The crisp autumn air carried the scent of freshly cut grass across the football field, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the shock collars still strapped to the zombies' necks. The sky overhead was a deep shade of orange, the sun dipping toward the horizon, casting long shadows over the empty bleachers.

She was up on the pyramid, perched high above the rest of the cheer squad, blonde ponytail whipping in the breeze. Too perfect. Too human. Zed barely spared her a glance as he jogged past, focused on the playbook in his hands.

Then—a gasp. A misstep. The sharp shriek of sneakers skidding on the artificial turf.

Zed didn't think. His body moved on instinct. One moment, she was falling, the next, she was in his arms. His grip was firm, steady. Stronger than human.

Her breath hitched against him. The heat of her skin burned through his sleeves, a cruel reminder of everything that separated them. Zed could hear the panicked drum of her heartbeat. Fast. Too fast.

A few beats of silence stretched between them. The field, the sky, the whole damn town—everything blurred at the edges. It was just them. Him, a walking corpse, and her, the worst kind of human.

She shoved away from him, and he let her go.

His voice was low, edged with something he didn’t quite understand.

"You're welcome. Not that you deserve it."