Yve doubled over again. "What's funnier is how you walked toward us. You were shaking. You walked like me when I first got legs."
Her laughter filled the cab. Dylan sank a little lower in his seat, embarrassed despite himself, a smile stuck on his face.
Dylan eased off the gas, turning the wheel. "Looks like we're here."
Yve grinned, still giggling. "Ohhh, I wish my sister were here right now. We'd both be laughing at your face." She didn't even try to stop.
"You're real childish," Dylan muttered as he pulled in behind the lead car, smirk tugging at his mouth. "Startin' to regret lettin' you surface."
"Too late," Yve said brightly. "You're stuck with me."
The convoy stopped just short of the treeline. No one rushed out—they moved with intent, practiced. Scouting first.
Ava climbed onto the roof of the truck with easy balance, binoculars already in hand. She scanned the center, slow and methodical. Some figures drifted near the entrance, unfocused, shambling.
Ava dropped back down. "Couple out front. Nothing overwhelming."
Dylan shook his head. "No guns."
Ava nodded. "Too loud."
She glanced toward the building. "So we move in quiet. Take them down one by one."
Yve frowned, gaze fixed on the building. "That's risky. One mistake and someone bleeds. What if I go in first and clear them?"
Dylan's jaw set. "No."
She leaned over the edge of the truck, teasing. "Come on, Dyl. When are you gonna stop babying me?"
"You wanna go in?" Dylan said, voice low, flat. "Then you go through me first."
Ethan snorted before he could stop himself.
Dylan shot him a look. "Knock it off."
Ethan grinned. "Good. Means it's annoying you."
Harry cleared his throat. "I could draw them out. Lead them away while you move in."
Ava turned on him immediately. "Absolutely not."
"I've got a car," Harry pressed. "I can handle it."
Ava's voice dropped, steady but firm. "We already lost your dad. I'll kill you if you insist."
Harry exhaled, frustrated. "But we can't just sit here. Daylight's burning."
Yve hopped down from the truck, landing lightly. She looked at Dylan, earnest now. "Please. Let me do this. I know what I'm doing."
He hesitated. Yve tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Okay, compromise. You come with me. We go in together."
Dylan nodded slowly. "Fine."
"Great," Yve said brightly. "Now… I need water."
Her eyes swept the ground. A shallow puddle glimmered near a tree. She crouched, fingertips skimming the surface. Droplets lifted, swirling like tiny beads before forming into a sleek sword in her hand.
Ava froze mid-step, eyes wide. "Whoa…"
Ethan muttered under his breath, accent soft but noticeable. "Ah… so that's why you never run out of arrows."
Mia rolled her eyes. "Wow. Now you're a magician?"
Yve's smile was faint, serene. "It's not magic. The water… it just gives me what I need."
She turned to Dylan. "You happy?"
"Contented," Dylan said, low, lips twitching into a smirk.
Dylan and Yve stepped out of the treeline, moving toward the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. The air was still—too still—until the shriekers noticed them. Heads snapped, guttural cries shattering the silence, and they charged.
Yve moved first, swift as wind. Her sword arced through two shriekers in one clean strike. Dylan's tomahawk spun, embedding in another's chest. He closed the gap, yanked it free, and swung again—another down.
They moved in sync, weaving between rusted cars, striking fast and precise. Dylan leapt onto a hood, using the height to his advantage, bringing the tomahawk down hard. Yve was relentless, movements fluid, almost dancing. A claw grazed her back; she spun, slicing the attacker down. The shallow mark healed almost instantly, leaving only a faint trace.
Minutes later, silence returned. The last shrieker lay still. Dylan and Yve stood among the wreckage, breathing steady but heavy.
Dylan jogged over, eyes scanning her quickly. He stopped behind her and noticed a tear near her shoulder blade. His brow furrowed. "You got scratched."
He tugged at the fabric, widening the tear. What he saw froze him—no wound, just a faint trace of blood. Skin smooth.
