The Truth... Finally

The moon hung low and pale in the sky, as if struggling to pierce the veil of thick clouds draped across the horizon. Even the torch fires, normally bright sentinels against the darkness, seemed subdued tonight, their flames shivering in the crisp wind that rattled the compound's ramparts. It had been a long day—an exhausting dance of interrogations, supply audits, and mediating tensions between Tamsin's faction and Harriet's new arrivals. For Leila, it was beginning to feel like a Sisyphean task: the more she attempted to secure the settlement, the more new fractures seemed to appear.

She walked the northern walkway, her boots a whisper against the weathered planks, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The farmland beyond the walls lay steeped in dusky gloom, watchtowers ringing its edges like silent guardians. She paused by one of the taller vantage points, scanning the outline of the orchard, the fields. The hush out there, the intangible sense of something waiting—it set her teeth on edge.

Tamsin had demanded full lockdown again only hours before, citing the ongoing thefts and her unrelenting fear that Harriet's group was to blame, or worse—secret agents of Jace. Leila had soothed the worst of Tamsin's paranoia with forced composure, but the cost was high. How much more suspicion can we endure before we break?

She leaned against the wooden railing, letting the tension seep from her shoulders, if only for a moment. Her eyes slid shut, conjuring images she'd spent days trying to bury: Jace's cunning gaze, Ellie's calculating smile, Harriet's haunted expression, Tamsin's permanent scowl of distrust. A swirl of faces and fears that wouldn't let her rest.

She almost missed the soft scrape of boots on the planks behind her. One of the watchers, perhaps? She opened her eyes and glanced back. Not a watcher. It was Kai, his figure half-lit by a torch perched on a nearby post. He stepped into the circle of faint light, brows drawn with that quiet determination he wore whenever he decided something needed addressing, no matter how uncomfortable.

"Leila," he said, just loud enough to be heard over the low sigh of the wind. "We need to talk."

The words made her stomach tighten. Lately, every conversation that began with we need to talk ended in another wave of frustrations. She blew out a breath, pushing away from the railing. Her voice came out weary, laced with a hint of resignation. "Is something wrong? Another theft? Did Tamsin find more 'proof' Harriet's group is conspiring with Jace?"

He shook his head, crossing his arms as he regarded her with unmasked concern. "No. This is about you."

She frowned. "Me?"

He nodded, stepping closer. The torchlight painted flickering shadows across his face, revealing honesty and worry mingled in the lines of his expression. "Yes, you. I've seen how hard you're fighting to keep this place together, how you're juggling Tamsin's paranoia, Harriet's uncertain loyalty, and the possibility of Jace's infiltration—and it's wearing you down. But I also see something deeper."

Leila's jaw tightened, a reflexive barrier rising. "I'm fine," she repeated, though her voice lacked conviction.

"Leila, please," he said more softly. "I'm not here to push or pry. But you told me bits and pieces once… about Jace, about how he almost got you killed. Or how you died. You never fully explained." His brow furrowed with concern. "I can see the weight of it in your eyes, every time someone mentions him."

She tried to look away, scanning the farmland again as if it might offer an escape from the conversation. But her heart thudded heavily, a drumbeat of old trauma. "I said enough, didn't I? Jace betrayed me. That's it."

Kai exhaled, not in exasperation but in quiet empathy. "No, that's not it. You said he left you for dead, that you practically died—but I've overheard hints it was more literal. Tamsin's remarks, Harriet's group asking about your past. It's like there's a final layer you haven't shared."

His words struck her like a blow to the chest. She felt a tremor in her hands, quickly clasping them behind her back to hide the telltale sign of her internal quake. He's so perceptive. Why can't he just let this be?

She swallowed hard, voice rasping. "I… I died, Kai."

Silence settled between them, thick and foreboding. He didn't hurry her, didn't fill the space with half-baked assurances. Instead, he just waited, close enough that she could feel his warmth, far enough that she could retreat if she needed.

She drew a breath, recalling the day that felt like a thousand knives inside her. "Jace and Ellie… we had a safehouse at the start of the apocalypse. We were a team, or so I believed. He said we'd be safe if we gave up some control, let him handle negotiations with other groups. I was young, and I—I was in love with him." The last phrase came out bitter, a confession of heartbreak. "Ellie was my best friend, practically a sister. I'd have done anything for them."

She paused, eyes glistening. "But they lured me into a corridor full of the undead. Locked me in. I screamed for them, but they never came back, never opened the door. The zombies ripped into me, and I… I felt my life end, literally. The pain, the darkness… it was final."

Kai's fist clenched at his side, though he remained quiet, letting her words come unbroken.

Leila's voice cracked, tears pricking her eyes. "Only, it wasn't final. Because somehow—some unimaginable cosmic glitch or second chance—I woke up in my old apartment, months before the outbreak even started. No injuries, no apocalypse yet. Everyone else was living their normal lives. But I remembered everything. I remembered dying."

Her throat tightened as tears slipped down her cheeks. "I started preparing, stockpiling supplies. I told no one about the future I'd seen. People would've called me insane. But that's why I was ready when the outbreak hit. That's why I know so much about Jace's cunning. He killed me once, Kai. And he'll do it again if he gets the chance."

A sob rose in her chest, and she fought it, trembling. Memories of that final corridor, the undead's shrieks, the agony of teeth tearing flesh—it lived inside her, a torment she couldn't escape no matter how many times she told herself this timeline was different.

"I'm sorry," she managed in a broken whisper. "I never told anyone the full truth. Not Fiona, not Tamsin. They'd think I lost my mind if I said I traveled back in time. But you—you insisted. I— I needed you to know why I can't fully trust, can't just let go of the fear that I'll be betrayed again."