Chapter 68: The future is bright

The air smelled like metal.

Not the clean kind—old iron, rusted edges—layered with a faint undertone of blood that clung to the back of Samuel’s throat. The kind of smell that told you someone had suffered here. Recently.

He moved carefully through the shadows, every step measured, every breath shallow. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He knew that. The quiet corridors, the locked doors left ajar, the absence of guards where there should have been some— it all screamed wrong.

Samuel had been creeping.

Listening.

Waiting.

And then he saw her.

Naomi was slumped against the wall, wrists chained high above her head, metal biting into skin already raw. Bruises bloomed dark across her cheekbone and jaw, ugly and swollen. Her lips were cracked. Dry. When she lifted her head, it was slow—like the weight of it alone hurt.

She hadn’t had water in a long time.

Something inside Samuel fractured.

He crossed the room in three steps and wrapped his arms around her, careful but desperate, pressing his forehead against hers like it might anchor them both. For a heartbeat, she didn’t respond—then her arms trembled as much as they could and she hugged him back, weak but real.

They stayed like that longer than they should have.

Eventually, she pulled back, breath uneven.

“W–what are you doing here…?” Her voice was hoarse, scraped raw. Panic flickered in her eyes. “If any of Vivian’s people catches you, she’ll—”

“I don’t care,” Samuel cut in.

He was already fumbling through his pouch, fingers shaking as he found the bottle. He brought it to her lips without hesitation. “Drink.”

Naomi hesitated only a second before obeying. She drank greedily, throat working, water spilling down her chin and soaking into her collar. Samuel didn’t stop her. He just held the bottle steady until it was empty.

When she finally leaned back, breathing harder, he smiled at her.

Soft. Broken. Too bright for a place like this.

“Samuel…” Her voice dropped, urgency threading through it. “I’m serious. You need to leave now or she won’t just kill—”

“Naomi, listen to me.”

That made her pause.

She tilted her head slightly, confused. Listening.

“They’re planning to go to Texas,” he said quietly. “Vivian and the others. They want to find that kid. Adrian.”

Naomi’s eyes sharpened despite the exhaustion.

“As soon as there’s an opening,” he continued, lowering his voice further, “we run. The moment we can break away from the group—we take it.”

“No.” She cut in immediately.

The word was firm, even now.

She noticed the healing scar on his chest even underneath his shirt, only a glance. It was tacky with dried blood.

“No,” she repeated, shaking her head as much as the chains allowed. “We can’t. We can’t just abandon them, Samuel. These people—” Her voice wavered. “They’re our family.”

Silence settled between them.

Samuel stared at her, really stared—at the bruises, the chains, the hollowed eyes that still burned with loyalty. Something painful twisted in his chest.

“You’re my only family, Naomi,” he said quietly.

The words weren’t dramatic. They were flat. Honest.

Her breath hitched.

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them. She swallowed hard, forcing the words out anyway.

“Promise me,” she whispered. “Promise you won’t abandon these people. Please.”

Samuel didn’t answer right away.

He looked at her for a long moment—long enough for hope to flicker, fragile and terrified.

Then he stepped back.

Without a word.

He turned and walked away, boots soft against the floor, the metallic smell swallowing him again as he disappeared into the dark.

Naomi watched him go, tears sliding silently down her face, chains rattling faintly as the room returned to stillness.

Samuel slipped out of the danger zone one careful step at a time.

He kept to the edges—shadows, stacked crates, the blind spots between floodlights—moving like someone who knew exactly how visible fear could make you. His heart hadn’t slowed since leaving Naomi, but he forced his breathing into something steadier.

That was when he saw them.

A crowd had formed in the open yard—dozens of bodies packed tight, some familiar, some he didn’t recognize at all. Armed. Alert. Uneasy. At the front of it all stood Vivian.

Samuel’s pulse spiked.

So that’s where she was.

She had her back half-turned to him, one boot propped casually on a crate, posture loose like she wasn’t standing in front of an armed camp but a bored audience. One of her lackeys stepped forward and offered a cigarette. She took it without looking.

The lighter clicked.

Flame bloomed.

She lit the cigarette slowly, deliberately, like she enjoyed making people wait. A moment passed. Then another. She exhaled, smoke spilling from her mouth in a lazy, unhurried plume that curled into the night air.

“…That’s the good stuff,” she murmured to herself.

She handed the cigarette back like it was nothing—like the act alone had already done what it needed to do.

Samuel didn’t miss how people shifted. Straightened. Held still.

Vivian cleared her throat once.

The crowd snapped to attention.

“Now, um…” She scratched the back of her head, eyes unfocused, like she was genuinely trying to remember something. “Shit. What was I gonna say again?”