"How… you really immune to their virus?" he asked, voice low.
Yve tilted her head. "Seems like that confirms what the doctor said"
"Well, wasn't sure," Dylan muttered. "Couldn't risk it."
"At some point, you're gonna have to stop overprotecting me," she said, teasing.
"That'll come… someday," Dylan said, deadpan. "When I'm dead."
Yve laughed softly. "Stubborn as a rock, aren't you?"
"Yeah… well I made a promise," he replied.
She shook her head, smiling faintly. "My turn." Her eyes scanned him carefully. "No scratches. Thank heavens."
Dylan turned toward the group, whistling, waving a hand. Then he shrugged off his leather jacket and held it out. "Wear this. Kinda tore your shirt."
Yve frowned. "I'm not wearing that. It's huge."
Dylan ignored her protest. "Stop whining."
Yve crossed her brows and rolled her eyes, letting him finish.
They stepped inside Serenity.
The place was wrecked—cracked walls, peeling paint, water dripping steadily from broken pipes. The air was damp and sour. Harry gagged the moment it hit him.
"Ugh," he muttered, covering his nose. "Smells like a graveyard threw up."
Daylight spilled through shattered glass doors and windows, cutting long beams across the ruined lobby.
Dylan motioned everyone closer and pulled the folded paper from his jacket. "Jenkins needs fresh, sterile syringes, IV stand. And—" He squinted.
"Here," Ava said, taking it. She scanned the list once. "Surgical equipment too."
Dylan nodded. "Alright. Move." He pointed as he spoke. "Ethan, Ava—upstairs. Check every room. Stay sharp. Harry, Mia—take the hall." Then to Yve, quieter but firm. "You're with me."
He looked at the group. "Meet back here in an hour. Don't do anything stupid."
They nodded and split off, boots crunching over broken tile as they disappeared into the shadows.
Dylan and Yve pushed deeper into the main hall. The air grew heavier, thick with damp and silence. Their footsteps echoed past faded signs and flaking paint. Dylan's eyes tracked the walls, reading what little remained.
They stopped in front of a door.
SURGICAL WING.
They stepped inside one of the surgery rooms. Dylan's light fell on the table in the center—and froze. A patient lay there, rigid as stone, tubes dangling from the sides. Pale, stiff, covered by a sheet long since dried and cracked.
Dylan scanned the chaos—empty IV bags, gloves hardened with time, cabinets half-open. Finally, he muttered, voice low, "Grab what we need. Quick."
~~~
Upstairs, Ava and Ethan moved down a long corridor lined with patient rooms. Silence pressed in, broken by faint shuffling. Two figures lurched from the shadows—patients long turned shriekers. Movements jerky, unnatural.
Ava raised her silenced pistol, firing quick, precise shots. Ethan followed, weapon steady. Each muffled crack echoed softly as the creatures dropped.
They exchanged a glance, breathing hard but controlled.
"Clear," Ava whispered, scanning the hallway before continuing.
After clearing the floor, Ethan and Ava rummaged through each private room. Nothing went unused—half-used toothpaste, mouthwash, even unopened soap bars went into their bags. Every little thing mattered now.
On a dusty bedside table, Ethan spotted a bracelet—delicate beads strung with tiny seashells. He turned it in his fingers as Ava leaned in, flashlight catching the shimmer.
"Hmmm… that for you?" she teased.
"What? No." Ethan chuckled, slipping it into his pocket. "It's for Yve… an apology gift."
Ava grinned. "Oohhh, nice."
"Yeah," Ethan muttered, smiling. Then they moved on, eyes sharp, scanning for anything else worth taking.
They reached the VIP wing—three rooms lined the hall, each twice the size of the private ones, filled with expensive furniture now dulled by dust and time. The air smelled stale, heavy with neglect.
Ava pushed open the first door, then yanked the window curtains aside. Sunlight spilled in, revealing a room frozen in time. "Jackpot," Ava muttered, moving to the drawers.
