CHAPTER 312: APOCALYPTIC ROMANCE 22

Alvaro only shrugged, casual as ever. "I’m used to danger. Besides, guard duty’s boring. And anyway, they throw all the newcomers into raids. They have fewer men in there."

Sasha crossed her arms. "Maybe because it’s the most dangerous job? You know that this isn’t funny, right?"

Alvaro’s lips curved into that familiar, maddening smirk. "I wasn’t joking." His eyes glinted, steady and sure. "Don’t worry, I can handle it."

Something about his tone made her want to smack him—and trust him—all at once.

Sasha’s eyes softened, frustration melting into concern. "Of course I’m worried about you," she said. What if he’s the villain and dies out there before I can confirm it? she added silently.

Alvaro froze for a second — not at her words, but at her tone. It was rare to hear sincerity from Sasha. He smiled faintly. "Don’t worry. I can take care of myself."

"You always say that before something explodes," she muttered.

"Still alive, aren’t I?"

Sasha crossed her arms. "If you’re going to raids, then I’m going with you."

That made him pause mid-bite. "You? No. It’s safer here."

"I’m safer where you are," she replied without hesitation.

That shut him up.

Alvaro’s cocky grin faltered just a little. His gaze swept around the hall — a dozen rough men staring too long at Sasha, whispering things they shouldn’t. His jaw tightened.

"Yeah," he murmured. "You might be right."

One of the men nearby whistled under his breath. Alvaro’s fork hit the table with a metallic clang.

"Eat your food," he said, voice cold enough to freeze a river. The man looked away instantly.

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "Protective much?"

"Instinct," he said, still glaring at anyone who looked their way.

"Then it’s settled," Sasha said, standing up with a triumphant smirk. "I’ll request to be assigned to the raids with you."

He looked up at her, amused and exasperated. "You’re not serious."

"Oh, I’m deadly serious." She leaned in and whispered near his ear, "Besides... you’ll need someone to save you when you mess up."

He turned, grinning. "You really can’t stay away from me, can you?"

Sasha gave him a look that could kill. "Don’t flatter yourself. I just don’t like you going out there alone."

Alvaro smiled as she walked away — his heart full.

====

The smell of roasted meat and butter filled the command hall, thick enough to make even the walls greasy.

Cloud stood there — arms crossed, jaw tight — staring at the extravagant spread before him.

Across the long table, Governor Gan was eating like a king in a dying world. His fork clanged against the porcelain as he shoveled eggs, sausages, and honeyed bread into his mouth with no shame whatsoever. Oil glistened on his chin.

Cloud’s voice was low but sharp. "Governor, how many times must I remind you — we should live modestly. Every supply, every grain of rice, every drop of oil is precious."

Gan, a mountain of a man with a gut that spoke of indulgence, only laughed — a loud, wheezing sound that grated on Cloud’s ears. "Commander, what use is farming and risking our necks outside if we can’t even enjoy what we get, eh? We’re working for survival and comfort. Otherwise, what’s the point?"

Cloud’s face darkened further. "Everyone else is rationing. People are starving while you’re feasting like it’s a banquet."

Gan dabbed his mouth with a silk napkin — a luxury no one else in the Bastion had. "Come now, Commander. I’ve given these people protection and shelter. The least they can do is work for me. I don’t even ask for taxes — just labor. Fair trade, don’t you think?"

Cloud’s hands clenched at his sides. "You’re not running a kingdom, governor. You’re clinging to what’s left of the old world."

Gan’s eyes narrowed, sharp despite his bloated face. "And yet, without someone like me, this place would collapse. People need order — a leader. You soldiers only know how to fight. I know how to control and ran this place."

The air between them went cold. Cloud’s glare could’ve cut through steel, but he held his tongue. Gan was disgusting, but he wasn’t wrong — chaos was worse than corruption.

Gan smirked, clearly savoring the silence. "By the way, I heard we’ve got new recruits?"

Sasha’s face flickered in Cloud’s mind — sharp eyes, calm voice, the faint smell of rain that seemed to follow her. "Yes," he said curtly.

"I told you not to let in any more strays," Gan grumbled. "What if they’re infected? More mouths to feed, more problems."

"They’re clean," Cloud replied. "And they brought an armored van, fuel, and supplies. They’ve already paid their dues to enter here."

Gan wiped his greasy lips again. "Supplies don’t last forever."

"Neither does manpower," Cloud shot back. "They’ve both been assigned to the raids. We need every able body."

"Good," Gan said, waving a fork dismissively. "But no more outsiders. The Bastion’s full. If we need more raiders, pull them from the cleaning or farming teams. The women can do more than just wash clothes and pick tomatoes. There are too many of them doing too little."

Cloud’s teeth ground together. He wanted to slam his fist into the table, to wipe that smug smile off Gan’s face. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Gan, for all his uselessness, kept the people calm. They saw him as a symbol — not of power, but of familiarity. And right now, that illusion was worth more than any bullet.

Cloud exhaled slowly and left before he did something he’d regret.

Outside, the wind carried the distant sounds of hammers, shouts, and the dull thump of a gate closing. His second-in-command, Fren, nearly jumped when he saw him.

"Commander! Everything all right?"

"Have my gear ready," Cloud said, already heading toward the armory.

Fren blinked. "What? You’re joining the raid yourself?"

Cloud stopped only long enough to glance at him. "I need to clear my head. Staying here will just make me punch the Governor."

Fren frowned. "But if something happens to you—"

"We’re not going far," Cloud cut in, already tightening his gloves. "Besides, I could use the exercise."

Fren sighed and scratched his head. That look on Cloud’s face — that sharp, dangerous calm — meant only one thing: the Commander had made up his mind.

No one could stop him now.

As Cloud walked off, the soldiers straightened instinctively, whispering behind his back.

"Commander’s coming with us?"

"Damn, maybe we’ll survive this one."

Cloud ignored them. His mind was elsewhere — on the girl who’d arrived yesterday, eyes like a storm, smile too calm for this world.

If she was joining the raids today...

He might just see what kind of storm she really was.