The abandoned supermarket had looked promising from the outside—intact windows, no obvious signs of occupation. Zayne had checked for hybrid markings while Nana scanned for demon corruption. Both had come up clean.
They should have known it was too good to be true.
The group emerged from the back storage area as soon as they entered—seven men, various ages, all wearing the kind of cruel smiles that meant they'd stopped being human a long time ago.
The leader was a heavyset man with filed teeth and eyes that lingered on Nana in a way that made Zayne's blood run cold.
"Well, well," the leader drawled, stepping forward. "What do we have here? A pretty little thing and her..." He looked Zayne up and down dismissively. "Weak boyfriend? Those pretty hazel eyes won't help you in a fight, boy."
Zayne hand moved to his twin blades automatically. Beside him, Nana had already shifted into a combat stance, her sword ready.
"Leave," Zayne said, his voice flat and cold. "Now. While you still can."
The men laughed.
"Oh, I don't think so," the leader continued, his eyes still on Nana. "See, we've claimed this territory. And everything in it. Including—" He licked his lips. "Including any pretty survivors who wander in. We could use some... entertainment. Been a long time since we've had a woman who—"
Zayne's blade was through his shoulder before he finished the sentence.
The movement was so fast, so precise, that the leader didn't even register the attack until blood started spreading across his shirt.
He screamed, stumbling back.
"You were warned," Zayne said quietly, and something in his voice made even Nana glance at him sharply.
She'd seen Zayne fight before—seen his clinical precision, his calculated strikes.
But this was different. This was fury, barely contained beneath ice-cold control.
The other six men charged.
Nana moved to engage, her sword coming up to meet the first attacker. Her kick caught him in the chest—always with the kicks, some distant part of her mind noted with amusement—and he stumbled backward.
She spun, using the momentum to drive him face-first into the concrete floor, then finished him with her blade.
Black mist. Gone.
Two more came at her from both sides.
She ducked under one's swing, her sword taking his legs out. The other got her boot in his face, shattering his nose. Clean kills, efficient.even as she fought, part of her attention was on Zayne.
Holy shit, she thought, watching him work.
His twin blades moved like extensions of his body—no wasted movement, every strike finding vital points with surgical precision.
One attacker went down with a blade through his throat. Another lost the use of his sword arm and then his head in two quick motions.
But it was the way he moved that caught Nana's attention.
The cold fury in every strike. The ice literally forming around his blades, making them sharper, more lethal. The absolute lack of mercy.
This is what three years alone did to him, she realized. This is the killer Avalon created.
And god help her, it was attractive.
The precise lethality, the controlled rage, the way his body moved with predatory grace—two attackers tried to run.
Zayne caught one with a thrown blade that took him through the spine. The other made it three steps before Zayne's ice evol froze his legs solid, sending him crashing to the ground.
The leader, still alive despite his shoulder wound, was trying to crawl away. Zayne walked over to him slowly, deliberately. Blood dripped from his blades, and a smear of it marked his cheek.
"You made a mistake," Zayne said quietly, hauling the leader up by his shirt. "Talking about her like that. Looking at her like that."
"Please—" the leader gasped. "I didn't—we were just—"
"You were threatening her." Zayne's voice was arctic. "Implying things I won't even repeat. That was your last mistake."
He dragged the leader to the supermarket's entrance and quite literally threw him outside—where a demon pack had been drawn by the sounds of fighting.
The leader's scream cut off abruptly as the demons descended.
Zayne turned back, wiping the blood from his cheek absently, and found Nana staring at him with wide eyes.
"What?" he asked, immediately moving to check her for injuries. "Are you hurt? Did any of them—"
"I'm fine." Nana's voice came out slightly breathless. "I just... I didn't know you could fight like that."
"I've had three years to practice." Zayne's hands were gentle as they examined her arms, her shoulders, checking for wounds. "And I've had three years to develop a very specific policy about people who threaten you."
"Which is?"
"They don't survive the encounter." He said it so matter-of-factly that it took Nana a second to process.
Oh, her brain supplied helpfully. He's absolutely furious.
And also really, really hot right now.
"You're blushing," Zayne observed, his cold fury giving way to confusion. "Why are you—"
"I'm not blushing!" Nana protested, but she could feel the heat in her cheeks. "I'm just... surprised. You're usually so controlled."
"I am controlled." But his jaw was still tight, ice still radiating from him in waves cold enough to make Nana shiver. "That's why they're dead quickly instead of slowly."
The temperature around them was dropping noticeably, frost forming on nearby surfaces. Zayne noticed Nana shivering and immediately tried to pull back, to control his evol.
"I'm sorry " he muttered. "I'm... I'll calm down. Just give me a moment."
"Hey." Nana caught his hand, lacing their fingers together. The cold was intense but not painful—just there, like holding winter itself. "It's okay. I get it. They were..." She couldn't finish, didn't want to repeat what the leader had said.
