Chapter 52: Control freak

Things seemed to have calmed down.

I wasn’t sure how that was even possible after everything that had just happened—but the camp had settled into a low, uneasy hum. Not quiet. Just… restrained. Like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next wrong move.

I sat outside Hailey’s tent, my back stiff, elbows resting on my knees. The dirt beneath me was packed hard and cold. Hailey sat directly across from me on a crate, her injured hand wrapped thick in fresh bandages. She watched me with an expression I couldn’t quite place.

Not hostile.

Not friendly either.

Calculating.

A few meters away, Lila lingered near the edge of the firelight.

I glanced at her before I could stop myself.

She stood with both hands cupping her own face, fingers pressed into her cheeks like she was trying to hold herself together. A faint blush had spread across her skin. Her lips moved silently, whispering something only she could hear.

Incoherent. Rapid.

Almost… giddy.

She looked happy.

I swallowed, a knot tightening in my stomach.

I cleared my throat.

“Your hand,” I said, nodding toward Hailey’s bandages. “It—”

She lifted her chin slightly.

“I’m sorry about—”

“Don’t.”

The word cut sharp.

I stopped talking.

Hailey exhaled through her nose and leaned back.

“Don’t even,” she said. “It’s my fault for underestimating how crazy that bitch was.” Her mouth twisted into something close to a grin.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t get crazier.”

She said it like a challenge.

Like she was daring me to react.

I dragged in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. About all of this. I never meant for—”

She waved me off, already bored.

“Though, I have to admit,” she continued, tilting her head, “I never thought you’d be smart enough to make me look that bad in front of my own people.”

I blinked. “What?”

She smiled— wide, sharp.

“You were always so stupid when I dated you,” she said casually.

“Guess the world ending suddenly made you smarter.”

My fists clenched before I realized I was doing it.

…This bitch.

“I’m digging the new you, though,” she added. “It’s sexy.”

I barely reacted.

“Thanks,” I muttered. “I guess.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable.

Then her eyes sharpened.

“You said you wanted to talk about something,” she said. “Well?”

My focus snapped back.

“Yeah. Uh… I do.” I hesitated, then pushed forward. “For one— have you heard anything about Texas?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she studied me. Really studied me. Like she was peeling something apart behind my eyes.

“So it’s not about the guns,” she said slowly.

“Well… it kind of is,” I admitted. “Just not in the way you think.”

A beat passed.

“For starters,” I continued, voice lowering, “the person who bit you earlier— she was infected.”

The words landed heavy.

I heard sharp intakes of breath around us as a few nearby people froze mid-conversation. Every head turned.

For the first time, I’d said it out loud.

Hailey didn’t flinch.

“Figured as much,” she said simply.

My heart started racing.

“So what?” she went on. “That mean I’m gonna turn into some crazy maniac like her?”

My eyes widened just a fraction.

I swallowed hard.

“Thing is… I don’t know.”

Her brow lifted.

“All the answers we need are in Texas,” I said quickly, before doubt could take hold. “They’ve got facilities. Labs. Places that might actually tell us what this thing is— what it does to people.”

She leaned forward slightly.

“So,” she said, “you’re saying you want me and my people to travel west with you.”

Silence.

My chest felt tight.

“Yes,” I said, forcing firmness into my voice. “I think it’ll work out. For both of us.”

Her brows drew together.

“You’ll figure out what the bite is going to do to you” I added. “And I’ll find out about… well—..”

I trailed off, words failing me.

She raised an eyebrow.

I stayed quiet.

“I like you, Adrian,” she said suddenly.

The admission caught me off guard.

“That’s why I set that trap,” she continued calmly. “You wouldn’t have come any other way. That was the only way I could get my hands on you.”

Yeah, I figured.

She leaned back again, considering.

“Truth be told, I don’t care what happens to me. I’d be sticking my neck out just for you.”

Something small and fragile loosened in my chest at her words.

“But that’s a hell of a distance, traveling two states over.”

There was silence soon after.

My pulse stuttered.

Oh my fucking God. Is this going to be Peter all over again?

“Hailey—”

“Give me time,” she cut in. “I’ll think about it.”

She stood, signaling the conversation was over.

I stayed seated, staring at the ground, the weight of everything pressing down on my chest.

Somewhere on the I-95 Highway.

“My poor baby…”

Vivian’s fingers moved through the man’s hair with almost maternal care. Her hand was cold. Unhurried. The man knelt in front of her on the cracked asphalt, blood smeared across his temple, his breathing shallow but steady. His eyes were open—red-veined, glassy—but focused.

Aware.

Crucible gunmen formed a loose perimeter around them, boots planted in drying blood. The highway stretched out on either side, empty and silent, littered with bodies torn apart at unnatural angles. Limbs twisted. Spines crushed.

It looked less like a firefight and more like something had passed through.

Run down. One by one.

Vivian crouched, heels balanced perfectly despite the uneven road.

“What happened here?” she asked.

She wasn’t speaking to the soldiers.

Her gaze shifted to one of the infected still standing nearby— a man with a fractured jaw held in place by dried blood and tension alone. His nose bled freely, the red running in slow lines over his lips. His pupils twitched, something feral simmering beneath the surface, held back by something unwanted rather than reason.

“They didn’t stop,” he said. His voice shook, but not with fear. With restraint. “Red truck. Fast. They went straight through us.”

Vivian rose slowly, turning her attention to the road ahead.

Deep tire tracks cut through the gore, leading south.

Progress.

Her eyes flickered from the mangled bodies to the horizon, calculating distances, timing, routes.

“Looks like our friends are fairly close,” she murmured. “We can likely intercept them before they reach Texas.”

She straightened—

—and the man at her feet lunged.

His body moved faster than his mind could stop it. Hands shot up, fingers clawing, mouth stretched wide in a grin that was all teeth and laughter and no joy.

The sound didn’t even finish forming.

A Crucible gunman stepped forward and fired once.

The infected man collapsed mid-motion, skull snapping back, body hitting the pavement with a dull finality.

Vivian didn’t flinch.

She looked down at the corpse for a brief moment. Not annoyed. Not angry.

Finished.

Then she turned back to the standing infected.

“You’re going to kill yourself,” she said calmly.

The man stiffened.

Blood streamed more freely from his nose now, pooling at his chin.

“And you’re going to tell every one of your friends who survived to do the same,” Vivian continued. “Because Vivian said so. I’m done using you.”

“Yes, Vivian,” he rasped, choking on the words as if they burned their way out.

She nodded once.

Satisfied.

Vivian turned away, heels clicking softly as she walked back to the matte-black vehicles. Doors opened. Engines purred to life. Her men followed without a word.

As the cars pulled away, the infected man dropped to his knees.

Then forward.

His forehead struck the pavement with a wet crack.

Again.

And again.

The highway remained silent, broken only by the rhythmic sound of flesh meeting concrete—until even that stopped.

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