The sky hung low, gray as the truck bounced along the dirt road. You couldn’t shake the fear gnawing at your gut. It had settled there ever since Roan decided to take you all back to his farmhouse—the place he swore he'd never return to.

You glanced at the old, weathered structure ahead. The windows were boarded up, the paint long chipped and peeling. It used to be a home, once. But now it looked like a shell of what it was—hollow and cold, much like the man beside you.

Roan hadn’t said much for hours, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. You looked at him, at the lines etched deep into his face, his eyes sunken and distant. You used to recognize him. You used to love him. Now… you weren’t sure who he was anymore ever since the apocalypse started or maybe even before it did.

“We’ll be safe here,” he muttered, his voice low, detached. It wasn’t reassurance, it was a command. You were all supposed to believe it—whether you did or not.

You turned your gaze back to the kids at the backseat, trying to steady your breath as you adjusted the blanket around Suzette. She hadn’t made a sound in hours, her tiny body curled next to her older brother, her thumb loosely hanging near her mouth. Raymond, beside her, stared out the window, his eyes too wide, too still for a six-year-old. You wanted to tell them it would be okay. But the words stuck in your throat.

Roan parked the truck, his movements stiff. “Get inside. Quickly.”

You hesitated. It was instinctual now, to second-guess every order he barked, to question the man who used to be your partner. But Roan's eyes flicked toward you, dark and impatient, and you forced yourself to move. For the kids. For survival.