One Less

We stumbled into an old, crumbling office building, its shattered windows blocked with debris, as the early morning sky dimmed into gray. The city outside was eerily quiet—too quiet, as if the world were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Apollo grunted as Lecroix and I lowered him onto a dusty couch, his face pale and slick with sweat. Blood soaked the bandage around his leg, and I could feel the sharp sting of dread creeping into my mind. Something wasn't right.

"We'll rest here," Lecroix murmured, his eyes scanning the room. "Just for a few hours. Then we move."

Apollo grimaced but forced a grin. "I'm fine, really. Just need to catch my breath."

I exchanged a glance with Zeke, who looked just as unconvinced as I felt.

Lecroix leaned closer to Apollo, tightening the bandage around his leg. "We can't risk infection. You need to tell us if anything feels off."

Apollo waved him off, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. "I'll live."

Zeke knelt beside me, his voice low. "Something's off with him, Lib."

"I know," I whispered, my gaze lingering on Apollo's pale face. But for now, I couldn't push him—not without risking more tension in an already fragile group.

We worked in silence, securing the doors and windows as best we could with what little was left of the building. Dust motes floated in the air, illuminated by slivers of weak sunlight slipping through the cracks. The cold gnawed at my skin, but I pulled Lecroix's jacket tighter around my shoulders, feeling the lingering warmth from where he'd worn it earlier.

Lecroix stood beside me, his presence steady. "We're safe, for now," he murmured.

"Safe," I echoed, though the word felt foreign in my mouth. Safety was a luxury we couldn't afford. Not anymore.

Later, as we settled in, Lecroix knelt beside me, his touch light as he adjusted Apollo's bandages again.

"You're always so steady," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

Lecroix smiled, the kind that was more in his eyes than on his lips. "You make it easier than you think."

The quiet weight of his words settled between us, and for a moment, the chaos outside felt distant.

"You've been strong through all of this," he said softly. "Even when you didn't have to be."

I looked at him, feeling the full meaning behind his words. He saw me—the real me—and it made my heart ache in a way I couldn't explain.

"Thanks," I whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear, though my hands trembled slightly.

Lecroix reached out, his fingers brushing mine briefly—a fleeting touch that felt more intimate than anything else could have in that moment. We didn't need words. We just needed this.

The night deepened, and the others drifted into restless sleep. The only sound was the faint wind outside, whistling through the cracks in the walls. I couldn't sleep, though. Something gnawed at me—something about Apollo.

I sat up, wrapping Lecroix's jacket tighter around me as I glanced toward Apollo. He was awake, his hand pressed to his side, his expression tight with pain. In the dim light, I saw him pull back his sleeve just slightly, revealing a small, jagged wound—a bite or scratch mark, red and swollen.

My heart stuttered in my chest. He'd been bitten.

"Apollo," I whispered, my voice sharp but low.

He froze, his hand quickly covering the wound. "It's nothing," he whispered back, forcing a smile that was far too thin to be convincing.

I crawled closer. "It's not nothing. How long have you been hiding this?"

"Lib, it's fine," he insisted, his voice brittle. "It's just a scratch. It'll be fine."

"No," I said quietly, my hands trembling with anger and fear. "You know what that means."

Apollo's face twisted with something between frustration and fear. "I can handle this," he whispered, glancing toward the others to make sure they hadn't heard. "Please, don't tell them. Not yet."

I stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a stone. If he turned, it wouldn't just be him that we'd lose. It would be all of us.

"You can't hide this," I whispered fiercely, my voice cracking. "If it gets worse—"

"It won't," he interrupted, the desperation clear in his voice. "I'll be fine. Just give me some time."

Time. That was the one thing we didn't have.

The next morning, as pale sunlight filtered through the cracked windows, Apollo stumbled as we prepared to leave. Lecroix caught him before he hit the ground, his face shadowed with concern.

"What's going on, Apollo?" Lecroix asked quietly, though there was no judgment in his voice. Just worry.

"I said I'm fine," Apollo muttered, forcing himself to stand, though his legs wobbled beneath him. "Just... give me a second."

Zeke shot me a glance, suspicion flickering in his eyes. He could sense that something wasn't right—just like I could.

I looked at Lecroix, my stomach twisting with uncertainty. If Apollo was infected, we were all in danger. But if we abandoned him now, what would that make us?