The convoy rolled out at 0500 exactly.
Three heavily armored trucks rumbled up the long underground ramp, their engines echoing like thunder.
Ty sat in the back of the second vehicle with a mix of rookies and veterans, rifle across his lap, heart beating steady.
It had been a while since he'd seen real sunlight. He'd survived topside alone or with tiny scavenger groups—quiet, careful, invisible.
Now he was part of a loud, aggressive pride of armed men and women who all looked to one person like he was a god.
Nade.
Noah.
The man who had pinned him against glass and made him come harder than he ever had in his life.
Ty clenched his jaw and stared out the small reinforced window as the truck emerged into the gray dawn light.
The surface world looked exactly as ruined as he remembered: overgrown highways cracked by roots, skeletal remains of cars rusting in ditches, distant collapsed buildings half-swallowed by growong vines. The air smelled of damp earth, decay, and faint ash.
"First time topside with a group?" one of the rookies asked him nervously.
Ty shook his head. "With a group like this. Yea. But no, it's not been my 'first' time topside."
The convoy moved in tight formation. Noah rode in the lead truck, visible occasionally through the windows—tall, imposing, black tactical gear making him look even larger.
Jax was in the same truck as Ty, sitting across from him and shooting occasional flirty glances despite the fresh bruise on his jaw.
They drove for nearly two hours before reaching the old National Guard depot. The facility was a complex of warehouses and bunkers surrounded by chain-link fences that had long since been torn apart.
Vines and rust covered everything.
"Disembark!" Rafe barked as the trucks stopped in a defensive circle. "Tight formation. Eyes open."
Ty stepped out, boots crunching on broken asphalt.
The fresh air hit him hard—cleaner than the recycled underground air, but carrying the faint stench of death on the wind.
He instinctively moved toward the edge of the group, rifle ready. The others clustered closer to Noah, who stood like a dark king watching his territory, mutated scars catching the morning light.
Ty preferred the perimeter. He didn't know these people. Didn't trust them. And being near Noah right now made his skin burn with unwanted memories.
They moved into the depot in teams. Ty stuck to the flanks, scanning rooftops and shadows the way he'd learned years ago.
A couple of fleshbounds scrambled out from behind a truck—they were put down quickly with suppressed shots.
"Nice grouping," Jax murmured, falling into step beside him with a grin. "You really are a good shot."
Ty didn't answer.
They pushed deeper. The main warehouse loomed ahead—massive steel doors hanging crookedly off their tracks. Inside, the air was darker, dustier, and carried a familiar rotten-sweet smell.
Fleshbounds.
Three of them suddenly burst from behind stacked crates, snarling with mutated rage. Their bodies were twisted—bulging muscles, black veins, jagged scars, black eyes glowing faintly.
They were like Noah, but uglier.
"Hold fire!" Noah's voice cut through the tension like a blade. He stepped forward. "Leave three alive. Use the darts. The rest—put them down."
The team moved with practiced efficiency.
Several soldiers raised modified rifles loaded with thick tranquilizer darts instead of normal rounds.
Ty hesitated only a second before raising his own weapon. He'd seen these darts in the armory but had never used one.
One fleshbound charged straight at their group.
Ty breathed out, steadied his aim, and fired.
Thwip.
A single clean shot. The dart buried itself perfectly in the side of the creature's neck.
The fleshbound staggered, roared once, then collapsed heavily to the ground, twitching.
Silence fell for a beat.
"Damn," someone muttered.
"Fuckin' hell, one shot?" another said, impressed.
Jax whistled low, green eyes wide with admiration. "Nice. Real nice, pretty boy."
Even Rafe gave him an approving nod.
The rest of the team worked quickly. Two more fleshbounds were darted in the neck and subdued. The others were gunned down with regular ammunition.
The three captured ones were dragged toward the trucks, heavy collars and chains slapped on them while they were still unconscious.
Ty watched with growing unease as the bound fleshbounds were loaded into a reinforced cage in the back of one truck.
What the hell are they doing with them? he thought. Experiments? Food? Weapons?
Noah's cold eyes flicked toward him for a moment.
Ty looked away quickly.
"Keep moving," Noah ordered. "Search every section. Take anything useful."
The group spread out. Ty stayed on the outer edge again, moving through side corridors and storage rooms. He found a few sealed crates of ammunition and medical supplies, marking them for collection.
Jax kept trying to stick close, cracking jokes and complimenting his shot, but Ty mostly ignored him.
They cleared floor after floor—killing stray infected, darting a few more aggressive ones, and stacking supplies near the entrance.
The depot was surprisingly rich in resources. Preserved MREs, fuel drums, even a few working solar panels.
Eventually, after nearly two hours of careful searching, the group came together on the main hall at the center of the complex.
It was a vast open space, high ceilings crisscrossed with broken catwalks, massive shelves lining the walls. Sunlight filtered through shattered skylights.
Noah stood near the center, surveying the haul with satisfaction.
The black veins on his neck were faintly visible in the daylight, but calmer than usual.
Ty hung back near a pillar, rifle lowered but eyes sharp.
His mind was racing.
This is it. A big place. Lots of exits. If I can slip away during the loading…
But something in his chest twisted at the thought. The memory of Noah's almost-human face in the shower refused to leave him.
Rafe's voice echoed across the hall. "Secure the perimeter! We load up and roll out in 2 hours!"
Ty exhaled slowly, gripping his rifle tighter.