CHAPTER 46: NOTHING BUT CHOCOLATE

The gym was quiet for once.

Not empty— it was never truly empty during business hours—but quiet in that strange lull between the after-work rush and the late-night lifters. The bass-heavy playlist still vibrated through the walls, but it felt more like background hum than a pulse now.

Sera leaned against the front counter, scanning the equipment room checklist again even though she’d already confirmed it. Everything was where it should be. Nothing was out of place. Still, her eyes lingered on the inventory sheet longer than necessary. The creature inside her stirred restlessly.

It wasn’t hungry.

Not exactly.

Just bored. Edgy. Alert.

April meant spring was on its way, and it was also one month closer to the ticking clock in the back of her mind. Apparently, even zombies reacted to the change in the seasons.

Treadmills hummed. Distant weights clanged. A girl in the corner grunted with each deadlift, music bleeding from her earbuds.

Sera stood at the front desk, restocking the fridge with protein shakes and energy drinks, her motions mechanical and detached. She worked in silence. She usually did. But lately, even the rhythm of routine hadn’t calmed the restless static humming beneath her skin.

The creature inside her wasn’t hungry.

Not exactly.

It was just... twitchy.

Discontent.

She’d been holding it in too tightly for too long, like a coil wound too far. Even her last kill hadn’t satisfied it. And now, it hovered just beneath her surface, watching the world through her eyes and growling at every laugh that felt too sharp, every flickering light, every detail that wasn’t right.

Even the air felt off. The temperature too warm. The ventilation wrong.

She cracked open a bottle of water and sipped slowly, standing near the counter as she scanned the gym floor.

That was when she saw him.

Lachlan.

He strode in from the staff hallway, his coat half unzipped, a plain T-shirt stretched across his chest, black joggers rolled at the ankle. His hair was damp—he’d probably just showered—but his grin was warm and lazy.

"Hey, peach," he said, dropping something onto the counter.

Sera blinked.

A bar of chocolate.

She stared at it for a long second.

It wasn’t the cheap kind, either. Not the waxy milk bars or the discount stuff from the vending machine. This was dark, imported—fancy wrapping with cursive script and a red wax seal.

He shrugged, hands in his pockets. "You looked like you needed it."

She didn’t answer right away.

She didn’t know how.

The creature inside of her leaned forward curiously, sniffing the scent that clung to him—soap, wind, salt. A little adrenaline from whatever training he’d just finished. Not a threat. Familiar. Warm. It purred quietly.

Sera picked up the chocolate bar and turned it in her fingers.

No expectations.

No questions.

Just a small gift.

She tucked it into the drawer behind the desk and closed it without a word.

"You on break soon?" he asked, voice casual.

She nodded. "Ten minutes."

"Good," Lachlan said, already walking toward the staff room. "I’ll meet you in there."

True to her word, she clocked out exactly ten minutes later, peeled off her hoodie, and made her way toward the breakroom.

Lachlan was already there, sprawled on the battered leather couch with a protein bar in one hand and a half-empty water bottle in the other. He glanced up when she entered and nudged a second chair toward her with his foot.

"Sit," he said. "Let’s pretend we’re normal for fifteen minutes."

Sera sat, slowly, settling into the chair like it might disappear under her.

He tossed her a chocolate bar again. A second one.

She caught it one-handed.

They didn’t speak for a while.

The room buzzed with the faint sound of old gym playlists bleeding through the walls—some overplayed pop remix pulsing beneath the steady churn of the HVAC system.

Sera peeled the wrapper back slowly.

The scent hit her first—bitter, rich, just the right edge of sweet. She broke off a square and placed it on her tongue, letting it melt slowly. Her eyes closed for just a second.

The creature inside her stilled.

It liked this.

Not just the sugar.

But the moment.

The warmth.

Lachlan watched her carefully, not pushing.

"Is it good?" he asked eventually.

She nodded once, still chewing.

"Thought it might be. That one’s my favorite."

She glanced at him. "You have favorites?"

"Of course I do," he said. "I’m full of surprises."

They lapsed into silence again.

But it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Sera chewed another square, slower this time.

"I used to like chocolate," she said quietly. "Before."

He didn’t ask before what.

He knew that she wouldn’t tell him even if he did.

And she appreciated that.

After a while, he said, "You ever think about leaving?"

She looked at him sharply.

"Not like that," Lachlan said quickly. "I mean... just packing up and disappearing. No more classes. No more shifts. Just... go."

She hesitated for a moment before nodding her head. "All the time," she admitted with a shrug.

He leaned back, head tipping toward the ceiling. "I think about it, too. More than I should."

"You’re a soldier," she reminded him, like that was a reason why he wouldn’t want out.

"Doesn’t mean I don’t want out," he replied as if reading her mind.

They both knew the truth: there was no out. Not really. Not for either of them. But talking about it—entertaining the fantasy—felt good. Like taking off your shoes after walking too far. It was a temporary relief.

Sera finished the last piece of chocolate and folded the wrapper carefully.

Lachlan glanced at her hands. "You’re always so precise."

"Habit."

"It suits you."

She didn’t smile.

But something in her chest loosened.

The creature nudged her thoughts gently, rubbing up against the edges of her mind like a cat seeking comfort.

It liked this one.

It liked the way he didn’t expect things from her.

Didn’t push.

Didn’t ask why she disappeared for days at a time or why her eyes looked older than they should. He didn’t try to fix her or offer unsolicited advice.

He just sat with her.

A steady presence.

Solid.

Safe.

Sera leaned back in her chair, folding her arms loosely across her stomach, letting the silence linger.

"You don’t ask questions," she said after a while.

Lachlan cracked half a smile. "That’s the secret to life, peach. Ask less. Listen more. People tell you everything if you wait long enough."

"And if they don’t?"

He shrugged. "Then they don’t owe you the truth."

She stared at him.

"You believe that?"

"Yeah. Doesn’t mean I won’t be curious," he said. "But I’d rather be the guy people come to than the guy who’s always knocking."

Sera didn’t answer.

But the creature inside her purred louder.

It liked that.

It liked him.

Not just as a presence, but as a scent. As a steady rhythm. As someone who existed without jarring her instincts. It wasn’t trust, not fully—but it was the closest she’d come to peace in weeks.

When her break ended, she stood and tossed the wrapper into the bin.

Lachlan didn’t try to follow her. He didn’t ask for more. Just leaned his head back, eyes half-lidded.

"Let me know if you want another bar," he said. "I’ve got a stash."

She paused in the doorway.

Turned slightly.

And gave him a look—flat, unreadable, but softer than before.

"Thanks."

Then she walked back onto the gym floor, the chocolate still warm on her tongue, her body just a little more settled, her mind just a little quieter.

And behind her, the creature curled up, satisfied in more ways than one.