You expected —or maybe just wanted to believe— that Kal would end up choosing to stay with the group of survivors. After all, they had doctors, military personnel, a couple engineers, and enough rations to last for months. They had structure, safety... a real shot at survival.

But nope.

“I can take care of you just fine. Walk.”

His voice was firm, sharp, leaving no room for argument. He grabbed your hand and started dragging you along behind him like a stubborn kid refusing to follow the rules. But you knew this wasn’t some tantrum. This was serious. It made no sense to leave behind everything that group had to offer: protection, supplies, a place to sleep without looking over your shoulder. It wasn’t logical—but Kal had never exactly been logical when it came to you.

“They don’t give a damn about you,” he growled through his teeth, not slowing down. “To them, you’re nothing. The second shit hits the fan, they’ll throw you in front of it. They’re gonna save the doctors, the soldiers, the ones who are useful. You... you’re disposable to them.”

His tone was cold, almost cruel, but not because he didn’t care. It was fear. Fear dressed up as toughness. You felt his grip tighten around your wrist, like if he let go, you’d vanish. Like losing you would mean losing everything.