Ethan joined her, rifling through the closet. He pulled out a sleek black tuxedo, the Brioni tag still attached. Inside the jacket pocket was a thick stack of cash, held by a rubber band. He chuckled, holding it up. "Whoa. First time I've ever held this much money in my life."
Ava glanced over, smirking. "Wellp… pretty useless now. Could start a fire with it, though."
"You kidding?" Ethan grinned. "I'm taking this home gonna lie on it. At least make one dream come true, sleeping on a pile of cash."
Ava shook her head, laughing. "Whatever keeps your sanity, Ethan." She opened the bedside cabinet, scanning bottles of medicine and supplements. "Hmm… these are good for my dad's knees. I'm taking them."
Behind her, Ethan dropped his backpack and slipped on the tuxedo. It was a little big, but he straightened the lapels and dusted off his arms. Sunlight caught the fabric just right, making it gleam. For a moment, Ava froze, caught off guard. Ethan looked like he had stepped straight out of a K-drama poster, adjusting his cuffs with a grin.
"What did you study in college?" Ethan asked casually, still admiring the fit. "How do you know all this stuff?"
Ava blinked, snapping out of it. "MD…" Her words trailed as her eyes lingered on him.
Ethan noticed her silence. When he looked down, she was staring—amusement and something softer flickering in her eyes. He froze, suddenly aware of himself in the tuxedo.
"I—uhh…" he started, voice trailing off.
Ava blinked, shaking her head, tapping her chest like clearing a thought. Then she zipped up her backpack and moved on as if nothing happened.
Ethan exhaled slowly, shaking off the awkwardness. He slipped out of the tuxedo, folded it neatly, and placed it back in the closet. His chest felt tight—embarrassed by the silence he couldn't read.
Ava stood, brushing dust off her hands. "Done," she said briskly, heading for the door without another glance.
Ethan lingered a moment, baffled by her sudden distance. He sighed, slung on his backpack, and followed—still wondering what that look had meant.
Just as he stepped through the doorway, Ava's scream ripped through the hall. His heart leapt. He dropped his backpack and sprinted toward the sound.
Inside the second room, Ava was on the floor, pinned by a small shrieker in a tattered patient gown. She held its arms back, straining to keep its claws away, her backpack wedged between them as a barrier.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He grabbed the creature by its hair and yanked hard, pulling it off her. With one swift motion, he slammed it onto the tile. The shrieker thrashed, but Ethan stomped on its chest until it went still.
Breathing hard, he dropped to his knees beside Ava. "You okay?" His hands moved quickly, checking her arms and neck for scratches.
Ava trembled, breath uneven. "I—I'm fine," she whispered.
Ethan pulled her close, holding her tight. "It's okay. You're safe now," he murmured, voice low and steady—even as his own pulse raced.
~~~
Roughly an hour later, the group regrouped in the lobby, backpacks stuffed with supplies.
Dylan pushed a squeaky cart loaded with extra gear he thought might come in handy. "Four, five, six… Alright—everyone safe? Once we get to the vehicles, I'll check for scratches or bites."
They rolled out of the building, relief settling in after a successful run.
The group hadn't gone far when a shriek tore through the air. A mangled figure—one Yve had sliced earlier—lunged from the ground, grabbing Mia's boot. She screamed, stumbling hard.
Dylan was on her in seconds. He stomped down on the creature's arm, snapping it free, then fired a single shot into its chest. The body went still. He dropped to one knee, scanning Mia's legs. Thick boots had taken the brunt—no tear, no bite.
Mia flinched back and instinctively grabbed Dylan instead, fingers digging into his jacket. "Please—" Her voice lowered, almost embarrassed. "I just… I don't feel comfortable with Harry touching me."
The weight of her pressed against Dylan made him stiffen. He froze, jaw tight.
