TRUST

Chapter two:TRUST

---

Luca returned from his walk, stepping into the dimly lit room. His gaze landed on the unconscious girl.

A flicker of movement.

Before he could react, her eyes snapped open—wild, desperate. In an instant, a knife was at his throat.

Her hands trembled, but her grip was firm. Her expression was a storm—fear, rage, sorrow, and sheer survival instinct twisted together into something almost feral. Her chest rose and fell in rapid bursts, eyes darting, taking in her surroundings.

Luca blinked, staring at her—then at the blade pressed against his skin.

Then he looked back into her eyes.

There it was.

Bloodlust.

And he absolutely loved it.

"Why'd you stop?" he murmured, voice almost amused.

The girl's expression twisted. "Who the hell are you? Where am I?! ANSWER ME!"

Luca leaned back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him, and lazily tossed a bottle of water in her direction.

"H2O is really good for you, y'know? Yummy, yummy." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

The girl's grip on the knife tightened. Her expression was a mix of rage, fear, and sheer desperation. But thirst won. Starvation won. Without taking her eyes off him, she snatched the bottle and drank with a hunger that made it clear she hadn't had water in a long time.

Luca took the chance to check her out.

She was older than him, maybe twenty. Short blonde hair, messy and tangled like she'd been dragged through hell. Despite her frail form, her features still held an eerie elegance—sharp eyes, hollowed cheeks, skin too pale from malnutrition. The wedding dress she wore was a tattered mess—once white, now dirtied, ripped, and stained with dried blood. The fabric clung to her thin frame like a cruel joke.

She finished drinking, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and glared at him. Her eyes hadn't changed—still sharp, still filled with a burning hatred. The knife was still in her grip.

"Tell me who you are... Where am I? And where's the fat witch?"

Luca blinked. Then—

PFFT.

A sudden burst of laughter escaped him, genuine and amused. "Unlockable vocabulary DLC? HAHAHA! Why not just say bitch instead?" He smirked. "No, I don't know what you speak of."

Lie.

The memory played in his mind.

An old woman. Wrinkled beyond belief, like she'd been cursed to decay but never die. Her face was a mess of sagging skin, heavily caked makeup barely covering the cracks of age. Fat, overdressed, and reeking of money—pearls around her neck, rings on every finger, and a fur coat that looked more expensive than the entire damn street.

She was staring at him.

Not in fear. Not in anger.

In amusement.

Even as he took the car and drove off, she just stood there, watching.

Luca let the memory fade.

Before he could react, the girl made a break for it.

She dashed toward the door—only to slam into it uselessly. Locked.

Luca remained where he was, watching like he was observing some slow-motion car crash.

"Where do you think you're goi—"

"BACK OFF!" she snapped, her voice raw and desperate.

Her body trembled, her breath coming in short gasps. Starved. Weak. She was running on pure adrenaline, but even that wouldn't last.

Luca raised an eyebrow. Then sighed.

---

Somewhere Else.

The battlefield was a nightmare.

Tanks fired relentlessly, explosions lighting up the ruined cityscape, but the monsters tore through the fire like it was nothing. Helicopters rained down missiles, the shockwaves rattling the sky—but for every beast that fell, a dozen more took its place.

The creatures were a grotesque fusion of nightmares.

The lizard things had returned—twisted, scaled abominations with jagged teeth that could crush a man in half. Their eyes burned with primal hunger, their bodies armored like living tanks, shrugging off bullets and shrapnel as if they were raindrops.

And then there were the new ones.

Massive, multi-limbed horrors, their flesh stitched together like experiments gone wrong. Some had too many eyes, others had none. There were beasts with exposed ribs that housed writhing, tentacle-like tongues, dragging soldiers into their gaping maws. Some ran on all fours with elongated, human-like faces twisted into permanent screams. Others crawled—silent, patient—before leaping with unnatural speed, shredding men apart in a blur of claws and teeth.

"SIR! WE NEED MORE SUPP—AUGHHHH!"

