Into the Apocalypse: Saving My Favorite Villain-Chapter 119: Fighting

Rosalia — POV

The air inside the car was suffocating—thick with an eerie, unnatural silence that pressed down on my chest like a physical weight.

It wasn’t the comfortable quiet that came from exhaustion or mutual understanding. No, this silence was sharp, brittle, as though a single wrong word would shatter it completely.

Up front, Matthew gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His posture was rigid, back straight, shoulders tense, as if he were bracing himself against an invisible impact.

His eyes were sharp and unwavering, scanning the ruined road ahead with ruthless focus. They reflected fragments of the world outside—collapsed buildings, overturned vehicles, drifting ash—each flicker revealing a storm of thoughts he refused to voice.

Matthew had always been like this in moments of danger. Silent. Controlled. Terrifyingly efficient.

Beside me, Cassel was holding my hand.

His grip was firm—almost too firm—but strangely grounding. It was the kind of hold that said I’m here, even when everything else threatened to fall apart. His thumb rested against my knuckles, unmoving, as though he was afraid that if he loosened his grip even slightly, something irreversible would happen.

Cassel’s gaze was locked on the front passenger seat, unfocused yet intensely sharp at the same time. His face was carved from stone, jaw clenched, lips pressed into a thin line. There was something violent simmering beneath the surface—a barely restrained fury that had nothing to do with fear. This was the look of a man who had already calculated how many ways things could go wrong... and how many people he would have to kill if they did.

The silence between him and Matthew was heavy, charged with unspoken tension. It felt like a drawn blade suspended in the air, waiting for the slightest movement to fall.

Neither of them spoke.

The road itself seemed to mirror the unease inside the vehicle—twisted, uneven, and scarred beyond recognition. Abandoned cars were piled haphazardly against one another, metal frames rusted and crushed like discarded toys. Shattered concrete slabs jutted out of the asphalt at dangerous angles, forcing Matthew to slow down again and again. Every few meters, something blocked our path—burned-out buses, collapsed streetlights, half-buried corpses.

Figures wandered between the wreckage.

Some limped with unnatural stiffness, their movements jerky and broken. Others moved too smoothly, too deliberately. From a distance, zombies and humans blended together into one indistinguishable mass of ruin. You couldn’t tell which would scream, and which would shoot you.

Despite how long we’d been driving, it felt like we’d barely gone anywhere at all.

Time stretched unnaturally, each second dragging on as my nerves frayed. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, my heartbeat loud in my ears. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a terrible certainty began to form—a feeling that this silence wasn’t accidental.

It was waiting.

Suddenly—

Matthew wrenched the steering wheel hard.

The car swerved violently to the right.

I cried out as my body was thrown sideways, the seatbelt digging painfully into my shoulder. I nearly slammed into the window, but Cassel’s arm shot out instantly, wrapping around me and pulling me against him. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs as my forehead collided with his chest.

For a moment, everything blurred.

My ears rang. My vision swam. I gasped, struggling to draw air back into my lungs as panic surged up my throat.

"What’s happening?" I asked shakily, my voice barely more than a breath.

Matthew didn’t look back. His eyes were locked forward, pupils narrowed, jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack.

"Someone’s blocking the road," he said.

His voice was hoarse—low and edged with danger.

Honestly, I couldn’t blame myself for not noticing sooner.

The streets had been a disaster long before this. Wreckage was everywhere. Cars were stacked on top of each other, twisted metal forming chaotic walls. Debris littered the ground—broken glass, splintered wood, torn fabric. Bodies lay scattered in unnatural positions, some too still, others moving just enough to make my stomach churn.

This city had long since become a graveyard.

But this—

This wasn’t random destruction.

As Matthew slowed the car, I finally caught sight of it.

A barricade.

Several vehicles had been deliberately pushed together, forming a solid wall across the intersection. Large trucks sat at the center, reinforced by smaller cars wedged tightly between them. Debris had been piled on top, carefully arranged to obscure visibility from a distance.

