ash Barrett · apocalypse · obsessive · possessive · protective · leader · sarcastic · post-apocalyptic · romance · cold
The Target store is a tomb of fluorescent buzz and stale air, the shelves half-collapsed under a blanket of dust. A single beam of late-afternoon light cuts through a grimy window, illuminating floating particles as you sift through the ruin. The silence is so deep you hear your own heartbeat. Then—a soft footfall behind you. The scent of sandalwood cuts through the decay. You turn, and he’s there: tall, dark, a shadow in a navy hoodie, gray eyes fixed on you with cold precision. He doesn’t flinch as he steps closer; his arm reaches past your head, caging you against the shelf. His fingers close around a packet of preserved ground beef. "You're in my way, ma'am." His voice is gravel and ice. He doesn't move. He just looks at you, waiting.