CHAPTER 310: APOCALYPTIC ROMANCE 20

The blue-haired commander tilted his head slightly, noticing the way she looked at him. "You have something to say, miss?"

Sasha straightened her back, meeting his gaze. "No. Just wondering if your rules come with protection and receipt. As you know my van here is valuable and everything inside is too."

A slow smile tugged at his lips — sharp, knowing, and far too amused. "You’ve got a mouth on you. That’s rare these days."

"Yeah, well," she said evenly, "talking back is kind of my brand."

The commander’s voice was calm — too calm for someone surrounded by chaos.

"Do you want entry or not?" he asked, his tone smooth as glass. "The undead are fast approaching."

Almost on cue, gunfire cracked through the air from the watchtowers above. Rifles barked, the echo bouncing off the steel walls. A moment later came the growls — wet, animalistic, and far too close.

Sasha’s heart jumped. Perfect timing, she thought grimly.

The floodlights shifted, illuminating the road behind them — and there they were: a wave of undead spilling over the ridge, running on all fours like beasts, their eyes glinting white in the dark.

"Well," Alvaro muttered, keeping his hands up. "That answers my next question."

"What question?" Sasha said, eyes still on the approaching horde.

"If we had time to think this through."

"Definitely not," she said, already calculating their odds.

The commander’s expression didn’t change as he gave a sharp whistle. "Hold the line!" he barked to his men. "No one gets through without clearance!"

The soldiers formed ranks in seconds, unloading bullets into the night. Sparks flew. Muzzle flashes lit up the chaos like a strobe show from hell.

Sasha bit her lip. They’re good, she thought. Disciplined, fast, and well-equipped.

But she also noticed something else — the way the commander didn’t even flinch when a stray bullet pinged the gate beside him. He was too composed. Too dangerous. Just like Lucian.

"Why do I have the feeling," Alvaro whispered close to her ear, "that they’ll take our supplies whether we enter or not?"

Sasha didn’t answer right away. His voice was warm against her skin, too calm for the situation. Typical Alvaro — flirt while surrounded by death.

She sighed, shoulders tensing. "Because they absolutely will."

"So we’re agreeing they’re thieves with uniforms?"

"Basically," she said, glancing at him. "But right now, they’re well-armed thieves, and we’re running out of options."

He smirked. "You just love those odds."

"Shut up and stay behind me."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," he said, flashing that half-smile that made her both want to slap and kiss him at the same time.

The undead were closing in fast now — dozens of them, howling, limbs thrashing as they charged toward the gates. The soldiers fired nonstop, but there were too many. The smell of rot and gunpowder filled the air, thick and nauseating.

The commander turned back to Sasha, his amber eyes meeting hers through the flickering light. "Last chance," he said simply. "Come in now or die out there."

Her gaze flicked from him to the swarm and back again.

She could feel Alvaro’s hand brushing near hers — not touching, but close enough that she felt the heat of it.

It grounded her in a strange way.

"Do we have much of a choice?" she said finally, exhaling hard.

He gave her that look — the one that said you already made up your mind before you asked.

Sasha’s jaw tightened. "The person I’m looking for is probably here," she muttered, eyes never leaving the blue-haired man. His stare was cold, assessing, like he already knew who she was... and why she’d come.

"Then I guess we’re in," Alvaro said.

She nodded, then turned toward the commander and raised her voice over the gunfire. "We’ll take your deal!"

The man’s lips curved slightly — not a smile, more like the shadow of one. "Wise choice," he said. "Open the inner gate!"

The soldiers shifted, clearing the way as the massive steel doors behind them began to grind open. The sound was deafening — metal on metal, echoing through the night like the jaws of some mechanical beast.

Alvaro leaned closer, whispering, "I feel like we just walked into a trap."

Sasha’s mouth curved in a thin smirk. "We did. I’m just pretending it’s fine."

"Ah," he said, nodding. "The denial phase. My favorite."

Before she could reply, one of the undead slammed into the outer fence, shrieking. Sparks flew as it was electrocuted, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

The soldiers shouted, firing again, covering Sasha and Alvaro as they ran through the opening gate.

The commander watched them the entire time — calm, unreadable — as if he were studying them like new pieces on a board.

Once they were inside, the heavy gates sealed shut behind them with a thunderous clang. The sound made Sasha’s stomach twist.

No way out now.

Inside the Bastion, floodlights flickered across rows of tents, concrete bunkers, and barbed wire fences. Soldiers moved like clockwork, patrolling every inch. The whole place felt too clean, too controlled.

Alvaro let out a low whistle. "Well, this looks cozy. Nothing says ’welcome home’ like armed men and zero privacy."

Sasha glanced sideways. "Behave."

"Define ’behave,’" he said, grinning from ear to ear.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the commander, who was already waiting for them near the checkpoint.

Even surrounded by soldiers, he stood out — tall, sharp, his blue hair catching the floodlight. There was something magnetic about him, and dangerous.

"Come here to be inspected! All your weapons will be confiscated!" a man barked near a sagging plastic tent that fluttered under the wind.

The place was chaos disguised as order. People bustled everywhere — some in mismatched uniforms, others in rags or scavenged jackets — each pretending to have a purpose.

Smoke from makeshift stoves clung to the humid air. Somewhere in the distance, someone was shouting about rations, and another was crying over a broken pot.

"Looks like we’ll be the new servants," Alvaro whispered beside Sasha, his grin crooked and voice low enough to tickle her ear.

Sasha ignored him, eyes fixed on the men by the gate. "What about our van and the supplies outside?" she asked, stepping forward.

"Our men will confiscate them too," the guard said flatly. "Payment for shelter, protection, and food."

"Really?" Alvaro let out a small laugh that sounded more like a growl. "And here I thought we’d pay by becoming your unpaid labor force."