The Villains Must Win-Chapter 328: Apocalyptic Romance 38

Days passed—peaceful, or at least as peaceful as the end of the world could offer.

Alvaro and Cloud had both been assigned to the raiding squads, just as Sasha expected. She wasn’t too worried, though. Those two were far from helpless; they fought like men who’d seen hell and decided to stay for breakfast.

Besides, she’d quietly slipped them enough supplies from her ring—ammo, rations, and medkits—to make sure they’d survive even if the camp fell apart tomorrow.

Life here was... different. Compared to the military bastion they’d come from in the south, this camp was practically a vacation resort.

The people were rough, yes, but the rules were looser, the tension lighter. There were no strict roll calls or shouted commands at dawn, no officers barking about hierarchy.

Sasha could move around freely, and she used that freedom well—trading minor favors, quietly building trust, making sure Alvaro and Cloud’s conditions were better than most. They were out there risking their lives, after all.

Every night, when the campfire’s smoke curled up into the cracked ceiling of the old prison yard, Sasha would glance toward the north gate where the raiders returned.

Part of her wanted to go with them—to fight, to make sure that they were alright—but another part knew her place for now was here.

Here, where Dylan worked late into the night.

Here, where information flowed like blood through the veins of the camp.

If she was going to survive this Rank-A world, she had to play the long game—and she was just getting started.

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"We’re running low on medicine," Dylan said one day, his voice quiet but heavy with frustration as he sorted through half-empty bottles and cracked vials. "If we don’t restock soon, we’ll start losing people again. I might have to go with the next raid tomorrow."

Sasha’s eyes lit up. Finally.

That meant she’d get to see Alvaro and Cloud again — both had been too busy with consecutive raids to visit. Just the thought of reuniting with the two men sent a small spark of excitement down her spine.

"I’m going with you," she said without hesitation.

Dylan looked up sharply, brows knitting together. "Are you sure about that?"

"Of course," she said, already crossing her arms with that stubborn confidence that always made him sigh.

"Most women here avoid the raids," he said. "I thought you’d prefer staying where it’s safe."

Sasha let out a small laugh. "Safe? Dylan, there’s no such thing as safe anymore. And in case you’ve forgotten, you met me out there — remember? I’ve been running from undead."

Dylan hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck, muttering, "Honestly, I’d rather you stayed here. You’re the only one who knows how to patch wounds properly. But..." he trailed off, his tone darkening, "every time we send people out, someone doesn’t come back."

"Then it’s settled," she said, her tone bright and defiant. "You’ll need someone to make sure you do come back."

Dylan sighed in defeat, but the corner of his lips twitched. "You’re strange. Most people dread going outside. You look like you’re excited about it."

"I am," she admitted, grinning. "Sitting here and filing reports all day makes me feel like I’m turning into one of the corpses out there. I miss the air. The chaos. The thrill of maybe dying."

He gave her a look that was half disbelief, half amusement. "You do realize that’s not a healthy mindset, right?"

Sasha shrugged. "Hey, at least I’m honest about it. Besides, danger keeps the blood pumping. Builds character."

"Or ends it," Dylan muttered under his breath, then exhaled. "Still, you’re right about one thing. Staying alert keeps us alive."

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "I’m more surprised about you, doctor. You’re a scientist — you should be holed up here with your test tubes, not chasing zombies. Do you even know how to shoot?"

Dylan gave her a sidelong glance, lips quirking. "Enough to hit something that’s already dead."

Sasha snorted. "Comforting."

He leaned against the table, crossing his arms. "Last time I requested medicine from the raid team, they brought me back three boxes of assorted candies. Candies. You can imagine my enthusiasm."

Sasha laughed — genuinely laughed — for the first time in days. "You can’t really blame them. Sometimes, the boxes look the same."

He groaned, though there was a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "If I wanted sugar, I’d raid a bakery."

"Maybe they thought you needed it," she teased, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. "You know, brighten up your personality a little."

Dylan gave her a flat stare that only made her grin wider.

Still, as he turned back to his notes, there was something softer about the line of his mouth — a quiet warmth that hadn’t been there before.

In truth, Dylan had been watching her closely these past few days. Sasha wasn’t like the others. She didn’t flinch at blood, didn’t complain about the heat, didn’t chatter to get his attention.

She just worked. Efficiently, cleverly, with a strange spark of humor that made the grim reality a little lighter.

And maybe that was why she was dangerous. Because for the first time in a long while, he found himself wanting someone to be with him.

Sasha stretched, looking far too relaxed for someone talking about a suicide mission. "Well, doctor, looks like you’re stuck with me tomorrow."

"Remind me again," Dylan said, dryly, "why I agreed to this?"

"Because deep down," she winked, "you can’t resist me."

Dylan scoffed — but he didn’t deny it.

He still felt uneasy about her decision. Sasha was confident, yes — brave, even — but joining the raid was reckless. The world outside wasn’t kind to confidence; it chewed it up and spat out bones.

Dylan leaned back in his chair, staring at the scattered medical notes on his desk. He hated to admit it, but a part of him wished he’d taken more military training instead of spending all his time buried in science and engineering.

If he had, maybe he wouldn’t feel so damn useless whenever danger came close.

Tomorrow, when they stepped beyond the gates, he didn’t just want to rely on luck or logic — he wanted the strength to protect her himself.