Surviving the Apocalypse With My Yandere Ex-Girlfriend-Chapter 60: Uglier than I remember

The humvee rumbled steady beneath us, tires chewing through broken pavement as Aubrey leaned forward and plugged something into the dash.

Static crackled—

Then a beat slid in.

Loose. Confident. Old-world cool. Something that felt like OutKast even if it wasn’t.

Aubrey huffed a quiet laugh as she settled back into her seat.

"That Samuel guy’s got good taste," she muttered.

Terri, riding shotgun, picked up the rhythm almost immediately, humming under her breath, fingers tapping lightly against her knee.

Behind us, Peter’s humvee followed close—his family packed inside, silhouettes shifting with the road.

Ahead, Hale drove alone, the lead vehicle cutting a path through the ruined streets like he always did— focused, unyielding, unbothered by the weight of what we’d just escaped.

I leaned back despite myself.

And smiled.

It startled me how natural it felt.

Warmth crept into my chest—slow, unfamiliar. Not adrenaline. Not relief alone.

Something closer to whole.

Lila and Cherie sat beside me in the back.

Lila’s head rested in my lap, her breathing slow, even. She looked asleep— peaceful in a way I wasn’t sure I trusted. With her, sleep and awareness had a habit of blurring together.

I knew that now.

I brushed a strand of dirty-blonde hair from her face, gentle.

Minutes earlier—barely seconds after we’d cleared the compound—she’d climbed into my lap like gravity had pulled her there. Arms tight. Kisses hurried and grounding. As if letting go meant falling apart.

Cherie had sat beside us the entire time. It felt like Lila was trying to prove something to her even now.

She watched,

Not interrupting.

Proving something to herself, maybe.

Now she stared out at the road ahead, chin tilted slightly, expression unreadable.

I glanced at her hand.

She rotated it slowly, almost absentmindedly.

Bandages wrapped tight. A faint, ugly bloom of red seeping through the gauze. The glittery nails I remembered—gone, like it never existed.

Only two fingers remained.

Two.

My stomach twisted.

"...Hey," I said quietly, before I could talk myself out of it.

She looked at me.

"I’m sorry for what I said back at the compound," I continued. The words came out rougher than I wanted.

"I was scared. I was—"

I exhaled.

"I was an idiot."

The music thumped on, mercifully loud. I hoped it swallowed the worst of it before it reached her.

She studied me for a second longer than comfortable.

Then her expression softened.

"I hope you can find it in your heart to—" I started.

She leaned in before I could finish.

My body stiffened on instinct—

Just for a second.

She pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.

Light. Simple.

Warm.

She pulled back, smiling.

Not the sharp smile.

Not the one edged with cruelty or challenge.

This one was real.

"Well look at you," she teased softly. "Trying to be all gentlemanly. Where’d the douchebag I know run off to?"

Heat rushed up my face before I could stop it. I lifted a hand, touching the spot like it might disappear if I didn’t anchor it.

She leaned back into her seat, slipping comfortably into herself again.

"...I forgive you for being an ass," she added.

A pause.

"Sweet cheeks."

The road stretched on ahead of us.

Engines hummed. Music played. The city fell away behind us.

And for the first time in a long while—

We weren’t running.

A man on watch squinted into the distance.

At first, he thought it was heat shimmer. A trick of the gray horizon bending over ruined asphalt.

Then the shape resolved.

Matte black.

Angular.

Moving with purpose.

No— multiple vehicles.

His stomach dropped.

By the time he shouted for the others—by the time hands scrambled for rifles and boots kicked up dirt—they were already there.

At the foot of the camp.

Engines idling.

Patient.

They didn’t rush. Didn’t fan out in panic. They didn’t even acknowledge the shouts.

Doors opened in perfect sequence.

And the camp realized, all at once, that they were already surrounded.

A woman stepped forward.

Piercings glinted along her face, catching the thin light. Cornrows lay neat and deliberate against her scalp. A long, dark coat hung open just enough to hint at the shape beneath it—

A machine gun, resting easy in her grip.

She didn’t raise it.

She didn’t need to.

Behind her, guns came up in unison.

Clean. Practiced. Lethal.

Vivian’s men outnumbered the camp three to one.

Vivian herself surveyed the camp slowly, eyes moving over barricades, tents, watch towers—

Then lingering on the tank.

"Hm," she muttered, faintly impressed.

"Not too shabby, Hailey."

No one answered.

Vivian smiled.

She lifted two fingers and flicked them forward.

Her men parted the camp like water, weapons herding people aside without a word. Vivian walked straight through the center, boots crunching on gravel, her attention already fixed on her destination.

Hailey was cuffed to a steel pillar.

Her enforcer knelt in front of her, holding out a bottle of water with shaking hands.

"Hailey..." she pleaded softly. "Please. You need to drink."

No response.

Hailey’s head hung low, hair falling forward in uneven strands. Beneath it, her eyes were wrong— bloodshot beyond reason, veins spiderwebbing violently across both whites. Her movements came in small, broken jerks, like her body was lagging behind her thoughts.

Something inside her was fighting.

The enforcer swallowed hard, pushing the bottle closer.

Before she could say anything else—

"Well I’ll be fucked."

The voice cut through the camp like a blade.

The enforcer spun—

Too slow.

Hands grabbed her shoulders and yanked her back. She hit the ground hard, breath punched out of her lungs. Before she could recover, a gun was pressed squarely between her eyes.

