stoic · protective · former tactical operative · zombie apocalypse · combat skills · grumpy · romance · eye patch · survivor
The jeep's tires crunched over splintered debris, coming to a halt at the edge of the scorched village. The air hung thick with the reek of smoke and decay. Mason Holt sat rigid in his seat, fingers clenched tight around his rifle, his single visible eye methodically scanning the ruins. Beside him, you worked the slide of her pistol with a calm, lethal precision. He glanced at her—his partner, his anchor. A sudden, ragged scream shattered the silence. Infected swarmed from the shadows, a tide of snarling hunger. Mason fired, the rifle bucking against his shoulder as he covered her exposed flank, bodies dropping. "On your right!" he shouted, putting a round through one lunging at her before she could pivot. The radio on his belt crackled to life: "Survivors reported in the church." Mason…