Someone had taken their time building this.

Someone had planned it.

Before I could even process the realization, figures began to move.

They emerged from behind the barricade—armed silhouettes stepping into view with terrifying confidence. Guns were raised, barrels glinting faintly in the gray light. Their faces were obscured by masks and scarves, but I could feel their eyes on us.

Cold. Hungry. Calculating.

And then—

Matthew slammed the accelerator.

The engine roared just as a flash of light burst from behind the barricade.

"Missile!" Cassel shouted.

The world exploded.

The missile struck the ground beside us, detonating in a violent blast that shook the air itself. The explosion was deafening, a thunderous roar that swallowed my scream whole. The shockwave slammed into the car, lifting it partially off the ground before hurling it sideways.

Metal screamed.

Glass shattered.

The vehicle skidded uncontrollably, tires screeching as Matthew fought desperately to keep it upright. I clung to Cassel, my fingers digging into his jacket as fear ripped through me like wildfire.

For a horrifying second, I was certain we were going to flip.

But Matthew forced the wheel hard to the left, muscles straining, veins standing out on his arms. The car slammed back onto the road with a bone-rattling jolt, spinning once before finally coming to a shaky stop behind the remains of a collapsed building.

Silence followed.

Not peace—never peace—but a ringing void that left my ears buzzing and my heart hammering painfully in my chest.

"Are you kidding me?!" I shouted, panic spilling over as reality crashed down on me. "A missile?! Where would they even get something like that?!"

Cassel exhaled slowly, his arm still wrapped around me, his body shielding mine instinctively.

"It’s not impossible," he said calmly.

Too calmly.

"There’s a military supply depot not far from here."

I turned to look at him.

His face was eerily composed, but his eyes were dark, cold, and calculating. This wasn’t a surprise. This was confirmation of something he had already suspected.

A chill crept down my spine.

"Then what are we supposed to do?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay steady.

A new fear struck me suddenly, sharper than the explosion itself.

"And where are Henry and the others?" I continued urgently. "Their cars were right in front of us. I saw them the whole time. How can there be no sign of them now?"

The road ahead was empty.

No tire tracks. No wreckage. No familiar vehicles.

Just silence... and smoke drifting lazily through the air.

Matthew finally spoke, his voice low and grim. "They’re gone."

My chest tightened painfully.

"They didn’t just disappear," I whispered. "They were right there."

Cassel squeezed my hand slightly before answering. "It’s fine," he said quietly. "They’re experienced. If this was an ambush—and it was—they probably hit the gas and escaped through another intersection."

He paused, then added, "Or they were forced to split up."

That didn’t make me feel better.

Even as he spoke, Cassel was already moving.

He released my hand and unfastened his seatbelt, the click sounding unnaturally loud in the tense silence. His movements were swift, deliberate, and practiced. He reached behind his seat, pulling out his weapon with ease.

"Cassel," I said, panic flaring as I grabbed his sleeve. "What are you doing?"

"I’m going to talk to them."

"You’re lying," I said immediately.

He finally looked at me.

His eyes were sharp, deep, and utterly unyielding. There was no hesitation in them. No doubt.

"I’ll see what they want first," he said. "Then we’ll decide how to deal with them based on what they say."

Based on what they say.

Not if we fight.

How.

My fingers tightened around his sleeve. "You can’t just walk out there. They fired a missile at us!"

A faint, dangerous smile touched his lips. "Exactly."

Before I could say anything else, he gently pried my fingers away.

"Stay here," he said softly. "No matter what happens."

The door creaked open. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

The moment Cassel stepped outside, the air seemed to change.

Weapons were immediately trained on him. I could see them now—five... no, six people, spread out behind cover. Their stances were confident and professional. These weren’t desperate scavengers.

They were predators.

Cassel stood tall, hands visible, posture relaxed—but I knew better. Every muscle in his body was coiled, ready to strike.

"Well," one of them called out, voice distorted by a mask. "You’re brave. Or stupid."

Cassel tilted his head slightly.