CHAPTER 46: MY WIFE... MY LIFELONG PARTNER.

Cassel — POV

At first, I was furious because that idiot Frederick had cost me the chance to get closer to Rosalia.

The anger wasn’t simple irritation; it was a sharp, biting rage that crawled up my spine like wildfire.

My jaw clenched so tightly it ached, and for a moment I could hear nothing but the pounding of my own heartbeat echoing in my skull.

Damn it.

I had been just a breath away from kissing her... just a whisper away from tasting her warmth, from claiming something I had been hungering for far longer than I ever admitted.

I had been a heartbeat away from placing my mark on her.

If I had kissed her then...

If I had marked her then...

That way-

No one would dare covet what’s mine ever again.

My hands tightened around the steering wheel, the leather creaking under the pressure of my grip.

Yet even through that anger,

I forced myself to breathe.

Despite my anger, I’m not the type who lashes out simply because things don’t unfold the way I want.

I have never been the type to bend to fate.

I can write my own destiny.

I can obtain anything I desire—no matter what stands in my way.

As for Rosalia...

Behind me, she sat quietly beside Henry, like a delicate painting—so gentle, so painfully beautiful.

She looked utterly out of place in the shattered world outside the window.

The landscape was all ruin and ash: fallen buildings, shattered glass, smoke curling in the distance, corpses of zombies lying twisted on the sidewalks.

And in the midst of all this devastation... she sat there glowing.

She looked far too radiant, too refined—someone who should be living a beautiful, complete, blissful life in a bright world filled with flowers and sunlight, not in this savage, terrifying apocalypse where every breath tastes of death and dust.

But I am selfish.

Rosalia...

Even if I know you don’t belong to my dark world, or my wretched life, I still can’t let you go.

I can’t let you go.

You should have never entered my life, because that was a one-way ticket—with no exit whatsoever.

The moment you stepped into my world... my heart chose for me.

And hearts once awakened, once revived from death, do not return to silence.

There is no escape for you now.

Not after you touched my dead heart and made it beat again—after seasons of silence and death.

Not after you breathed life into parts of me I thought were long buried beneath blood and despair.

Through the mirror, I saw Rosalia glaring at Henry in anger—her brows furrowed, her soft lips pressed into a trembling line, her eyes burning with emotion I could not decipher from that distance.

I don’t like the way she cares for other men, but since I am certain she feels no romantic affection toward Henry—or anyone else—I am willing to overlook it.

But—

The moment she tried to unbutton Henry’s shirt...

Only the gods know how much willpower I used not to drag her away from him.

My fingers twitched on the steering wheel.

My breath caught somewhere between my chest and throat.

My vision darkened for a split second, tinted with a heavy, raw shade of jealousy.

The amount of strength it took to hide my unnatural jealousy, my obsession... the selfishness burning in me at the thought of the woman I love touching another man’s body—even if it was for healing, even if it was to keep him alive—was almost unbearable.

I know Henry is acting strangely.

I know he might be infected.

I know Rosalia has no intention other than saving him.

But the idea-

The image-

The reality of her hands on him made my blood boil.

And when she cried because of him, my blood surged with fury.

My chest tightened violently, as though someone had struck me with the blunt edge of a blade.

My rage was greater than any storm this world has ever seen.

I nearly lost my mind.

Dark whispers curled inside me, tempting me to lock Rosalia away—so she wouldn’t be able to see anyone, or smile for anyone, or cry for anyone... except me.

To isolate her from the world.

To take her away—somewhere only the two of us existed.

A place where her tears, her smiles, her every breath belonged solely to me.

But when I saw Henry’s wounds, all those emotions and thoughts dimmed—just enough for reason to slip back in.

I remembered how he sacrificed himself for me in my past life.

I remembered how he died miserably, covered in blood and dust, after clearing my path time and time again, saving me more times than I can count.

If not for him—and my subordinates—I would have died under the weight of the world’s cruel rules and my family’s greed.

I will never be someone who loses himself to selfish cravings and forgets the kindness he once received.

In that previous life, they gave me everything—even their lives.

So this time, I intend to provide them with the best life possible.

A life no one else in this apocalypse will ever have.

And for that reason, I cannot allow my instincts and selfishness to control me.

I kept thinking of a way to save Henry from turning into a zombie.

Last time, I didn’t make it in time.

Last time, I witnessed his death under Cecil’s bullets.

Last time, I failed him.

This time, I won’t let that happen.

And I certainly won’t allow him to become a lifeless creature—feeding on humans, hollow and soulless.

Should I bring Mary and threaten her?

Her ability should be enough to purify him.

