The Unknown

The door rattled under the infected's relentless assault, but for now, it held. The sound of their claws scraping against metal was distant, but it was a reminder of how thin the line was between safety and chaos.

Lecroix stood by the door, his tall frame illuminated in the dim light. Every movement he made was deliberate, as if he was always calculating—always in control. It was unsettling, but somehow, I found it hard to look away from him.

Zeke sat cross-legged on the floor, his tablet in hand, tapping furiously as if breaking through encrypted files could keep his thoughts from spiraling. His jaw was tight, and the occasional glance he shot at Lecroix was heavy with distrust. My brother—the one person I could always count on—was now silently battling the fear that Lecroix was pulling me in a direction he didn't trust.

Apollo lingered near the far wall, arms folded, his protective gaze flickering toward me every few moments. He didn't like Lecroix, but there was more than just caution in his expression—it was jealousy, tinged with frustration.

"You should rest," Lecroix said softly, his green eyes finding mine. His voice was low, calming, and for a moment, I forgot how dangerous our situation really was.

"I'll rest when the world stops falling apart," I muttered, trying to mask the way his presence made my pulse quicken.

Lecroix gave a slight smile, as if he could see right through me. "Fair enough."

Zeke cleared his throat, breaking the charged moment between Lecroix and me. "What exactly are you planning?" he asked, his voice edged with suspicion. "And why do you care so much about Liberty?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Zeke—"

"No." His eyes narrowed as he locked onto Lecroix. "I want answers."

Lecroix met his gaze, his expression calm, but beneath it, there was a flicker of understanding. "She matters," he said simply. "Not just to the infection. To me."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a loaded gun. Zeke's knuckles turned white around the tablet in his lap.

"Don't get any ideas," Zeke said, his voice low, dangerous. "She's not just some experiment or a mission for you."

Lecroix didn't flinch. "I know that."

Something shifted in the air between them—two men fighting over the same thing but in completely different ways. Zeke, protective and wary, and Lecroix, calm and steady, like he was playing the long game.

"Enough," I said, the tension unbearable. "We don't have time for this."

Zeke's gaze softened slightly, but his expression remained guarded. "I'm just saying... Be careful, Lib. We've lost too much already."

His words hit harder than I expected, pulling at old wounds. I gave him a small nod, hoping it would ease the weight between us, even though I knew it wouldn't.

Later, when the others settled into uneasy rest, Lecroix and I lingered at the edge of the room, close to the door but far enough to give us a moment of privacy. The faint hum of Zeke's tablet and the steady rhythm of Apollo's breathing filled the silence.

Lecroix leaned against the wall, his gaze focused on me. "You've been carrying this alone for too long," he said quietly. "You don't have to anymore."

His words were soft, but they cut deep. I wanted to believe him—wanted to let him share the burden—but there was a part of me that was still afraid.

"And what if I'm the problem?" I whispered. "What if I'm what makes it worse?"

Lecroix stepped closer, his presence warm and steady. "You're not," he said, his voice firm. "You're the only one who can stop it."

I looked up at him, the distance between us shrinking. For a moment, the world outside—the infected, the government, the mission—faded into the background. It was just us, standing in the dim light, sharing the same fear, the same uncertainty.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine. It was a small gesture, but it sent a jolt through me, grounding me in the moment. His touch was steady, deliberate—like everything he did—and yet there was something unguarded about it.

"I'm not afraid of what you are, Liberty," he whispered, his voice low and filled with something more than just reassurance. "And neither should you be."

I let my hand linger in his for a moment longer, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. The walls I had built so carefully around myself began to crack, just a little.

The moment between us ended as quickly as it began, interrupted by Zeke's sharp voice. "We need to move."

He was already on his feet, his tablet glowing with new information. "There's a direct route through the tunnels to the underground facility. It's risky, but it'll get us there faster."

Apollo shot Lecroix a wary glance. "And what happens when we get there?"

Lecroix straightened, his expression unreadable. "We stop Phase Two. One way or another."

"And if we don't?" Zeke's tone was clipped, distrust simmering just beneath the surface.

Lecroix looked at me, and for a moment, I felt the weight of the decision settle squarely on my shoulders. "Then we lose everything."

The words hit harder than I expected, and I knew there was no turning back. Whatever came next, it was bigger than all of us. But as Lecroix's gaze held mine, steady and certain, I felt a flicker of something I hadn't allowed myself to feel in a long time—hope.

We moved toward the tunnel entrance, the air thick with anticipation. Zeke kept his distance from Lecroix, but his protective presence hovered around me like a shadow. Apollo's jaw was tight, his gaze flickering toward Lecroix with every step.

And me? My heart was racing, not just from the fear of what lay ahead, but from the warmth of Lecroix's hand still lingering in my thoughts.

As we slipped into the darkness, Lecroix's voice whispered close to my ear.

"No matter what happens, I've got you."

And in that moment, I knew—I wasn't just fighting the infection. I was fighting for something more.

But the infected were evolving. And the real fight was only just beginning.