Eve jolted awake, her fingers instinctively tightened around the bat still gripped in her hand. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep—not really. It wasn’t safe. She’d only meant to rest her eyes for a moment, but clearly, her body had betrayed her. She blinked away the remnants of sleep, trying to regain her bearings.

Something felt off. A strange weight pressed against her shoulder.

Frowning, Eve glanced down, her body tensing as the realization hit her.

Ash.

The girl was leaning into her, her head resting against Eve’s shoulder like it belonged there. Her face was soft in sleep, free of tension and fear. She looked peaceful. Serene. And it was so wildly out of place that Eve didn’t know what to do with it.

Discomfort twisted in her stomach. She sat frozen, caught between the instinct to shove Ash off her and the bewildering need to remain still. Her mind churned. Why the hell would she lean on me? Ash didn’t know her. For all she knew, Eve could be a murderer, some psychopath waiting for the right moment to snap.

People are dangerous, Eve reminded herself, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Unpredictable. Trust is a liability, and closeness… She couldn’t afford closeness.

She shifted slightly, trying to ease her shoulder out from under Ash without waking her, but the girl only stirred faintly, murmuring in her sleep as her head settled more firmly against Eve’s shoulder. Eve bit back a frustrated sigh, her breath puffing in the cold air.

“You’re like a fucking leech,” she muttered under her breath. Her voice was sharp but lacked its usual venom, trailing off into the thick silence of the room.

Then Ash moved.

It was subtle at first—a soft, sleepy moan as her hand reached out blindly, brushing against Eve’s arm before sliding downward. Eve’s breath hitched as Ash’s hand came to rest on her upper thigh, warm and light but unmistakably there.

Her body stiffened.

The warmth of Ash’s hand seemed to sear through the fabric of her jeans, setting every nerve on fire. Eve’s pulse spiked, and her thoughts dissolved into chaotic static. The room felt smaller. The air thickened around her, suffocating.

What in the actual fuck was this?

She shifted again, desperate to dislodge Ash’s hand without waking her, but the movement only made it worse. Ash stirred, her fingers sliding higher, brushing dangerously close to—

A jolt of panic surged through Eve, breaking the trance. She shoved Ash off her, the movement rougher than she’d intended but fueled by the sudden intensity of her discomfort.

Ash slumped sideways with a sleepy mumble, her hand falling limply to the floor. Blinking blearily, she squinted up at Eve, confusion etched across her face.

“What…” Ash started, her voice groggy and thick with sleep.

Eve didn’t let her finish. “I’m checking the store,” she snapped, already standing and gripping her bat like a lifeline.

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and marched toward the front of the store. Her boots scuffed against the cracked tile, the sound sharp and grounding against the roar in her ears.

The store was the same as before—broken shelves, scattered debris, nothing moving in the dim light. No immediate danger. No reason for her to feel like her chest was on fire.

She stopped near the front door, resting her forehead against the cold glass. The chill cut through the heat crawling up her neck, grounding her in the harsh reality of the moment.

Survival. That’s all that matters, she told herself firmly. Not Ash. Not the way her hand had felt. Not the strange knot still twisting in her stomach.

Eve closed her eyes, exhaling sharply as she tried to shove the entire moment into the recesses of her mind.

“Are they still there?” Ash’s soft voice cut through the silence, startling Eve. She jumped slightly, the bat in her hands shifting.

“Jesus Christ, don’t sneak up on people like that!” Eve barked, spinning around. Her tone came out sharper than she intended, but her pulse was still racing.

Ash flinched, looking startled. “I didn’t mean to... I just—” She stopped mid-sentence, her doe-eyed expression locking onto Eve. Her hair was slightly disheveled from sleep, and there was a vulnerability in her gaze that made Eve’s stomach twist.

For a moment, Eve could do nothing but stare. There was something infuriatingly distracting about Ash—the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her lashes caught the light, and the faint flush on her cheeks from waking. It hit her like a punch to the gut.

Eve swallowed hard, her irritation flaring up like a defense mechanism. “What are you looking at?” she snapped, her tone harsher than she intended.

Ash blinked, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Nothing. I just—”

“You just what?” Eve interrupted, her voice rising slightly. “You think you can just... cling to me like I’m some kind of safety net? Newsflash, I’m not here to hold your hand.”

