Surviving the Apocalypse With My Yandere Ex-Girlfriend-Chapter 110: Saints

"Aubrey?" Julia asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Aubrey didn’t react. Her eyes were fixed on Damien across the room, but she wasn’t really seeing him.

"Aubrey, you straight?"

She wasn’t.

—

BANG. BANG.

The gunshots had split the alley open that night.

Damien’s fist had been mid-swing, about to sink into Adrian’s stomach again. Adrian—bruised, barely standing, surrounded by Damien’s crew like they were putting on a show.

The one she loved.

Why the hell had he joined them in the first place?

"S—shit... the bitch has a gun!" someone had shouted.

"Look at her tattoos... is she gang affiliated?"

"She looks dead serious."

She had been.

Lila had stepped up behind her as backup, but Aubrey was the one holding the gun. Her hands hadn’t even shaken.

Damien had looked at her, his grip still twisted in Adrian’s collar.

And Adrian had scoffed when he saw her.

Like he hated that she was the one saving him.

Something small had cracked in her chest.

"Let him go, Damien," she had said evenly. "You know I’m not afraid to use this."

Silence had stretched between them.

Then Damien smiled and dropped Adrian like he was trash.

Lila rushed in to catch him before he hit the pavement. Aubrey just stood there, gun still raised, watching as the crew slowly backed away.

They scattered, but Damien walked straight past her.

"Punk," she muttered.

He glanced at her with a smirk. "You better watch yourself from now on."

She watched him walk out of the alleyway, stepping onto the sidewalk as he yanked open the door to his Honda. It rumbled as it sped off with the others inside.

"Fuck with the bull, you get the horns bitch!"

—

The memory snapped away.

She was back in the room, staring at him again.

Damien scoffed and turned his back like she wasn’t worth the time.

"Why’s that douchebag here with you guys?" Aubrey muttered, just loud enough for Julia to hear.

"Oh... Damien?" Julia said carefully, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "He’s... changed a lot since the surge."

"And you believe that?" Aubrey shot back.

Julia’s expression shifted. "He watched his mom turn."

Aubrey frowned.

"She killed his dad and little brother right in front of him," Julia continued quietly. "He told me everything."

A pause settled between them.

Aubrey’s eyes widened slightly. Something uncomfortable twisted in her chest.

"So I cut him some slack," Julia finished. "As long as he doesn’t bother anyone."

Aubrey stood there for a moment, her gaze slowly beginning to harden.

"Trauma doesn’t make people saints," she said at last. "It just makes them more dangerous."

Julia went silent, frowning as the words sunk in.

Aubrey turned to Isabella after a beat.

"Come on. We’re leaving."

Isabella nodded without hesitation.

"Already?" Julia asked from behind them.

Aubrey didn’t answer. She just took Isabella’s hand and started toward the door.

"It was nice seeing you, Julia," she said over her shoulder.

"What do you plan on doing from here?" Julia asked.

Aubrey stopped.

For a second, the room felt too small.

"I’m gonna find Adrian," she said. "And then we’re leaving Chicago."

"Got a plan?"

She didn’t respond.

Before she could move again, Julia spoke up.

"I wanna help."

Both Aubrey and Isabella turned.

Surprise flickered across their faces.

Across the room, Damien glanced back at them from where he sat, his expression unreadable.

"We’re sitting ducks out here. With your help, we have a chance."

Isabella looked at Aubrey, a pensive expression on her face as if she was waiting for her to make a decision.

—

Maybe it was Chicago.

Maybe coming back here had done something to me. The streets, the air, the memories buried under every cracked sidewalk. Maybe that was why survival suddenly felt harder than it used to.

No. That sounded stupid.

"Adrian?"

Or maybe it was my body trying to protect itself. I had pushed the lattice too far the last time. I remembered the blood. How lightheaded I felt after. Maybe my mind had pulled the emergency brake before I could burn myself out completely.