"I'm sorry," she added quickly, eyes darting away like she felt guilty for saying it at all. "I don't mean anything by it. I just… you were already there."
Silence stretched. Ethan gave a crooked smile, trying to lighten it. Harry stood awkwardly, unsure where to put his hands.
Then Dylan's gaze landed on Yve, her lips pressed into a thin line, a faint smile teasing at the corners. She shook her head, then turned and walked toward the vehicles without a word. The others followed.
Dylan let out a heavy breath, adjusting his grip on Mia in a bridal hold. Her arms clung tight as he moved across the lot.
At the convoy, he set her down against the truck. "Alright," he said, steady. "Check for scratches. One by one." He started with Ava.
"She's shook up," Ethan said quietly, nodding toward Ava. "Shrieker nearly got her too."
"You alright?" Dylan asked.
Ava exhaled, nodding. "Yeah."
When it was Yve's turn, she didn't look at him. Her eyes stayed down, focused on the ground. Dylan frowned, uneasy.
"You doing good?" he asked.
Yve nodded, then dropped her sword to the concrete. It dissolved into water that seeped into the cracks. She shrugged off the leather jacket, handing it back to him.
"It's hot," she said simply, then lifted her backpack and set it carefully in the truck bed. The others followed, strapping down the cart.
They finished loading up, and the group headed to their vehicles. Engines rumbled to life one by one.
Dylan climbed into the military truck, hands tight on the wheel, waiting for Yve. She was halfway up the step when Mia shoved past her, quick and forceful.
"Whoa—" Yve stumbled back, startled. Before she could speak, Mia slammed the door and turned to Dylan, eyes wide, voice soft and pleading.
"Can I ride with you, please?" she said, almost sweetly.
Dylan blinked, caught off guard, mouth opening like he was about to say something—
"It's okay," Yve said from outside, calm but measured. "I'll ride with Ava and Ethan."
She shook her head slowly, then turned away.
Dylan stared after her, jaw tight.
Ava jumped when the back door opened. "Oh… I thought you were riding with Dylan?" she asked, brows raised.
Yve slid in, tone resigned. "Well… Mia wanted to ride with him, so…"
Ava and Ethan exchanged a quick glance. Yve turned to the window, eyes fixed on the blur of trees outside.
"Alright," Ava said softly. "Make yourself comfortable."
The door clicked shut. Engines roared. The convoy rolled out, tires crunching against cracked pavement.
The ride was quiet.
Ava and Ethan felt the tension radiating off Yve. She sat rigid, eyes locked on the passing trees. Every few minutes, a soft sigh escaped her lips—light, almost innocent, but sharp enough to cut the quiet.
Neither noticed at first—her claws had slid out, curling against the seat. She dragged them slowly, absentminded, leaving jagged tears in the fabric.
Ava caught it in the rearview mirror. Her stomach tightened. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came.
Ethan glanced back. His breath hitched when he saw the shredded cushion, the glint of claws.
Ava finally spoke, voice careful. "Yve…"
A beat. Without looking from the window, Yve murmured, "Hmm?"
"You okay?" Ava pressed.
"Yeah," Yve said softly.
Ava hesitated. "Something bothering you?"
Yve's fingers stilled. Her head tilted, eyes still on the passing trees. "Hmmm…" She sighed—long, heavy, like the weight of centuries pressing down.
The silence afterward felt louder than any scream.
Ava leaned toward Ethan. "Do something, smartypants," she whispered. "Distract her or something."
Ethan blinked. "What? Why me?"
"Because I'm driving," Ava hissed. "If you don't, she's gonna shred that cushion like paper."
Ethan groaned. "Fine." He drew a deep breath, then turned in his seat, trying to look confident.
"Yve," Ethan called softly.
Silence. Her eyes stayed on the blur outside, distant, lost.
"Yve," he tried again, louder. Still nothing.
He reached back and poked her knee.
The reaction was instant. Her claws shot out, gripping his wrist in a flash. Her eyes snapped to him—thin irises, predator-like.
