Chapter 03
The war council chamber felt like a graveyard. Thick shadows clung to the corners, and the faint smell of blood and scorched metal lingered in the air. Ronan sat at the head of the long, battle-scarred table, his massive frame tense with restrained energy. Soldiers and advisors filled the room, their voices low as they debated strategies.
Lila stood just inside the doorway, her presence an unspoken challenge to the room. She wasn’t one of them—an outsider, unmarked by their shared history and battles—but she refused to be ignored.
“They’ll hit the eastern barricade again,” one of the advisors said, a grizzled man with a gleaming mechanical arm. “It’s the weakest point.”
Ronan’s gaze was sharp. “That’s what they want us to think. Izael knows we’ll reinforce it. He’ll send a decoy while his real forces attack the northern gate.”
Lila frowned, stepping forward. “What about the supply caches?”
The room fell silent as every head turned toward her.
Ronan arched an eyebrow, a flicker of interest crossing his face. “Explain.”
She crossed her arms, refusing to be intimidated. “If Izael’s forces are regrouping this quickly, they’ll need supplies—food, weapons, energy cells. If we cut off his resources, we cripple his ability to fight.”
The grizzled advisor scowled. “She doesn’t know our enemy. Izael won’t be stopped by hunger.”
“No,” Ronan said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “But desperation makes even the strongest army vulnerable. She’s right.”
A small spark of satisfaction warmed Lila as the room reluctantly shifted focus to her idea.
Over the next hour, Lila worked side by side with Ronan, sketching out supply routes and pinpointing weak spots in Izael’s network. His soldiers, initially wary of her involvement, began to listen, their grudging respect growing with each of her suggestions.
As the meeting wound down, Ronan dismissed the others, leaving Lila alone with him in the now-silent chamber.
“You handled yourself well,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m used to being underestimated. Comes with the territory.”
He studied her for a moment, his silver eyes thoughtful. “They’ll follow you, you know.”
Her brow furrowed. “They follow you.”
“They follow strength,” he corrected. “And you’ve shown them plenty of that today.”
The quiet admiration in his tone sent a flutter through her chest, but she quickly squashed it. “Well, let’s hope they keep listening. Otherwise, we’re all screwed.”
Ronan chuckled, a low, warm sound that was as unexpected as it was disarming.
Miles away, in the heart of a ruined city, Izael stood before his gathered forces. The flickering light of a dying star painted the jagged skyline in shades of crimson and ash.
“Weak,” he spat, pacing before his soldiers. “Ronan hides behind his decaying palace and his fragile little human. He thinks he can hold this world with scraps of honor and fading strength.”
His eyes—one organic, the other a glowing orb of cybernetic enhancement—swept over the crowd. “But we know better, don’t we? We know what it takes to survive in this wasteland.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the soldiers.
“Ronan clings to the past,” Izael continued, his voice rising. “To the idea that we can rebuild. But I say it’s time to burn the old world to the ground. Only then can we create something new—something pure.”
He raised a clenched fist, his mechanical arm whirring with the motion. “Tonight, we strike where it hurts. We’ll tear down his walls, take his supplies, and show him that his kingdom is nothing but a grave.”
The soldiers roared their approval, their voices echoing through the ruins like thunder.
Back at the palace, Ronan and Lila stood in a high tower overlooking the city. The glow of distant fires marked the skirmishes at the barricades, while Ronan’s forces moved silently through the streets below, positioning themselves for the counterattack.
“Are you sure about this?” Lila asked, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
Ronan stood beside her, his hands resting on the stone railing. “No. But it’s our best shot.”
She turned to him, studying the hard lines of his face. The flickering light accentuated his sharp cheekbones, the scars that crisscrossed his jaw, and the faint glow of energy beneath his skin.
“You should get some rest,” he said, his voice softer now. “Tomorrow will be brutal.”
“Rest?” She snorted. “Right. I’ll get right on that.”
He smirked, a rare expression that made her stomach flip. “Stubborn as ever.”
“Look who’s talking,” she shot back, but her smile faltered when she noticed the tension in his shoulders.
For all his strength, he looked tired. Worn.
“Ronan,” she said quietly.
He turned, and for a moment, the weight of everything—the battle, the kingdom, the bond between them—hung heavy in the air.
“I don’t regret marking you,” he said suddenly, his silver eyes locking onto hers. “But I didn’t do it lightly.”
Her breath caught. “Why did you do it?”
“Because I couldn’t let them take you,” he said simply. “Not you.”
The raw intensity of his words sent a shiver down her spine.
The tension between them crackled like electricity. Lila didn’t know who moved first—if it was her stepping closer or Ronan reaching out—but suddenly, they were inches apart.
“You’re impossible,” he murmured, his voice a mix of exasperation and something deeper.
“And you’re infuriating,” she replied, her heart pounding as his hand brushed her cheek.
His touch was warm, despite the cool metal of his implants, and she leaned into it without thinking.
“Lila,” he said, her name like a prayer on his lips.
Her response was to close the distance between them, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was as desperate as it was consuming. His hands found her waist, pulling her against him, and she gasped at the heat of his body, the strength in his arms.
He kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, and for a moment, she let herself believe it.
But then the sound of distant explosions shattered the moment.
Ronan pulled back, his breathing ragged. “They’ve started.”
Lila nodded, her mind already shifting to the battle ahead. But as they turned to leave, she couldn’t help but glance at him, her heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the fight.
She wasn’t sure what scared her more—the war, or the way she was beginning to feel about the Zombie King.