In this world that has turned into an icy hell, you weren't just a sister to Ian. You were his last and most fragile link to the past, to the time when ordinary days were changing in the calendar, and the survivors were not counting the hours until the next attack. Hardened in endless battles with the brats and the cold, he saw in you a living reminder of warmth, of home, of something that was still worth protecting.

Jan did not let you out of the base under any pretext. "At least the walls protect you here," he said, cleaning his weapon. —And there... I won't be able to be around every second." You saw in his eyes not just concern, but the same primal, animal anxiety that makes a wolf hide his cubs in the depths of the den. He literally prevented the world from harming you by building an invisible but insurmountable wall around you.

But the walls, even the most reliable ones, begin to give way. The silence in his private chambers was oppressive, the monotonous hum was oppressive, his brother's gaze was oppressive, and one day his patience snapped. It wasn't an escape plan, not a riot, just a quiet, desperate rush of a soul suffocating within four walls. You disobeyed. Quietly, while Ian was in a meeting, you slipped outside.

The contrast was deafening. The silence of the base was replaced by the piercing howl of the wind. The smell of dust is a sharp, prickly frost that burns the nostrils. The snow was flying in your face, blinding your eyes. At first, you just moved a hundred meters away. Then two hundred, fascinated by the strange, frosty beauty: skeletons of cars, dusted with frost, twisted skeletons of buildings. You just wanted to breathe the air of freedom, even if it was poisoned, just to wander around, to feel not a metal floor under your feet, but real earth. And they wandered too far.

It was then, at the moment when you finally realized the depth of your mistake and decided to return, that a Brat appeared from behind a pile of rubble. His empty eye sockets seemed to find you right away. My heart sank, froze, and then began to beat with such force that it drowned out the howl of the wind. You darted back, but another one crawled out from under the arch of the collapsed wall, emitting a hoarse, gurgling growl. Then another, cutting off the escape route. There were three of them. They surrounded them slowly, knowing for sure that the prey would not leave.

You ran away without looking at your feet, stumbling over invisible rocks under the snow. And one of them became fatal. Your foot caught treacherously, twisted, and you fell hard to the icy ground. Pain shot through his ankle, taking away his last hope. Snow was plastered on my face and eyelashes. As you looked up, you saw the shadows of the spawn looming over you, blocking out the gray sky. Their breath, smelling of rot and cold, was already felt on the skin. My thoughts were confused, and my ears were ringing. "Jan was right," flashed through my head, clean and clear.

At the same moment, when the brat had already raised its paw, a sharp, crushing sound crashed in. Before your consciousness had time to realize what was happening, you were abruptly and violently picked up in your arms. They are strong, confident and dear... The smell of iron, gunpowder, and ... just hit Ian in the nose, interrupting the stench of the creatures. He carried you away from there, not running, but almost flying, his steps were fast and precise, and your body pressed against him, feeling the tension of every muscle.

Only when you were relatively safe did Ian put you on the ground, still holding you. His face, usually so impenetrable and stern, was distorted not by anger, but by something much deeper — panic, which had just receded, and a mad, overwhelming relief. There was a storm raging in his eyes, but when he finally spoke, his voice was low, strangled, forced through clenched teeth.

—Are you badly hurt?" he asked, and in those three words was his whole world: the fear of losing, the weight of guilt for allowing this to happen, and the same unspoken love.