Ethan froze, heart hammering. For a moment, he swore she'd tear his arm off.
Then her breath hitched. Her body stilled. The wildness in her eyes vanished as realization hit. She let go, claws retracting like they'd never been.
"Oh—are you okay?" Her voice trembled, guilt heavy in every word. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
Ethan rubbed his wrist, flexing it to ease the ache. "Yeah… you didn't."
Yve leaned forward, panic creeping in. "Let me see. Did I scratch you?"
He shook his head. "No. Just… strong grip."
Guilt sank into her chest. She slumped back in her seat, eyes down, sighing heavier than before. Her head shook slowly, like she hated herself for existing in that moment.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Ethan let out a shaky laugh, rubbing his wrist. "You really are terrifying, Yve."
Her eyes stayed low. "I don't know what got into me… I'm really sorry."
"Hey," Ethan said, steady now. "Stop apologizing. I know you didn't mean to hurt me."
Yve nodded faintly, guilt still heavy.
Ethan leaned back, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Now we're even."
Her brows pinched. "Huh?"
He turned toward her, eyes soft. "Listen… I was probably the last person you expected to point a gun at. I haven't apologized for that yet."
Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out the bracelet. He held it out, voice low but sincere. "I'm sorry. I've felt guilty about that moment ever since."
Yve blinked, then chuckled softly despite herself. She slipped the beads over her wrist, cool against her skin.
"Hey… it's okay," she said quietly. "Honestly… I'd point a gun at me too."
Ethan grinned. "Still wasn't cool, though."
"I know," Yve murmured. "But I understand."
"So… we good?" he asked, hope flickering in his eyes.
Yve smiled—real, gentle—and nodded. She leaned forward, giving his shoulder a soft grip. "Yeah. Always has been."
For the first time since leaving Serenity, the tension cracked—just a little.
~~~
Inside the military truck, Dylan shifted in his seat, eyes fixed on the road.
"Thank you," Mia said softly.
He glanced once. "Welcome."
A beat.
"Can I make you some coffee when we get home?" she asked.
Dylan shot her a wary look, trying to read her.
"Just… to show I'm grateful. For saving my life," she added.
He hesitated, thumb tapping the wheel. "S-sure. Coffee sounds… nice."
"Great," she said brightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She stared ahead, smiling to herself.
Dylan kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight. Silence stretched until Mia broke it again.
"What were you doing before the apocalypse?"
He didn't answer immediately. "Bodyguard."
"Oooh… like guarding houses?", she asked, eyes wide.
"No." He cleared his throat. "People. VIPs."
Mia's eyes lit up. "That's so nice. What's it like?"
"Fine. Pays well," he said.
"Did you, like, guard the president or something?" she pressed.
"No. Chief Ops Director."
Mia smiled, leaning back slightly, studying him. "Wow. So you're not only handsome and strong, but also rich and connected."
Dylan's hands tightened on the wheel. "None of that matters anymore."
Silence stretched. Mia tilted her head, voice light, too casual. "Just out of curiosity… are you and Yve together?"
Dylan shifted, eyes narrowing for a moment, then returned to the road. The word sat heavy. "No."
Mia exhaled softly, a small smile flicking across her lips. "Then how come you two are inseparable?"
"I promised her I'd protect her while she's here," Dylan said, flat.
"That's a pretty big promise… but I don't think she needs protection. I mean, she's terrifying, don't you think?"
"To me, she's not."
Mia rolled her eyes, tiny and sharp. "Don't you think maybe the reason you don't see her like I do… is because you've been bewitched?"
Dylan shot her a look that would've iced anyone's spine. "You don't know her like I do."
"Wow… suddenly you're talking a lot," Mia said, a laugh under her breath. "Act like someone under a spell while their master's getting attacked."
Dylan didn't answer. He gripped the wheel tighter, eased the speed up a notch, jaw set.
