CHAPTER 73: SILENT RESCUE

Rosalia — POV

My mind only shattered when fear seized me—icy, unyielding, complete.

In that instant, I thought this was the end. And something inside me simply... shattered.

My breath broke apart.

My thoughts scattered.

My whole body felt like it was being dragged into a dark void.

When despair swallowed my chest, my eyes landed on Liz’s face—flat, empty, unlike anything I had ever seen.

In her hand burned a blazing orb, so bright I could barely register its shape. The heat coming from it felt like a lethal judgment pressed against my skin.

I remember thinking, This is the moment.

This is the conclusion.

This is where I die again.

And then everything exploded.

It happened so quickly that I couldn’t keep pace. An unseen force suddenly collided with Liz, sending her tumbling backward at a velocity so intense that the very air around her seemed to rupture with a loud crack.

I blinked once.

And her body shot into the air as if she were nothing more than a rag doll.

I didn’t even have time to gasp before she collided with the shelf behind her.

Wood splintered. Objects flew. The crash echoed through my skull.

My heart froze. My mind went blank.

I stood there, backing in confusion, unable to make sense of the chaotic scene I had just witnessed, when suddenly, something warm and reassuring wrapped gently around me.

Arms.

Strong arms.

Voices erupted all around us—frantic, shocked, layered over each other.

But one voice cut straight through the chaos.

Cassel’s.

The moment his voice reached me, I could feel the fear trembling beneath every word—raw, sharp, impossible for him to hide.

"Rosalia, are you alright? Look at me—are you okay?"

He kept repeating it, again and again, as if stopping might make me disappear.

Before I could answer, before I could even inhale, Cassel had already lifted me into his arms, holding me gently as he carried me away from the shattered debris.

His warmth seeped into me, steadying my shaking body, settling something deep inside me.

Safety. Warmth. Shelter.

All of it hit me at once, overwhelming and grounding me at the same time.

For the first time since Liz lit that fire in my room, my chest stopped shaking.

The claws of fear loosened.

The pressure crushing my lungs eased.

I breathed—truly breathed—like someone who had just been dragged out of drowning water.

With Cassel there, the terror that had swallowed me whole simply... disappeared.

His voice was soft, desperate.

His hands are careful, trembling.

His warmth wrapped around me like armor.

In that moment, everything in him reached for everything in me, pulling me back from the freezing darkness trying to take me.

With urgent, shaky movements, he checked my arms, my shoulders, my legs—every inch—as if he needed to confirm I was still here, still whole.

Are you in pain anywhere? Talk to me. You’re fine.

The intensity of his gaze made me feel small. My fingers curled into his shirt on their own, gripping tightly. I couldn’t stop myself. Letting go felt like I’d fall apart all over again.

What really stunned me was how he reacted when he saw my foot.

Just a thin streak of blood. A small scrape from debris.

Not deep. Not serious.

But the way Cassel reacted... anyone would think I was dying.

His jaw tightened until the muscles jumped beneath the skin. His hands touched the wound gently, steady but full of a barely restrained fury.

He checked that nothing was broken. Then tore a clean strip of cloth and wrapped my foot with it, covering the scraped skin as if he were handling fragile porcelain.

"It’s alright," he murmured. "We’ll take care of it properly when we get home. It’s nothing serious."

His voice was calm. Reassuring.

But his eyes were blazing—as if he was ready to set the world on fire.

"I’m okay now," I said, though my voice trembled.

Cassel looked at me then—furious, heartbroken—his expression pulled apart by too many emotions at once.

"Okay? Are you sure?"

I don’t know why... but that question broke something in me.

Those two simple words—gentle, worried, desperate—cut straight through me.

Was I sure?

No.

No, I wasn’t okay.

Not even close.

My chest tightened so hard I thought I’d collapse. My breath caught. Heat stung my eyes until everything blurred.

I... I wasn’t okay.

I could barely hold myself together.

I was only standing because Cassel held me. Before he came, I had been sinking—literally unable to stop myself from falling apart.

Terrified down to my bones. Terrified enough to break.

I thought I would die again.

Alone.

Just like the first time.

No rescue.

No comfort.

No voice calling my name.

No arms caught me as the world went dark.

