Chapter 72: Throatburn

The nameplate caught the light first.

CALLAHAN.

Polished. Smug. Sitting there like a warning label I’d ignored once already.

I stared at it longer than necessary, letting the glare burn into my eyes. Maybe if I focused hard enough, it would tell me how this ended. Whether I walked out with my people… or walked out alone, escorted, stripped of whatever illusion of safety we’d borrowed by stepping inside these walls.

I blinked slowly, grit still clinging to my eyes, lids heavy like they’d been glued shut and ripped open too soon. Sleep had been a rumor last night— something other people got. Not me. Not after Jane. Not after Peter. Not after realizing what I’d let Lila handle for me.

That thought alone made my jaw tighten.

Using Lila to fix things had felt efficient in the moment.

This morning, it felt like rot.

I leaned back in the chair anyway, arms loose, posture careless. If this was the part where we got escorted out at gunpoint, I wanted to look bored when it happened.

Sixty percent chance, by my estimate.

Good enough odds.

I was tired of this place already.

“Carter.”

The word snapped through the haze.

I looked up too fast, irritation flashing before I could bury it.

“Yes?”

I caught myself just before sir turned into fuck you.

Callahan stood behind his desk, hands planted like he was bracing against weather. His expression was tight—controlled, but strained at the seams. Pride under pressure.

“There was a meeting last night,” he said flatly. “After you left.”

I didn’t respond.

“Command staff. Security. Logistics. Medical.” His jaw tightened. “Everyone who had an opinion.”

“And?” I asked.

He inhaled through his nose.

“You were discussed at length,” he said. “Your behavior. Your… speech. The way you spoke to me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You mean the part where I told you your compound has structural weaknesses?”

His eyes flickered.

“You undermined my authority,” he snapped. “In front of personnel. You implied this camp was unsafe.”

“I didn’t imply,” I said. “I explained.”

His fingers dug into the desk. It was evident on how badly he wanted to shut me up for good.

“Regardless,” he continued stiffly, “there was a vote.”

That caught my attention.

“A vote on what?” I asked.

“On whether you and your group should be removed from the camp,” he said. “Immediately.”

I let out a quiet laugh. “And?”

Callahan’s mouth thinned.

“It was close

,” he admitted. “Closer than I would’ve liked.”

I leaned back. “But?”

“But the final decision was to keep you here,” he said. “For now.”

“For now,” I echoed. “That’s comforting.”

He ignored that.

“You’ll have your firearms returned,” he said.

I blinked once.

“And that’s on our way out, right?” I asked. “Little goodbye gift?”

His eyes hardened. I noticed something flicker underneath.

“That’s what I wanted,” he said. “But I was overruled.”

That made me sit up.

“Overruled by who?” I asked.

“That’s not your concern,” he snapped. Then, after a pause: “You’ll be given your weapons back under supervision. On one condition.”

I tilted my head. “Here it comes.”

“You and your group will assist in an external food acquisition operation,” Callahan said. “Recon. Retrieval. Infected response.”

I smiled.

He noticed.

“We have less than a few weeks of food before rationing becomes unavoidable,” he continued. “Our soldiers are trained, but they lack… exposure. Experience.”

“Exposure,” I repeated. “You mean they’re scared.”

His jaw flexed.

“The last unit we sent out didn’t return,” he said. “Eight men. Armed. Disciplined.”

“And unprepared,” I said.

He slammed his palm on the desk.

“Don’t,” he warned.

I leaned back again, slower this time, crossing one leg over the other.

“So let me get this straight,” I said. “You voted on whether to throw us out. Decided you couldn’t afford to. And now you’re giving us our guns back so we can do the shit your soldiers won’t.”

His knuckles went white.

“You people need our help,” I added, gently twisting the knife.

“Stop playing games with me, boy,” he snapped.

I smiled wider.

Then waited.

Finally—finally—he said it.

“We need your experience,” Callahan said, voice tight. “You’ve survived outside the perimeter longer than any civilian group we’ve encountered. You understand the infected.”

“The infected aren’t animals,” I said. “That’s your mistake. That’s the thing you people don’t get.”

His eyes flickered.

“They learn,” I continued. “They test. They wait. You’re still fighting them like they rush and scream.”

Silence.

Then, quieter: “So what would you do?”