I had frozen too many times lately. I was too slow. Too unsure about myself.

"Honey... please don’t ignore me."

I sighed and kept my eyes on the trees flying past the window. Lila drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift. The forest blurred into streaks of green and gray.

I tried to drown her voice out with my own thoughts.

So far, it was working.

We had barely escaped the last encounter. Barely. And somewhere in the middle of the gunfire and screaming, I had convinced myself that I would be better off alone.

I let out a quiet chuckle at that.

God, that was stupid. I would have been dead within a day.

As for the compound, I already knew I was not going back. Not after everything.

The truth sat heavy in my chest.

I really didn’t have anyone.

My eyes shifted to her.

Lila glanced at me and smiled. Her eyes creased at the corners like everything was fine.

What the hell was she smiling about?

"Something funny, sweetie?" she asked lightly.

She must have heard me laugh.

I looked away again, back to the passing trees.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hand leave the wheel. She reached toward me slowly, like she was approaching something fragile.

I caught her wrist before she could touch me.

"Don’t. Touch me," I said, sharper than I meant to.

I let her hand go.

The smile fell from her face. A frown replaced it, and for a moment her expression looked like it was cracking apart.

It looked real.

But I knew better.

Everything about her felt rehearsed now. The softness. The concern. The way she said my name.

Just a big fake.

I was not going to lie to myself again.

Not about her.

As we kept driving, the streets started to look familiar.

Not in a good way.

The buildings were scorched black, windows blown out, brick stained dark with old blood. Street signs hung crooked, some half-melted, some tagged over. I knew this stretch of road. My stomach tightened before my brain even caught up.

Then I saw it.

Englewood STEM High.

The letters were still bolted above the entrance, though a few hung loose. The lawn was overgrown, grass matted down in patches where blood had soaked deep into the soil.

Trees lined the curb, some snapped in half, others left wild and clawing at the sky. The parking lot was scattered with bodies. Some were skeletons wrapped in fabric. Others were still in the middle of rotting.

Lila slowed the car and rolled it right up under the front overhang.

This place had been a nightmare long before the Surge. The hallways. The fights. The way you had to watch your back every second. I had sworn I would never come back after graduation.

Now it looked like hell had chosen it as a vacation home.

"What the fuck are we doing here?" I asked, turning to her.

She had that smile again. Calm. Almost excited.

"There’s something here I left behind. I want to look for it."

My eyebrows pulled together.

Sure there was.

"Come on," she said, softer now. "Just entertain this for one minute. Please?"

I stared at her. The way she said please almost sounded normal. Almost.

I scoffed and reached for the handle.

When I opened the door, the smell hit first.

Rot. Iron. Something worse.

A few yards away, a cluster of infected crouched over a body. Their eyes glowed red, twitching as they tore into it. One of them was trembling, shoulders jerking as it bit down again and again. Another was doing something I didn’t want to fully process.

I flinched and froze halfway out of the car.

"They’re busy, Adrian," Lila said gently. "They won’t touch you."

Her hand settled on my shoulder.

"Trust m—"

"I know," I cut in.

I shrugged her hand off, unlocked the door fully, and stepped out onto the pavement.

The infected didn’t even look up.

The front doors groaned when we pushed them open.

The sound echoed through the lobby like the building was clearing its throat after years of silence. The air inside was stale. Lockers lined the walls, some ripped open, others still decorated with faded stickers and peeling tape.

I stood there for a second.

Same floors. Same ugly tile pattern.

Different world.

Lila stepped in beside me, her boots crunching over broken glass. She didn’t speak right away. For once, she wasn’t smiling like this was some kind of game.

"You remember the smell?" she asked quietly.

I huffed a faint laugh before I could stop myself. "Yeah. Cafeteria pizza and bleach."

"And sweat," she added. "Don’t forget the sweat."

That pulled something out of me. A real smile, small but there.

We walked down the main hallway slowly. Our footsteps echoed. Lockers were dented from panic, from people trying to hide or break in when the Surge first hit.

