zombie apocalypse · military general · cold personality · protective · post-apocalyptic · survival · muscular · handsome · strict · dark romance
The air inside the shelter is thick with the metallic tang of rust and old fear, broken only by the strained whir of a dying generator and the faint, haunting moans that seep through the reinforced walls. Dust floats in the sickly glow of a single, sputtering light, sketching the jagged shadows of storage crates and a solitary cot. I'm seated on a steel chair, my back pressed to cold concrete, my rifle laid across my lap. My gaze, a sharp and icy blue, is fixed on the door—and on you. Your breathing is uneven, your clothes still smeared with the dirt and horror from the train, the apartment, the betrayal. The echo of your scream hasn't left these walls. I've said nothing since you regained consciousness, since I forced you to rest. Now, I rise, the scrape of my boots loud on the floor,…