Vivian barely spared her a glance.

She crouched instead, lowering herself until she was eye level with Hailey.

Up close, her expression was pure disdain—layered with amusement, like she’d found something rotten exactly where she expected it.

"What a sad sack of shit you turned into," Vivian said lightly.

No response.

Hailey kept her head down.

Vivian leaned closer, trying to catch her face. Shifted to the side. Bent lower.

Hailey twisted away, jaw clenched, refusing to meet her gaze.

Silence stretched.

Then Vivian stood.

She dusted off her coat and tilted her head.

"You’re uglier than I remember," she said thoughtfully. "And that whole half-shaved lesbian look?"

A smirk.

"Doesn’t quite suit you."

"WHY ARE YOU HERE?!"

The shout cracked through the air.

Vivian turned.

The enforcer— still pinned to the ground—glared up at her, defiance burning despite the gun shaking inches from her face.

Vivian smiled wider.

"Why am I here?" she echoed.

She turned back to Hailey, pacing slowly now.

"I heard you ran from Chicago," Vivian continued conversationally. "So I got curious. Wanted to see my old friend. See what she’d been up to."

She gestured around them.

"People. Guns. Territory."

A soft laugh.

"You’ve been busy."

She stopped.

"Did you build all this before the surge?" she asked. "Or after?"

Silence.

No one answered.

Vivian hummed, then smiled again— slow and sharp.

"Hm. Either way..."

Her eyes gleamed.

"I’m jealous."

That finally made Hailey stir.

Just barely.

"So jealous," Vivian went on, voice bright with cruelty, "that I think I’m gonna ruin every single thing you built here."

Hailey’s head lifted a fraction.

Vivian noticed immediately.

"Oh," she purred. "There you are."

"W—what do you plan on doing...?" the enforcer whispered, voice breaking.

Vivian turned to her.

"Well first," she said calmly, "I’m taking every gun you’ve got. Every round. Every little toy you think makes you important."

A beat.

"Not that there’s much."

She shrugged.

"And then?" she continued lightly. "I line your people up. Shoot the ones who scream. Break the ones who don’t."

Hailey’s eyes widened.

Her body began to shake.

Vivian’s smile sharpened.

"Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?" she added. "After all, it’s the doctrine for the people you betrayed."

That did it.

Hailey snapped.

A raw, guttural scream tore out of her as she thrashed against the cuffs, chains rattling violently against the pillar. She lunged forward, teeth bared, eyes blazing red with something feral and unhinged.

Vivian jumped back with a startled laugh.

"Oh—FUCK!" she barked, clutching her chest. "Jesus, that scared the shit outta me!"

Hailey kept screaming. Fighting. Snarling like an animal caught in steel.

Vivian’s laughter faded.

She leaned closer again.

Stared.

Really looked.

"...Wait," she said slowly.

Her grin spread, wide and delighted.

"Holy shit."

She straightened, laughter bursting free this time—loud, unrestrained.

"You’re infected?"

She laughed harder.

"Oh, Hailey," Vivian breathed.

"This just keeps getting better."

She laughed again, slower this time, and wiped the tears from her eyes, the moment stretching before she stepped back fully.

She extended one hand.

One of her men moved instantly, pressing a pistol into her palm. Matte black. Clean. Already loaded.

"Well," Vivian said lightly, rolling the grip once in her hand, "either way..."

A pause.

The camp seemed to shrink inward around her.

"I think I’ll get on with that plan now."

Her gaze flicked sideways.

"But first..."

The gun came up.

Straight.

Unwavering.

The barrel settled inches from Hailey’s enforcer’s face.

Color drained from the woman’s skin. Her breath hitched, shallow and panicked, eyes darting uselessly for mercy that didn’t exist here.

"You?" Vivian said, almost conversational.

"You talk way too fucking much."

Her finger tightened.

"WAIT!"

The shout tore through the moment like glass breaking.

Every head snapped toward the sound.

A man stumbled forward from the edge of the crowd.

"Samuel...?" the enforcer croaked, disbelief threading through her terror.

He looked nothing like a negotiator.

Hair that had once been slicked back now hung in his eyes, matted with sweat and grime. His leather jacket was torn and filthy, sleeves darkened with old blood. He stood hunched, breathing hard—like the weight of the camp was pressing down on his spine.

"Don’t," Samuel said, voice cracking. "Don’t kill her. Please."

Vivian didn’t lower the gun.

Didn’t turn.

Her eyes flicked sideways—just enough to acknowledge him.

"We’ll join you," Samuel rushed on. "All of us. Every person here. We’ll work for you. Fight for you."

Hailey’s gaze snapped to him as she continued to thrash desperately.

He looked at her, something akin to guilt creeping up his spine.

An inhale followed.

Then there was silence.

Thick. Expectant.

Samuel swallowed hard, then forced the words out.

"We— we have information on someone you want," he said. "Something worth burning cities for. Something you’ve been hunting."

Vivian’s finger relaxed.

Just slightly.

She finally turned.

"Itll be a win for us too if we help..."

Her head tilted, studying him like a curious animal that hadn’t decided whether to bite yet.

Behind her, a few of her people exchanged brief looks.

Interest sparked.

A smile crept up on her face.

"Oh?" she said softly.

The gun lowered—just a fraction.

"Well then, I’m listening."