CHAPTER 303: APOCALYPSE ROMANCE 13

The road eventually spat them out into the countryside—what was left of it.

Ruined billboards leaned against blackened trees. Smoke clung to the horizon like a bruise. Behind them, the city still burned, its orange glow licking the sky like an open furnace.

Ahead lay quiet hills and broken fences, the kind of emptiness that looked both peaceful and terrifying.

They have rammed against cars, monsters, and humans alike just to get out. She even have to detonate a crumple of cars just to move from traffic.

It wouldn’t be great to be trapped inside the city.

Sasha’s hands were locked on the steering wheel, knuckles white. The adrenaline was wearing off, replaced by the slow ache of exhaustion.

Every muscle in her body screamed. Beside her, Alvaro was slipping in and out of consciousness, head lolling against the seatbelt.

"Hey. Don’t you dare fall asleep," she snapped, giving him a quick glance. "You sleep, you die. Got it?"

He groaned softly. "You’re terrible at bedside manners."

"Good thing this isn’t a hospital," she muttered. "We’re fresh out of nurses."

He cracked a weak grin. "That’s fine. I prefer bossy drivers anyway."

She rolled her eyes. "You really don’t know when to joke and not to joke."

"I do," he mumbled, eyes half-closed. "I just choose not to."

The road dipped into a forest path—narrow, winding, and overgrown—but it offered cover from whatever flying nightmares still circled above.

Sasha followed it until the armored car’s headlights caught the outline of an old service station at the edge of a dried-up riverbed.

"Perfect," she said. "A murder movie setting. Just what I needed."

She parked behind a collapsed truck, killed the engine, and listened. No screeches. No buzzing wings. Only the crackle of fire somewhere far away and the soft whistle of wind through the trees.

For the first time in hours, the world wasn’t screaming.

"Alright, big guy," she said, turning toward Alvaro. "Time to play doctor."

He gave a weak chuckle. "That supposed to comfort me or terrify me?"

"Both." She leaned over him, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"You’ve lost a lot of blood. I need to give you something before you pass out."

He blinked lazily. "You have medical training?"

"Close enough," she said. "I watched a lot of apocalypse movies."

"Wonderful," he muttered. "If I die, I’m haunting you."

"Get in line," she said under her breath, already pulling open the first aid compartment behind the seat.

The kit was packed tight—bandages, antiseptics, painkillers, and one syringe filled with clear liquid.

She popped the cap off and flicked it with her finger like she’d done this a thousand times. Her hands were shaking, but her eyes were steady.

Alvaro looked at the syringe like it might bite him. "That’s . . . not exactly comforting."

"Stop whining," she said, rolling up his sleeve. "You’ll thank me later."

"I’d prefer thanking you in less painful ways."

"Too bad."

She jabbed the needle into his arm before he could protest further. He let out a hiss of pain that turned into a growl. "You’re evil."

"I’m affectionate, actually," she replied.

The medicine worked fast. His breathing slowed, the tension easing from his face.

Sasha wrapped the rest of his wounds with quick, firm hands, every movement efficient. He tried to joke through it, muttering something about her bedside manner again, but his voice slurred as the painkillers kicked in. She transfused some blood into him to replenish what he lost.

When she finally leaned back, sweat was running down her temple. She looked at him—really looked—and something twisted in her chest.

He opened one eye and caught her staring. "What?" he said softly. "You look like you’re planning my funeral."

She snorted. "Don’t flatter yourself. I was just wondering if I could sell your organs for gas money."

"Romantic," he murmured. "That’s what I like about you. Always thinking ahead."

Sasha turned away before he could see the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. She grabbed a flashlight and stepped outside for a moment.

The night air was cool, sharp. Firelight flickered in the far distance—distant cities still burning—but out here, there was a strange kind of peace.

Crickets sang somewhere in the dark. The stars were faint but visible, blinking through the haze.

She leaned against the hood, taking a shaky breath. For the first time, the silence wasn’t terrifying—it was beautiful. Fragile, but beautiful.

Then something rustled behind her.

Sasha froze, hand automatically going to her gun. "If that’s another mutant mosquito," she hissed, "I swear I’m inventing a new form of pest control—"

"Relax," Alvaro’s voice came from the car, groggy but alive. "It’s just me trying not to bleed all over your fancy seats."

She exhaled and walked back to him. "You scared me."

"Good," he said, leaning his head back against the seat. "Keeps you alert."

She slid into the driver’s seat again and reached for a canteen. "Drink."

He gave her a lazy smirk. "You’re very demanding."

"Drink, or I pour it on your head."

That got him moving. He took the canteen and sipped, grimacing. "Tastes like metal."

"Everything does now," she said. "Get used to it."

They sat in silence for a moment. Outside, the night hummed quietly. Inside the car, the air was warm and close.

Sasha caught herself staring at the way the moonlight brushed over Alvaro’s face—sharp lines softened by exhaustion, his expression halfway between pain and peace.

He noticed her gaze. "If you’re planning to kiss me," he said weakly, "you should probably wait until I’m less drugged."

She blinked, caught off guard. "You wish."

"Can’t blame me for hoping."

She shook her head, biting back a laugh. "You’re unbelievable."

"Yet here I am," he said with a smirk. "Still alive. Thanks to you."

The words hit harder than she expected. She looked away, pretending to check the fuel gauge. "Don’t thank me yet. We still have to make it through tomorrow."

He studied her for a moment. "You know, you pretend you’re made of iron," he said softly. "But you care. More than you want to admit."

Her hands froze on the steering wheel. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then she sighed. "Caring gets people killed," she said. "I’ve seen it."

She gets people killed.

If Alvaro wasn’t the villain, and she still had to kill him just to ensure the villain’s victory, then it was better to build a wall between them now.

No wonder so many hosts lost their minds. How could anyone control their emotions when the one person they weren’t supposed to love was the one they had to destroy in the end?