Ash’s face fell, hurt flashing briefly in her eyes before she masked it with frustration. “I wasn’t trying to do anything! I just asked if they were still out there!”

Eve’s jaw tightened, guilt briefly warring with her irritation. She turned away, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “They’re gone,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “I checked. We’re fine.”

Ash didn’t respond immediately. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but firm. “You don’t have to act like this, you know.”

Eve froze, her shoulders stiffening. “Act like what?”

“Like you’re angry all the time,” Ash said, her tone almost tentative. “I’m not your enemy, Eve.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Eve clenched her teeth, her jaw tightening like a vice. “You’re sure as hell not my friend,” she spat, her voice low and sharp.

Ash recoiled slightly, her brows drawing together. The hurt in her eyes was brief but unmistakable.

Eve didn’t let herself linger on it. She couldn’t. She needed to get away from this girl before the knot twisting in her chest grew into something she couldn’t untangle.

“This is where we part,” Eve said bluntly, straightening and gripping the bat like a lifeline. “We’ve stuck together long enough.”

Ash blinked, her mouth opening as if to protest. “What? You’re—are you serious?”

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“Dead serious.” Eve’s tone was clipped, final. She turned her back to Ash, moving toward the shattered storefront to check the street. The dull light filtering through the cracks in the boards revealed a street eerily quiet. It was her chance to leave, and she wasn’t about to let it slip away.

“But why?” Ash pressed, her voice rising with desperation. She followed after Eve, stepping carefully over broken glass. “We’re safer together! Two is better than one, right? I mean—”

Eve turned sharply to face her. “I don’t need you slowing me down. You don’t know how to fight, you're slow, and you cling to me like a lost puppy.”

Ash’s face flushed red. “I can pull my weight! I—”

“You’re dead weight,” Eve snapped, cutting her off. The harshness of her words landed like a slap, and she regretted them the moment she saw the flicker of pain cross Ash’s face.

Ash straightened, her expression hardening as anger quickly replaced the hurt in her eyes. “You think I don’t know that?” she shot back, her voice rising. “Just go! Leave me here to die, then. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Eve blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in her tone. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. The fire in Ash’s voice clashed with the vulnerability in her eyes, and for a moment, Eve felt the faintest tug of guilt.

Ash didn’t let the silence linger. “I’m not stupid, Eve. I know I slow you down. I know I’m not as strong or as resourceful as you. But you don’t have to remind me every damn time.” Her voice cracked, her frustration cutting through the icy air.

Eve’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t immediately respond. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to deal with the raw emotion radiating from Ash.

“Go ahead,” Ash continued, throwing up her hands. “Walk out that door. I’ll figure it out. Or I won’t. Either way, it’s not your problem anymore.”

Something in the way Ash’s voice broke on the last word made Eve’s chest tighten uncomfortably. She hated this. She hated the weight of the moment, the way it clawed at something deep inside her.

“This isn’t about leaving anyone to die,” Eve said finally, her voice cold and steady. “It’s about survival. I don’t owe you anything, Ash. You’re not my responsibility.”

Ash let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “No, you don’t owe me a damn thing,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But excuse me for wanting to stick around the person who’s saved my life—what, twice now? Guess that makes me the idiot, huh?”

Eve’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She had no retort because Ash was right.

“Why did you even bother if you were just going to dump me later?” Ash’s voice softened, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface.

Eve felt the question hit her like a punch to the gut. She had no answer—not one that made sense, not one she could admit. “I don’t know,” she muttered, avoiding Ash’s gaze.

The air between them grew heavy again, thick with unspoken tension. For a moment, neither of them moved.

“Fine,” Ash said, her tone clipped. “Go. I’m not going to beg you to stay.”

Eve clenched her jaw, her fingers gripping the bat in her hand so tightly it hurt. She wanted to say something—anything—to end the conversation, but nothing came. Instead, she turned toward the door, her boots crunching against the broken tile as she walked away.

The cold wind bit at her face as she stepped outside, the dim morning light casting long shadows over the empty street. Her heart was pounding, though she couldn’t say why.

She moved quickly, not daring to look back. She needed distance, needed to get away from the weight of Ash’s words and the confusing knot of emotions twisting in her chest.

But as she reached the edge of the parking lot, she heard it: the faint shuffle of footsteps behind her.