~~~
Later that night, the air bit cold. Dylan walked the bushwall, flashlight cutting through shadows. Every rustle made him spin, check corners, bushes, the edges of the lawn
He ended up on the hood of the military truck, tomahawk beside him, flashlight resting across his lap. His mind drifted back—the way Yve had looked that day, tending to Mia, then shaking her head and walking to the lead car without a word.
The memory sat like a stone in his chest.
Meanwhile, inside Yve's room, a soft melody played. She lay still on the bed, fingers twisting the music box, watching the tiny mermaid spin in slow circles. The tune filled the quiet.
She sighed, long and heavy, then sat up. Leaning forward, she licked her thumbs and pinched out the candle flame. Smoke curled in the dark.
Yve walked to the window, eyes faintly glowing as they adjusted to the night. Outside, Dylan sat on the hood of the military truck. Another sigh slipped past her lips as she shook her head lightly.
Turning from the window, she moved silently through the dark. No lights needed—her night vision painted the world in silver. Down the stairs, across the kitchen.
She scooped water from the sink, poured it into the kettle, and lit the propane gas. The flame hissed to life. Steam curled as the water boiled. When ready, she made two cups of coffee, set them on a tray, and grabbed her blanket and the music box.
Back in the kitchen, she picked up the tray and stepped outside. Dylan didn't notice until she was a few feet away.
"Why aren't you sleepin'?" he asked, voice low.
"Couldn't sleep," Yve said softly. "I made you coffee."
Dylan stood and took the tray from her hands. "Thanks."
"You're wearing thin clothes," Yve said, brows pinched. "You asking to get sick?"
"It's fine," he muttered. "I can handle it."
She shook her head, spreading the blanket across the hood of the military truck. She climbed up, patting the space beside her. Dylan joined without a word. She draped the blanket over their waists. The night air bit at their faces as they sipped coffee in silence.
Dylan took a slow sip, eyes scanning the dark stretch of road. "You alright? You seem… in a foul mood."
"I'm fine," Yve said softly. "Just a little tired, that's all."
Minutes passed, quiet and steady. Dylan spoke again. "You pissed at me?"
Yve smiled faintly. "No. Why would I be?"
"You were kinda avoiding me earlier."
"Well… I'm not avoiding you now," she said, shrugging. "But yeah… I was annoyed."
"Really?" Dylan scratched his jaw. "Sorry."
Dylan glanced at her, brow knit.
Yve tilted her head. "You really don't know why I was pissed."
He rubbed his thigh. "Uh…"
She groaned. "Mia shoved me aside and you just stared at me with those big, dumb eyes."
"Oh." He exhaled. "Sorry. I—caught off guard." A beat. "Shouldn't've been."
"Relax." Her mouth curved, then broke. "I'm messing with you."
She laughed, light and unguarded, tapping the hood as if the truck itself shared the joke. Dylan shook his head.
"Why d'you do that?"
"I like your face when it panics," she said, pleased.
The laughter ebbed. Moonlight washed the hood silver. She lifted her wrist. "Ethan gave me this. Apology gift."
Dylan leaned in, fingers grazing the beads. "Looks good. You two okay now?"
"Yeah." She nodded. "He apologized."
"He's a good kid." He murmured. "
"He is," she said softly. "Too young for this world. Too gentle."
"Least he's still standin'."
Her eyes dimmed a little. "If I could turn him into a siren and take him home, I would. He's… so innocent."
"Not anymore."
She smiled, sad and fond. "I always wanted a little brother. Feels like I finally got one."
"He told me that," Dylan said. "Said you're like his sister."
She looked at him, moonlight caught in her eyes. "Do you think the world can go back?"
Dylan didn't answer.
She followed his gaze to the moon. "I'd like to experience a normal world with you."
He stared into his cup, then murmured, almost to himself, "Yeah. Me too."
They drank in silence, both pretending that hope wasn't fragile.