I met his eyes.

“When the time comes,” I said, “you’ll see.”

He folded his arms, frustration etched deep into his face.

“When do you plan to deploy?” I asked.

“As soon as possible,” he replied. “Ideally today. I understand your people may need time to—”

“It’s done,” I said.

That stopped him.

He stared at me. “You didn’t even consult them.”

“I don’t need to,” I said. “They’ll follow.”

Because I hadn’t lied to them.

Because I hadn’t hidden the cost.

Because when this goes wrong—and it will—it won’t be their blood on his hands.

It’ll be his.

I stood, chair scraping softly.

As I walked toward the door, I felt it clearly for the first time.

This wasn’t a negotiation.

It was conscription.

And Callahan hated that he’d just admitted who needed who more.

I had practically skipped my way back to the quarters.

The door creaked as I pushed it open.

I didn’t bother hiding the smile.

“We got our guns back.”

For half a second, no one moved.

Then Aubrey looked up sharply, eyes narrowing like she was waiting for the punchline. Cherie’s lips curved into a quiet, satisfied smile. Hale scratched at his beard and gave a single, approving nod—slow, thoughtful.

“Really, honey?” Lila said brightly.

She was on her feet in an instant, arms sliding around me, pressing herself close. Her kiss landed warm and deliberate against my cheek, just long enough to make a point.

I let my hand settle in her hair, fingers combing through it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aubrey hesitate.

For a moment—just a moment—it looked like she was going to say something. Approval, maybe. Relief. Pride.

Then she saw Lila hugging me.

Her shoulders dipped. Her gaze dropped to the floor.

“But how?” Terri asked instead, voice tight. “Didn’t the commander basically say you insulted him to his face?”

“Oh, I did,” I said lightly. “Turns out he didn’t have the luxury of holding a grudge.”

I felt Lila lean into my side as I spoke, like she was anchoring herself there.

“They need our expertise,” I continued. “On the infected. For outside-the-wall operations.”

That did it.

Someone straightened sharply.

“We’re going out?” Cherie asked, eyes bright.

I nodded once.

“I’m putting together a small team.”

The room felt like it leaned in.

“Cherie. Aubrey. Hale,” I said, counting them off. “Be ready in a few hours. They haven’t given me an exact time yet.”

Hale grunted and immediately started thinking logistics. Cherie cracked her knuckles like she’d already made peace with it.

Aubrey didn’t react right away.

Lila slowly looked up at me.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

There was something quietly expectant in her eyes—something waiting to be chosen.

I took her gently by the wrist and pulled her a few steps aside, out of earshot.

By now, I knew how to handle things like this.

“I need you to stay here,” I said softly. “For our plan. Remember?”

Her expression changed instantly.

Not disappointment.

Relief.

Her face lit up, eyes shining as she nodded eagerly.

“Of course,” she said. “Whatever you need, my love.”

I smiled back, lowering my voice.

“Remember what I said.”

Her fingers tightened around mine for just a second longer than necessary.

“I always do,” she whispered.

When we rejoined the others, Hale was already sitting on a bench, tightening his boots, jacket laid out with methodical precision.

I scanned the room once more.

“Peter,” I said. “I’ll need you on this too.”

The air shifted.

A few heads turned.

Before Peter could even open his mouth—

“Why?”

Jane’s voice cut in smoothly, sharp as glass wrapped in velvet.

I grimaced internally.

She rose from where she’d been sitting, moving to Peter’s side, slipping an arm around his shoulders like a claim.

“You’re a sweetheart, Adrian,” she said, smiling at me. “But Petey would just slow you down.”

She leaned into him, pressing a kiss against his temple.

“He’s not really built for things like that,” she continued sweetly. “Are you, sweetie?”

Peter didn’t look at me.

Didn’t look at anyone.

He just nodded.

Small. Silent.

The room went subtly wrong after that. Eyes drifted away. Shoulders tensed. No one challenged her— not directly.

Was this guy serious…?

I swallowed.

So much for handling this quietly. So much for doing things under her nose.

I forced a nod, keeping my face neutral.

“Alright,” I said. “Then you stay.”

Jane smiled wider.

Peter didn’t.

As I turned away, something heavy settled in my chest.

This was already unraveling.

And we hadn’t even left the walls yet.

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