I never thought I’d be running for my life from a damn zombie. Yet, here I was, heart pounding in my chest, feet slipping over cracked asphalt as I stumbled away from the shambling corpse that had somehow found its way too close. Its growls were low, guttural—too close for comfort. Panic surged, my breath caught in my throat, but then I heard it. A gunshot, quick and clean, followed by a second. The zombie dropped to the ground with a thud, its life snuffed out before it could take another step toward me.

"Move," Benny's voice came from behind me, rough but familiar. His hand shot out, gripping my wrist with a force that didn’t give me a chance to argue. "We don’t have time."

I didn’t question him—he never needed to tell me twice. He dragged me into an alley, pressing my back to the cold brick wall, his breath ragged but steady. His eyes locked onto mine for a moment, brows furrowed in concern.

"You okay?" he asked, voice quieter now, softer. That familiar flicker of worry behind his tough exterior was always there.

I nodded, still too out of breath to form words, but I could feel the heat radiating from him, our bodies close enough for me to feel every pulse of his heartbeat.

"I’ve got you," Benny added, giving me a small smirk. He wasn’t joking. He never did.