No warmth to fight the cold.

Just me—dying, forgotten.

Alone.

The tears burst out of me all at once—hot, unstoppable.

"I... I was scared. So scared..."

My voice fractured, then collapsed entirely. Tears streamed faster, messier, dragging every fear I’d been holding down to the surface.

I cried from somewhere deep inside—the place where old scars and buried memories lived.

Cassel didn’t say a word.

He didn’t try to fix it with empty comfort.

He just held me—firm, warm, steady—one hand stroking my head with endless gentleness, the other shielding my shaking body.

"I thought... I thought I was going to die again..." I choked out, barely aware of what I was saying anymore.

The memories of my first death clawed at me—cold, dark, suffocating.

"Bwhaaaaaaaa—!!!"

The sound ripped out of me—raw, humiliating, desperate.

It echoed like a newborn’s wail.

But Cassel didn’t flinch.

He didn’t loosen his hold.

He didn’t judge me.

He didn’t look away.

He just held me through all of it.

Slowly—painfully—the weight in my chest began to melt.

My breathing steadied.

The shaking calmed.

The tears slowed.

But just as I was settling, another voice sliced through the air—sharp, furious, dripping venom.

"Liz—are you insane? What the hell do you think you’re doing?!"

Henry.

I froze.

When I looked at him, I didn’t see Henry at all.

Not the charming fox with the sly grin.

Not the strategist who always stayed composed.

Not the controlled, clever man I knew.

This Henry was wild—eyed, jaw locked, fury pouring off him like heat.

And then I realized why.

Liz was standing.

Walking toward us.

Unaffected by the impact.

Face still emotionless—so empty it made my skin crawl.

Henry lifted his hand, power crackling at his fingertips.

My stomach dropped.

Liz loved Henry. She’d told me herself.

That love—fragile and open—was what made her vulnerable to psychic control.

If Henry attacked her...

If the man she loved struck her...

It would destroy her.

I couldn’t let that happen. Not to her. Not to him. Not to any of us.

We’d survived too much.

Fought through hell together.

Become something rare—a family in a shattered world.

I refused to watch that fall apart.

Adrenaline surged as I pushed Cassel aside and yelled:

"Henry! Don’t hurt her—stop!"

Henry snapped toward me. His green eyes were almost black with rage.

I forced myself to speak through my shaking voice.

"Henry—there’s a zombie. A zombie is controlling her."

Shock. Confusion. Horror flickered across his face.

The others rushed in then—breathless, weapons lifted.

Henry’s fury cracked, replaced by dawning understanding as he really looked at Liz—her stiff movements, her hollow stare.

Liz wasn’t there.

Not really.

She wasn’t in control.

I raised my voice for everyone to hear:

"There’s a zombie child with psychic abilities. It’s controlling her."

Henry blinked, thrown off.

"What? Where?"

"There—under the box."

They followed my pointing finger.

And then saw it.

Curled under a broken crate, barely visible in shadow, was a body so tiny it looked unreal.

A small, unborn zombie child.

A collective gasp swept through the room.

"Oh my God..." Frederick whispered.

"Was it... born after the mother turned?"

"Holy hell..."

"It looks weak though... shouldn’t be hard."

But just as they voiced their suspicions, the tiny creature slowly lifted its head—silent and deliberate—and fixed its gaze upon them.

Its small frame was gentle yet unnerving, and those hollow, pitch-black eyes seemed to reach into their very souls, silencing all words instantly.

I tried to step forward—to explain more—but arms wrapped around me again, tight and unmovable.

Cassel.

His hold tightened around my waist and shoulders, pulling me firmly back against his chest.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm and gentle on my ear, his voice low, commanding, and undeniably possessive.

"Who gave you permission to move?"

My heart skipped a beat.

"I... I just want—"

One look at his expression—dark, dangerous, commanding—and my voice died.

It looked like a dark, vicious beast standing before me, ready to devour me at the slightest movement or sound.

Cassel was so terrifying in that moment that I could feel the top of my head tingling.

If I had been a cat, my entire fur would have fluffed up in pure terror, standing straight toward the sky.

Even as a human, I felt my skin crawl.

This Cassel looked far more frightening than any zombie or monster one might encounter.