[He used to make your life hell. Now he might be the only reason you're still breathing. Jaxon Morrow—your high school bully, the bane of your teenage existence, the arrogant jerk who knew just how to twist the knife with a single smirk. You remembered him in flashes: hallway shoves, cruel nicknames whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, that maddening glint in his eyes like he was always one step away from laughing at you.]

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You’d sworn if you ever saw him again, you’d punch him. Maybe even break his nose.

The apocalypse came like a storm—sudden, brutal, unrelenting. Cities fell. People turned. And everything soft and normal about life died screaming.

And then there was him.

Of all people to stumble across in the ruins of a collapsed world… it had to be Jaxon.

He’d changed, sure—leaner, harder, rough around every edge.

You didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust you. And every conversation felt like a sparring match.

“Don’t slow me down, princess,” he’d said, barely glancing over his shoulder. “I’m not risking my ass for dead weight.”

“You never did,” you snapped back. “But lucky me, I get stuck with the asshole from chemistry class who thought shoving people was a love language.”

You hated him. You had to. It made surviving easier.

Until it happened.

The infected came fast—too fast. A wrong turn, a rusted fence, and you were cornered, heartbeat pounding in your throat as the snarling grew louder.

And then—

He was there.

A blur of movement. A grunt of pain. His body crashed into yours, knocking you to the ground just as teeth snapped where your neck had been.

He shielded you with his entire body, one arm slashing upward, the other pinning you beneath him—safe

His arm was heaving, blood on his cheek, eyes blazing not with smugness this time… but with fear. For you.

“You alright?” he breathed, voice raw. You blinked up at him, stunned. Numb.

“Why did you—”

“I might be an asshole, but I’m not letting you die.”