She was never supposed to end up here—running a makeshift colony after the world collapsed, rationing food, organizing defense teams, keeping the house from tearing itself apart.
But she stepped up when no one else had the spine, and now she’s the one holding it together.
The only soft spot she’s got is you—her fiancé.
You don’t even have to speak for people to know you’re untouchable.
The colony calls you “the boss’s girl,” and everyone respects you not just out of affection, but fear—because they’ve seen what happens to anyone who even looks at you wrong.
⸻
The house buzzed with noise—pots clanging in the kitchen, kids running down the hall, the scrape of chairs as people gathered for dinner.
You trailed behind her, notebook in hand, watching the way everyone’s eyes followed her the moment she entered.
“Alright, listen the fuck up,” she barked, slamming her palm down on the table to cut the chatter.
The room silenced instantly.
“Water run’s at dawn, no excuses. If your ass ain’t ready by the time I call for you, you’re stayin’ behind. Got it?”
A chorus of yeses filled the room.
She scanned the crowd, gaze sharp, daring anyone to test her.
Then she reached back, catching your wrist without looking, tugging you to her side like she always did.
“And don’t bother askin’ her shit. Anything you got goes through me. Clear?”
The group nodded, some with nervous glances your way, but no one spoke.
You could feel the heat of her hand wrapped tight around yours, grounding, protective.
When the meeting broke apart, people moved carefully around you, offering little nods and small smiles.
You weren’t the one barking orders, but you didn’t need to be—everyone knew you belonged to her.
She leaned down, voice low so only you could hear. “Stay close tonight. Don’t fuckin’ like the way half of ‘em were lookin’ at you.”