Eve’s shoulders stiffened. She turned her head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Ash trailing a dozen paces behind her.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eve called over her shoulder, her voice sharp, edged with irritation.

Ash didn’t stop. She didn’t even look at Eve, her footsteps crunching softly against the broken pavement.

“Surviving,” Ash replied, her tone steady but laced with quiet defiance. “Just like you.”

Eve stared at her for a long moment, frustration and something she couldn’t quite name bubbling beneath the surface. Finally, she exhaled sharply and turned away, quickening her pace.

But no matter how fast she walked, Ash remained behind her, stubbornly keeping her distance but refusing to disappear entirely.

Eve muttered a string of curses under her breath, her grip tightening around the bat. “Unbelievable,” she hissed, her pace quickening as if putting more distance between them would somehow shake Ash off her trail. It didn’t.

Ash trudged along, keeping several feet behind, her shoulders squared, and her face set in quiet determination. She wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was following. That made it worse somehow, more infuriating. Eve felt a flush of heat spread through her chest, a mix of frustration and something else—something raw and unspoken—that she quickly pushed aside.

Spinning around abruptly, Eve stormed up to Ash, her boots clicking against the ground with each furious step. She stopped just short of Ash, getting right in her face, her breath coming fast and shallow. “What’s your plan here, huh?” she snapped, her voice low and tight with anger. “Just keep tailing me like a stray dog? You think I’m going to change my mind?”

Ash stopped in her tracks but didn’t falter. Her expression was calm, unreadable, but there was a fire in her eyes that Eve hadn’t seen before. “I don’t need you to change your mind. I’m not asking you to carry me. I’ll figure it out. I just...” She hesitated, glancing at the ground for a fleeting moment before meeting Eve’s eyes again. “I don’t want to be alone.”

The words hung in the air, slicing through the cold silence between them. Eve’s jaw tightened, her mind spinning, trying to settle on something—anything—that made sense. She could feel Ash’s gaze on her, steady and unflinching, like she was waiting for something to break, waiting for Eve to give her an answer.

Eve’s chest tightened, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. The words felt heavy, as if they carried more weight than they should. It wasn’t her problem, she told herself. Ash wasn’t her responsibility. She barely knew the girl. And yet, the thought nagged at her—but maybe she was.

She couldn’t shake the memory of the way Ash had looked when she first found her—broken, desperate, just another survivor clinging to life. Eve had done what she had to, of course. She’d saved her. That’s what people did in the end, right? But now... the question kept coming back, louder and more insistent. Did that make her culpable?

Eve exhaled sharply, her breath clouding in the chilly air. No, she thought. She can’t be responsible for her. She can’t be responsible for anyone anymore.

But the quiet stirrings of doubt twisted in her gut, making her second-guess every hard decision she’d made up until this point. Because she had saved Ash’s life.

There was something about the way Ash stood there, unyielding yet vulnerable, it tugged at the edges of Eve’s resolve. She shoved the feeling away, burying it deep where it couldn’t get in the way.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Eve snapped, turning on her heel. “I’m not here to play babysitter.”

She marched ahead, her boots scuffing against the uneven ground. But no matter how fast she walked, the sound of Ash’s footsteps followed, steady and unwavering.

Eve gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to whirl around and yell at her again. What was the point? Ash was stubborn, and clearly, no amount of logic or anger was going to change her mind. Let her follow, Eve thought bitterly. She’d figure out soon enough how hard it was out here.

Still, as the minutes stretched on and the distance between them remained unbroken, Eve couldn’t ignore the gnawing discomfort in her chest. She told herself it was irritation, nothing more. But when she risked a glance over her shoulder and saw Ash still trailing behind, her expression guarded but determined, Eve felt something shift. It wasn’t guilt—not exactly. It was... complicated.

Eve let out a deep, frustrated sigh, her breath hissing through clenched teeth as she muttered a curse under her breath. She turned to face Ash, her eyes narrowing. “Fine,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. “But if you slow me down, you’re on your own.”

Ash didn’t respond, but her lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. She adjusted the strap of her bag and kept walking, her pace steady as she followed in Eve’s footsteps.

Eve couldn’t believe how stubborn Ash was. She shook her head, frustration bubbling up, but there was something else—something like a begrudging respect—for the woman’s determination. She’d been played, but damn if she wasn’t impressed by Ash’s guts. For a second, Eve almost let a smile slip before she forced it down.