The last clang of metal boots faded into the dripping darkness of the sewer. Vivian sat hunched against the cold, damp concrete, her face pale and slick with sweat. Her hand clutched at her side, where a dark stain bloomed on her tattered shirt.

  Her face was pale, streaked with sewer grime and the crimson stain of blood,on her now bandaged head. Her breath coming in shallow gasps.

  The stench of rancid water and decay hung heavy in the sewer system, a constant reminder of the world above, teetering on the brink. Water dripped from unseen cracks, the echoes stretching through the tunnels like ghostly whispers. A chill clung to the damp air, seeping into their clothes, making the exhaustion in their bones even heavier. The fight at the bakery had been brutal, a chaotic dance of desperation against a mutated horror that had sent shivers down even the most seasoned spines. For them weakness wasn’t an option.

  "Easy there," Whiz murmured, his voice soft as he adjusted the bandage. He was a pragmatist, but beneath the hardened exterior beat the heart of a medic. He had seen wounds like this before, knew the slow drag toward unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.

  Jace stood guard by the sewer entrance, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his knife. His muscles were tense, eyes flicking between the darkness of the tunnels and Vivian. The city wasn’t safe—not above ground, not below. But he still found himself glancing back at her, longer than necessary. Her beauty was a startling contrast to the grime and despair of their reality. Tall and slender, with platinum blonde hair that cascaded down her back like liquid moonlight, she looked like an angel. Her skin was porcelain pale, her features delicate, and her forest green eyes, framed by long, curled lashes, held a depth of sadness that tugged at something deep in his chest. She was an anomaly, a breath of fresh air in a world suffocating in decay. He wasn't the only one captivated; he had seen the way the others looked at her, a mixture of awe and disbelief. Even Whiz had stolen a few glances while tending to her wound. She was too pure, too beautiful, to be caught in this nightmare.

  Whiz finished his work, grimacing. "It's not pretty, but it'll hold for now. You need rest."

  Vivian shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm fine. Just… tired."

  "Fine?" Jace scoffed, stepping away from the entrance. "You nearly bled out back there! We should get you to the base."

  "No," she said firmly, her green eyes meeting his. "I won't go."

  Jace’s jaw tightened. "Why not? It’s the safest place."

  "I have my reasons," she replied, voice tight.

  Whiz sighed, sensing the tension thickening. Pushing her would only make things worse. "Alright, alright. But we can’t stay here. We need better cover."

  The journey to find shelter was slow, filled with quiet moments of unease. Shadows shifted in the corners of their vision, and every distant groan of the city sent their hands to their weapons. Vivian’s steps became slower, her breathing uneven. More than once, she had to lean against the wall to steady herself. Jace noticed, but said nothing. He was watching, though. Closely.

  Finally they found it. The supermarket was ransacked but still held a few untouched supplies. They barricaded themselves inside the storage room, the heavy metal door a flimsy shield against the horrors outside. The air inside was stale, but at least it was quiet. Vivian sank into a corner, her face pale and drawn. Whiz offered her a can of peaches, but she refused, shaking her head weakly.

  "You need to eat," he insisted gently.

  "I'm not hungry," she mumbled, turning her face away.

  Jace and Whiz exchanged worried glances. Jace ran a hand through his hair, his frustration barely held in check. "She's getting worse," he said, voice low. "We need to do something."

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  "I know," Whiz replied, his fingers tightening around the med kit. "But she won’t go to the base. We can’t force her."

  Jace hesitated, his gaze flicking back to Vivian. "Razor said… if something went wrong, we call him immediately."

  Whiz exhaled sharply. "I remember. But if we call him, she’ll have no choice. And she might hate us for it."

  "Hate us or not, she won’t last the night like this."

  Their hushed conversation was cut short by a soft sound. Vivian. They turned just in time to see her slump against the wall, her head tilting to the side, her breathing shallow.

  "Vivian!" Jace exclaimed, crossing the room in an instant. He knelt beside her, gently shaking her shoulder. "Vivian, wake up!"

  Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused, her pupils sluggish. "I… I don't feel so good," she whispered, her voice barely there.

  Whiz pressed two fingers to her pulse and frowned. "Her pulse is weak. She’s lost too much blood." A sharp pang of fear twisted in Jace’s gut. He looked at Whiz, his voice raw. "We have to get her to the base. Now."

  Whiz nodded grimly. "I’m calling Razor."

  Jace didn't need to say anything else. Whiz pulled the earpiece to his ear, his fingers moving swiftly. The crackle of static filled the air, followed by Razor’s familiar, controlled voice.

  "Whiz. What’s the situation?"

  "Vivian’s not doing well," Whiz said quickly, his voice urgent. "She’s lost too much blood. We need help, now."

  There was a brief pause before Razor responded. "Where are you?"

  "We’re at the old supermarket near the medical center," Whiz answered, his eyes flicking to Jace, who stood at the ready, waiting for any sign that they would have to move quickly. "It’s bad out here."

  "Hold tight. We’ll be there soon."

  The line went dead. Whiz pulled the earpiece away and looked at Jace. "They’re on their way. Stay ready."

  Seconds stretched into minutes. The air in the supermarket felt thick with tension. Every distant rumble of the city made their hands instinctively reach for their weapons. They didn’t know if the infected were coming or if they were just waiting, but either way, they weren’t going to risk being caught unprepared.

  Then, finally, the heavy sound of boots echoed outside. Footsteps. The unmistakable rumble of a vehicle’s engine. The team’s muscles tensed as the door to the supermarket creaked open, and Razor stepped in, his skull balaclava hiding his face. He didn’t waste any time scanning the room. His eyes immediately locked on Vivian, her body weak, her face pale against the dark backdrop of the storage room.

  Behind him came Gator and Shadow, their eyes sharp, taking in the scene. It didn’t take much to understand what had happened. Razor’s gaze flickered to Whiz, who didn’t have to explain further. The urgency in the air was enough.

  "Is she alright?" Gator asked, stepping forward, his face hard with concern.

  Whiz didn’t sugarcoat it. "She’s lost too much blood. She needs to get back to base—fast."

  Razor’s jaw tightened beneath the mask. He didn’t speak, but his movements were swift and efficient as he moved to Vivian’s side. His hands were steady, checking her vitals without wasting time. There was a grimness to his actions, a quiet urgency that spoke volumes.

  He looked up at Whiz, his voice low, as always. "She’s still alive."

  "I’m not sure how long that will last," Whiz muttered, his gaze flickering to Vivian’s unconscious form.

  Razor nodded once, then turned to Jace. "We’re moving her."

  Jace stepped forward, but Razor stopped him with a sharp gesture. "No. I’ve got this."

  There was no argument, no hesitation. Razor knelt down, his movements controlled as he lifted Vivian in one smooth motion, cradling her against him. His grip on her was firm, protective, yet methodical. His mind was a storm of focus, calculating the best route to safety.

  "Get the Humvee ready," Razor ordered, his voice clipped and authoritative. Gator and Shadow immediately moved to the entrance, scanning the surrounding area for any sign of danger.

  Jace looked to Whiz, whose eyes were still on Vivian. He didn’t need to speak; they all knew the stakes. They couldn’t waste any more time.

  Razor moved quickly toward the exit, keeping his gaze sharp as he carried Vivian in his arms. Every step felt heavier, but there was no room for hesitation. They had to move, and they had to move fast.

  When they reached the Humvee, Razor didn’t waste a second. He placed Vivian inside, his eyes never leaving her face. She was fragile, too fragile. But there was no time for sentimentality. He had a job to do.

  "Whiz, stay with her," Razor said, as he slid into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, and they drove off into the dark streets, away from the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

  As the Humvee rumbled on, Razor’s mind didn’t wander. He focused on the road, on the mission, on getting them all out of here alive. But his gaze flickered to Vivian every now and then. She was a ghost in this world, too beautiful for the nightmare they were living. And for now, that was enough to keep him moving.