I was already planning to drive toward the group where Mary and the others were.

But something unexpected happened.

A surprise.

A blessing.

Or perhaps... a miracle.

I watched Rosalia’s hand move toward Henry—and slowly, impossibly, breathtakingly—the wounds on his abdomen began to heal.

Impossible...

Does she possess the same ability as Mary?

But how?

And why?

Henry’s face gradually returned to normal under Rosalia’s healing touch—but she was not fine.

I remembered how Mary always refused to heal others, saying the pain that came with using that power was unbearable—too much for humans or even gods.

Could it be—?

When I saw that Henry had fully recovered, yet Rosalia’s hand still glowed fiercely, her skin turning pale, her expression clearly twisted in pain—I could no longer sit still.

I opened the door and rushed to pull Rosalia away from Henry.

No matter how she screamed or begged, I didn’t listen.

I should have taken her away much earlier.

If I had, she wouldn’t look like this.

She wouldn’t have been hurt this badly.

She wouldn’t have been covered in blood.

Rosalia... what am I going to do with you?

Every time, you make me wish I could hide you from the world.

Every time, you awaken the darkest, most selfish desires inside me.

And every time, you make my heart bleed for you.

Are you satisfied with what you’ve turned me into?

This state where I feel like dying—simply because I witness your pain and suffering.

This state where I want to cage you, perhaps even swallow you whole—so you’ll never be hurt again, and you’ll never leave me.

So I will no longer feel this constant fear for you.

This anxiety... this misery.

Our first kiss was fierce—deep—but even then, it didn’t feel deep enough.

I wanted to devour her entirely, to feel her existence, her warmth, her breath-

Or I would go insane.

That foolish girl didn’t even know how to kiss.

But that’s good—it means she has never kissed anyone but me.

Rosalia.

Rosalia.

Please... don’t drive me mad.

Otherwise, I will do things to you—things I may regret later.

This obsession... this love...

It isn’t something I can control.

And I fear it will either destroy me—or destroy you.

But I’d rather have it destroy us together.

...

I carried Rosalia to the car, and the first thing I did after placing her on the seat was glance at Henry to check his condition.

I gritted my teeth in silence—

But fine.

That kiss from earlier was enough to make me overlook her concern for other men in front of me.

"Henry... Henry, wake up. Are you okay?"

Her voice trembled with worry and fear.

The sound tugged at something deep inside me.

Something fierce.

Something painful.

Seeing Henry’s face—no longer pale, his complexion returning to normal—I spoke calmly.

"He’s fine. Look, all his wounds have healed. There’s no blackening, no sign of the zombie virus anywhere. He’s probably just exhausted after draining all his strength. Even Frederick is unconscious right now."

When she heard me, she turned to glance at Frederick’s seat, then back at me with those gentle black eyes of hers.

Only after checking Henry for what felt like the millionth time—and just before I lost my patience enough to throw him out of the car—she finally looked at me with a bright smile.

"Good... good. This way Henry won’t die, and Cas won’t be sad."

Her smile was radiant, but what caught my attention wasn’t the smile—it was the meaning behind her words.

Did that mean everything she had done to save Henry...

Was it for me?

So that I wouldn’t be sad?

For me?

I didn’t know what I was supposed to say or think at that moment, but it didn’t matter—Rosalia didn’t give me the chance anyway.

She suddenly collapsed onto me, unconscious.

I gently turned her head toward me and examined her.

She must have fainted from exhaustion as well.

Looking at her small, beautiful face—so tiny I could almost cover it with one hand—my eyes gleamed with a deep, dark light.

This feeling... was addictive.

The feeling that every action, every word, every movement from someone was because of you.

The feeling that someone would do anything—everything—for your sake.

The feeling that even their breath was filled with your name.

It was beautiful, intoxicating, and deeply satisfying—so much so that I couldn’t resist.

I placed my lips on her soft, pink ones, still slightly swollen from our earlier kiss.

But this time, I didn’t kiss her roughly, nor did I try to devour her.

Instead, I brushed my lips gently against hers—soft, slow, almost feather-light.

I could barely feel her warmth on my mouth... yet my heart felt full.

"Sir... is Miss Rosalia your wife?"

A small, curious voice reached my ears. I lifted my head to see the four children in the backseat staring at me wide-eyed.

Well... being caught red-handed kissing an unconscious girl was not ideal.

My face stayed calm and emotionless, but the single word wife that the little girl used sent a strange warmth through me.

I felt... that the word wasn’t unpleasant at all.

My wife...

Somehow, I couldn’t stop imagining the day this girl would become entirely mine—bearing my name... my wife, my lifelong partner.