The storm had let up, at least enough to not die in.
Cold settled into bones, numbing fingers and thickening air, but the wind had dropped to a hiss, and the whiteout had finally given way to something solid—ghostly, skeletal, and covered in frost.
Clad in borrowed clothes and thinner confidence, they left in pairs. Julyah, Ellis, Adrian, Bryce, Mira, and Greer went south, toward the gas station just out of sight, hopeful it had not been looted already. Every step sank into snow like quicksand, ice crunching under boots and only their breath fogging in the air.
"Looks like no one's taken it," Bryce said, nudging the glass door with his boot. The chime above gave a hollow jingle like a taunt with no teeth.
Inside, it was eerily quiet. Shelves had collapsed long ago. A coffee machine blinked a cracked screen. Plastic signs advertised snacks now rotted in another world. But back in the storage room, luck had finally smiled. Canned food. Bottled water. A generator that still worked. Gas canisters.
It was a jackpot.
Adrian and Bryce went to hauling the heavier items out while the others scoured the place. Julyah slipped behind a fallen shelf, fingertips brushing the tattoo on her wrist through thick gloves. The ink throbbed faintly and she could feel the static of pent magic under her skin.
Her palm warmed.
With a deft motion, she called into being a small kit of heavy-duty tools—then stuffed medicine, soup cans, coffee, and two gas cans into the void only she could reach. All of it disappeared silently. By the time she rejoined the others, her arms were lighter than they should have been—but not suspiciously so.
They packed what they could on their impromptu sled and began the slow march back to camp.
Halfway down the snow-packed street, a voice sliced through the silence.
"Hey! Well, well—look what we got here."
Five figures stepped into view from a nearby alley, hoods and scarves pulled tight against a summer's day in hell. Winter jackets were wrapped in mismatched ways, goggles perched on noses. Faces were obscured, but not expressions. Those were hollow. Hungry. Desperate.
"Is that a woman?" one asked, breath coming in pants that sounded like it hurt to breathe. "Two?"
"I thought all the girls either starved or froze," another muttered. "Or got taken."
Julyah tensed.
Adrian slid in front of her before she could move. Ellis and Bryce shuffled beside her, silent, hands ghosting near holsters. Calm. Practiced. Dangerous.
"Keep walking," Adrian said, cold as ice.
One of the men snorted. "We're not."
Something in the air cracked, the sort of tension that brooked no mistakes.
Adrian stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "Try me."
Bryce allowed the edge of his axe to catch the faint sunlight just enough. Ellis shifted his rifle, no more than an angle from being fully raised—but enough to say what needed no words.
The men wavered. Watched. Then one swore under his breath. They backed away, slowly, eyes never leaving Julyah.
Even after the team had turned away, Julyah could feel their eyes like claws.
It wasn't over.
Only when they crested a nearby ridge and the figures were out of sight did Adrian finally speak.
"Being beautiful in the apocalypse is a liability."
Julyah pulled her hood tighter. "I didn't choose this face. I'd trade it for a bag of rice right now."
Adrian looked at her then, then away as fast. "You shouldn't have to trade anything to feel safe."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, snow falling gently. But something unspoken hung between them, an understanding neither of them had to voice. In this dead, broken world where monsters wore human faces, they were becoming something solid. Something warm.
Adrian's POV – "Pretty Gets You Killed"
She hadn't even flinched when those bastards were leering at her.
That scared him more than if she had.
Adrian had held his posture cool and calm through the whole standoff, but inside, he was gritting his teeth with rage. Not just at them—but at everything the world had become. A place where kindness, dignity, even decency had all bled out long before the first snowflake fell.
He glanced at Julyah as they walked. Her breath coming in soft puffs of cloud. Her coat two sizes too big, her hood slipping across her brow, but she made no complaints. She never did. She just went forward, quiet and steady, strong in a way that made him feel small.
But he saw the way she hugged herself after. The trembling in her hand when she thought no one was watching. It wasn't fear—it was weight. The mental arithmetic of what she could afford to shoulder, emotionally and otherwise.
And she was always shouldering more than she let on.
Beauty had always been a kind of lottery ticket—blessing or curse depending on the day. Out here? It was a flare in the dark. A warning bell. A target.
"You shouldn't have to trade anything to feel safe," he'd told her.
And he'd meant every word.
But somewhere, deep down, he knew she already had. Time and time again.
And he didn't know how to keep her from that without becoming something he wasn't sure she'd want him to be.
Ellis's POV – "She's Not Soft"
Ellis had never trusted pretty girls.
Not because he resented them. But because everyone assumed pretty meant fragile. People projected softness where there was none. As if being easy on the eyes somehow made you easy to break.
But Julyah had wrecked that idea from the start.
She didn't flinch in the midst of chaos. She rationed supplies with a surgeon's precision. She moved with the kind of calm that only came from surviving things no one ever wanted to talk about. And when things got tense at the gas station, she didn't panic.
She got efficient.
Ellis had always been the quiet kind of cautious. The one who watched people twice as long as he spoke to them. Loyalty wasn't something he gave away.
But Julyah had earned it—fast.
She didn't brag. Didn't ask for praise. She worked. She cooked. She made people feel steady just by being in the same room. And while she never demanded attention, she always had it.
Especially Adrian's.
Ellis wasn't blind. He saw it. The way Adrian watched her like she was the only real thing in a world built on ashes.
Ellis didn't mind. If anyone deserved something good, it was her.
And if anyone came for her again, he'd be ready too.
Because Julyah wasn't just trying to survive this broken world. She was trying to make it better.
And that? That was worth protecting.