Zayne's grip tightened on her hand.
"If anyone ever tries to hurt you like that again—"
"You'll handle it. I know." Nana smiled despite everything. "My ice-cold protector."
"Not just ice-cold anymore, apparently."
But holding her hand was helping, the rage slowly settling back into its usual controlled state. "Come on. Let's find another shelter. This place is compromised."
They salvaged what supplies they could—the group had actually accumulated a decent stash—and moved on. By the time they found a suitable building for the night, the sky had opened up.
Rain.
Real rain, not the poison gas or blood rain or any of Avalon's other twisted variations. Just... water, falling from the sky, clean and cold and normal.
Nana stopped dead in the doorway of their shelter, staring up at the gray clouds.
"It's raining," she whispered.
"So it is." Zayne was already moving to secure the building. "We should get inside before—"
"No." Nana walked back out into the rain, spreading her arms. "Zayne, when was the last time it rained real rain? Not poison, not blood, just... rain?"
Zayne began to thinking. "Eight months ago. Maybe longer."
"Exactly." Nana was already pulling off her jacket, letting the water wash over her. The blood and dust and grime from weeks of fighting began to rinse away, revealing skin underneath. "Come on! This is like a free shower!"
"Nana, you'll catch a cold—"
"In Avalon? With creatures that can kill us in a hundred different ways, you're worried about a cold?" She laughed, spinning in the rain. "Live a little, Doc!"
Zayne watched her for a moment—this woman who could kill demons without mercy, who'd survived months of horror, who'd lost everyone she cared about, now spinning in the rain like she didn't have a care in the world.
So beautiful, he thought. Even here. Especially here.
He set down his pack and joined her.
The rain was cold, clean, washing away the blood on his hands and face. Nana grinned at him, and for a moment, they weren't survivors in hell. They were just... two people, standing in the rain.
Zayne reached out, using his thumbs to gently wipe away the last traces of blood and grime from her face. Without the dirt and death, she looked like the Nana from Linkon—bright-eyed and alive and here.
"There," he murmured. "Now I can actually see you."
"I'm always here," Nana said softly, her hand covering his. "You don't have to—"
The sky changed.
The temperature spiked so suddenly that the rain began to boil as it fell. Both of them looked up to see the impossible:Giant Eagle Fire Spirit, its wings spread wide, flames pouring from its body as it circled overhead.
"Inside!" Zayne grabbed Nana, pulling her toward the building. "NOW!"
They crashed through the door just as the first wave of fire rolled across the street outside. The rain evaporated instantly, replaced by flames that consumed everything—concrete, metal, the very air itself.
Zayne slammed the door shut and immediately checked the building's integrity. Concrete walls, minimal windows. They'd be safe here. Probably.
Behind him, Nana had gone very still, staring out the small window at the fire raging outside.
"Nana?" He turned to check on her and froze.She was shaking. Not from cold or fear of the immediate danger, but something deeper. Her eyes were fixed on the flames, and her expression—
Oh no.
"The hospital," she whispered. "The fire. Everyone was burning. Simon tried to save them, but—" Her voice cracked. "And Mina. She got bitten during the fire. The demons came because of the chaos, and she—"
Zayne pulled her into his arms before she could finish, holding her tight against his chest. She collapsed into him, body wracking with sobs.
"I killed her," Nana gasped. "I had to kill her. She asked me to, and I did it, and the whole time everything was burning—"
"I know. I know." Zayne's hand stroked her short hair, his other arm wrapped around her waist. "You did what you had to do.
she needed you to do."
"It hurt so much." Nana's fingers clutched his shirt desperately. "Not the fire. Losing her. Having to be the one to—"
"I know," Zayne repeated, pressing kisses to her hair, her forehead, anywhere he could reach. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that alone. I'm so sorry I wasn't there."
They sank to the floor together, Nana still shaking in his arms while fire raged outside. The cycle would last hours—burning everything in its path, killing indiscriminately.
Just like it had killed Mina's base.
Just like it had forced Nana to make the hardest choice of her life.
"She told me to find you," Nana whispered eventually, when the sobs had quieted to hiccups. "Her last words were about finding you. About surviving. About living "
"Then we honor her memory by doing exactly that." Zayne pulled back enough to cup her face in both hands. "We survive. We cross the Wish Bridge. We get out of this nightmare. And when we're home, we make sure everyone knows about Mina. About how brave she was. How she saved you. How she made it possible for us to be together."
"Promise?"
"I promise." He kissed her forehead, then her nose, then finally her lips—soft and gentle and full of the love he'd carried for three years. "Three weeks until the blood moon. Three weeks until we end this."
Nana kissed him back, tasting salt and rain and hope. "Three weeks."
Outside, the fire spirit continued its rampage, burning everything in sight.
But inside their shelter, two survivors held each other and planned for the impossible.
Because they had to believe it was possible.
Because the alternative was giving up.
And neither of them had survived this long just to quit now.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.