I stopped in front of one without thinking.

"Still remember your combo?" she asked.

"Probably."

"You used to guard this thing like it held nuclear codes."

"It kind of did."

She leaned against the locker next to mine. "Your track medals."

I looked at her.

"You used to pretend it wasn’t a big deal," she continued. "Like you didn’t care."

"I didn’t."

"That’s a lie."

I didn’t answer.

We kept walking.

The gym doors were cracked open. The court inside was warped and stained. The banners still hung from the ceiling—Regionals, City Champs. My name was probably still printed somewhere back there.

"You were so annoying," she said suddenly.

I glanced at her. "Excuse me?"

"You were good at everything. Classes. Sports. Teachers loved you. You walked around like you had life figured out at seventeen."

"That’s not how it felt."

She slowed.

"I know," she said softly.

We reached the stairwell. Sunlight spilled through a cracked window, catching dust in the air.

"You want to know what I thought when I first met you?" she asked.

I didn’t respond.

"I thought you were untouchable," she said. "Smart. Athletic. Calm. Like nothing got to you." She gave a faint smile. "You looked like someone who’d never been scared a day in your life."

I swallowed.

She stepped closer, her voice lowering.

"But not many people knew what you were really like."

My jaw tightened.

"I did," she said.

I looked at her then.

"You used to stay after practice," she continued. "Sitting in the bleachers alone. Staring at nothing. You thought no one noticed."

"I was just tired."

"No. You were overwhelmed."

Her eyes searched mine, not accusing. Not mocking. Just... seeing.

"You carried everything by yourself," she said. "Your grades. Your family. Expectations. You didn’t let anyone help you. You didn’t let anyone see you crack."

Something in my chest shifted.

We moved toward the old science wing. The glass on the classroom doors was shattered. Inside, desks were overturned, dried blood marking the tiles.

"You remember the time you bombed that chem test?" she asked suddenly.

I blinked. "I didn’t bomb it."

"You got an eighty-two."

"That’s not bombing."

"For you, it was." She smiled faintly. "You didn’t talk to anyone for two days."

I let out a breath through my nose.

"You sat right there," she said, pointing into the classroom. "Head down. I asked if you were okay and you said, ’I’ll survive.’"

"I did."

She stepped in front of me now, blocking my path gently.

"You don’t always have to just survive, Adrian."

The hallway was quiet. Too quiet.

"I know I’ve messed up," she said. "I know I don’t always make it easy for you to trust me." Her voice didn’t shake, but it wasn’t strong either. It was careful. Honest.

"I met you here," she continued. "Before the lattice. Before the Surge. Before any of this." She gestured around them. "And I didn’t fall for you because you were strong."

I looked away.

"I fell for you because you weren’t," she said.

That hit harder than I expected.

"You were human," she added. "You were scared sometimes. You doubted yourself. You cared too much. And you tried anyway."

Silence stretched between us.

The wind pushed through a broken window somewhere above. The building creaked.

"I don’t want to control you," she said quietly. "I don’t want to decide things for you. I don’t want you thinking I see you as weak."

Her hand moved slowly to her waistband.

My body tensed out of instinct.

She noticed.

"I’m not doing anything crazy," she murmured.

She pulled out her gun.

For a second, the weight of it in her hand felt heavier than the air around us.

She stepped closer.

I didn’t move.

She lifted the gun and pressed it gently against my chest, right over my heart.

Not threatening.

Offering.

"If you’re going to walk beside me," she said softly, "then you walk armed."

My breath caught.

Her fingers loosened, inviting me to take it.

A small smile curved her lips. Not forced. Not sharp.

Real.

"Your turn to protect yourself," she whispered.

I stared down at the gun between us.

"What about—"

"I’ll find another one." She said softly.

I smiled at her, something warm settling in my chest.

For the first time in a long time, I couldn’t tell if what I felt was anxiety—

or hope.