A ripple of nervous chuckles died before they could fully form.

Someone at her side leaned in and whispered.

Vivian’s eyes lit up.

“Oh. Right.”

Her gaze swept the crowd, slow and assessing.

“First off,” she said, “I’m not sure what some of you are used to— not that I care…but don’t do big speeches. They’re corny as hell.” A few people nodded instinctively. “So I’m just gonna get straight to the point.”

Samuel felt his spine stiffen.

“Our target?” she continued. “He’s probably in Texas by now.”

A murmur rippled through the group.

“I don’t know why he’s there,” Vivian said lightly. “I don’t care why he’s there.”

Her tone shifted—barely—but it was enough.

“But if there’s anything shielding him,” she went on, eyes sharpening, “anyone shielding him—doesn’t matter who they are or what they think they are—”

Her gaze flicked sideways.

Brief.

Intentional.

To the tank parked just beyond the crowd.

Samuel’s eyes widened.

“They’ll be brought down,” Vivian finished. “Hard.”

Silence followed.

Heavy. Expectant.

She paced a step forward, hands clasped behind her back. “Now. Most of you already know how this works. But for the ones who are new—or forgetful—let me make something real clear.”

Her eyes swept across the crowd again, colder now.

“If I see incompetence,” she said calmly, “I kill it.”

A swallow rippled through the front row.

“If I see weakness,” she continued, “I kill it.”

No one moved.

“And if I see hesitation,” she added, voice flat, final, “when I give an order?”

She smiled.

“I kill it.”

A beat.

“No exceptions.”

Samuel stayed frozen in the shadows, the weight of her words pressing down on his chest.

Texas.

The kid.

The tank.

Naomi.

For the first time since he’d walked away from her chains, Samuel understood something with terrifying clarity—

Running wouldn’t be simple. Hesitation was already a death sentence.

Lila’s hand tightened around mine as we walked.

Not a squeeze. Not reassurance.

A clamp.

Her fingers dug into my skin hard enough that it hurt, nails biting through fabric and flesh like she was anchoring herself to something solid. I slowed instinctively, then stopped when I felt it—her breathing.

Short.

Sharp.

Wrong.

I turned toward her and my stomach dropped.

Her eyes were bloodshot, red veins spiderwebbing through the whites. They trembled slightly in their sockets, unfocused but burning, like she was staring at something that wasn’t there. Her chest hitched with every breath, each inhale shallow and frantic, each exhale uneven.

Oh, shit.

“Lobotomy…?” she whispered.

It wasn’t directed at me. It wasn’t even spoken into the air.

It was spoken inward.

“I’ll show him lobotomy…”

The words crawled up my spine.

“Who the hell does that guy think he is…?” she muttered, jaw tightening, voice fraying at the edges. There was heat in it. Not loud. Not explosive.

Contained.

That was worse.

A pair of soldiers passed nearby, boots heavy against tile, voices low and distracted. I didn’t think—I reacted. I turned sharply and pulled Lila with me, dragging her down a side corridor, away from eyes, away from ears, away from anything she could fixate on.

Her whispering didn’t stop.

Fragments spilled out of her mouth under her breath. Disjointed. Violent. Promises that weren’t meant to be heard by anyone but herself.

I stopped and turned to face her fully.

“Lila.”

Nothing.

Her gaze slid past me like I wasn’t there.

“Lila.”

Still nothing.

Her lips kept moving.

I felt something cold settle in my chest.

“Lila.”

That did it.

Her head snapped up. Focus returned all at once, like a switch being flipped. Her breathing steadied instantly, too instantly, like she’d rehearsed it. The bloodshot rage drained from her expression and was replaced by something softer.

Too soft.

“Yes, my love?” she said.

The tone was wrong. Forced. Careful. Like she was choosing it instead of feeling it.

I swallowed.

“I wouldn’t ever let that happen to you,” I said quietly. “Okay? Never. But you need to calm down now. Please.”

For a moment, she just stared at me.

Then she tilted her head slightly, hair slipping over one eye.

“Okay,” she said, smiling.

Relief washed through me before I could stop it. I let myself smile back, just a little. Just enough.

She was under control.

Then she spoke again.

“But if he ever makes a joke like that again, if he ever threatens what we have together,” she said lightly, still smiling, “I’ll kill him.”

The words landed clean. Casual. Certain.

My smile died where it stood.

I felt sick.

Not because she’d said it.

But because I believed her.

And worse—

Because part of me was already calculating how long it would take her to do it.

I allowed myself a moment of silence.

Before things could calm down in my mind,

A faint click echoed behind us, almost drowned out by the hum of the ventilation—but I heard it.

Was…someone watching us?

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