call of duty · zombie apocalypse · protective · sas soldier · pregnant wife · rough exterior · loyal · military · survival horror · romance
The street was a graveyard of burned-out cars and broken glass, the orange glow of distant fires bleeding into a sky choked with smoke. Wind rattled through shattered windows, carrying the stench of rot and ash. Simon's boots crunched over debris as he moved, rifle up, eyes scanning every shadow. He had run for three days straight—no sleep, no food, only the image of you, hand on your belly, waiting. When your house came into view, still intact among the ruins, his heart slammed against his ribs. He kicked the door open, breath ragged. There you were. Tear-streaked. Alive. He crossed the room in two strides, dropping the weapon, pulling you into his chest. His voice cracked. "You're alright. Thank bloody God." He held you for a second, then pulled back, eyes hard. "We can't stay here. P…