A soldier's scream was cut short as something yanked him into the abyss of a waiting mouth. His body disappeared with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed. His rifle clattered to the ground.

Amidst the slaughter, behind the army of monsters, a lone figure stood untouched.

A man.

Regal. Poised. Dressed in noble finery that did not belong in the chaos of war. A long, high-collared coat draped over his frame, his polished boots unmarred by the blood-soaked battlefield. His smirk was sharp, almost amused, as he watched the carnage unfold before him.

His eyes burned with a deep, unnatural purple.

He did nothing. He didn't have to.

This massacre was unfolding exactly as he desired.

---

Inside one of the helicopters, chaos of a different kind raged.

A high-ranking military officer, bloodied and battered, thrashed violently against the hands trying to hold him down. His wounds were fresh, his uniform soaked in sweat and crimson.

"LET ME GO, DAMN IT!" He roared, veins bulging in his neck. "I CAN STILL—!"

His men struggled to restrain him. "SIR, STOP! YOU'RE INJURED—WE NEED TO—"

He wasn't listening. He couldn't. The battlefield outside was burning, and all he could do was sit here, powerless, as his soldiers—his people—were devoured.

Beside him, huddled in the corner, was a girl.

Silent.

Shaking.

Tears streamed down her dirt-streaked face, but she made no sound. She clutched her knees to her chest, her entire body trembling with the kind of grief that had hollowed her from the inside out.

Outside, the war was already lost.

And behind it all, the man with the glowing purple eyes continued to smile.

.

---

Cut back to Luca.

"So, Kassandra. You understand now?"

Luca's voice was light, almost bored, as he flipped a butterfly knife between his fingers. The blade glinted under the dim lighting, spinning effortlessly before locking back into his grip.

Across from him, Kassandra sat on the floor, wolfing down food like an animal that hadn't eaten in days. Which, to be fair, she probably hadn't. She shoved another handful into her mouth, chewing aggressively, barely stopping to breathe.

She swallowed hard—almost choking—before gulping down more water.

"Zombies… Monsters… And two of the world's superpowers—America and Russia—just wiped off the map?" Her voice was flat, cold, laced with sarcasm. She snorted. "Yeah, of course I believe you."

Luca smirked. With her mouth full, her snark had a certain charm to it. Almost adorable.

"You hear that noise behind the metal door?" he said casually, nodding toward the thick steel slab bolted shut in the corner of the room. A faint, wet groaning could be heard from behind it.

Kassandra's chewing slowed.

Luca leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Those aren't old people having sex." His smirk widened, but something in his eyes flickered. Something hollow. Something that had seen too much. "Believe me, I know what that sounds like."

He took a slow breath, dragging a hand through his dark hair. "Those moans? Those are the things I'm talking about."

Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the door.

She yanked away immediately, standing up on her own. Luca let her go without a fight, watching as she stepped forward hesitantly, inching toward the small reinforced window.

She looked.

And immediately fell back with a thud.

Her breath hitched, her body trembling. "H—h… how? Why?"

She scrambled backward. "I'm leaving. Fuck this!"

Luca rolled his eyes, sitting back down and returning to his meal. "Ah yes. Genius," he drawled. "You're in a foreign country, surrounded by zombies, monsters, and lunatics. You don't know the streets, you don't have weapons, and—" he gestured lazily toward her starved frame, "—you can barely stand without falling over."

He bit into his food, chewing slowly. "Go ahead and die if you want. It's a free world. Well—" he chuckled darkly, "was a free world."

Kassandra gritted her teeth, fists clenching.

Luca didn't look at her, but the corner of his lips curled just slightly. A smirk. Subtle. Calculated.

"I must keep this one."

His fingers tapped against the table.

"She's going to be useful."

He stole a glance at her, his deep, amused gaze meeting her burning, terrified one.

"Broken people are loyal when fixed."

And those eyes…

He had seen many, many things in his life.

But her eyes?

Her eyes were special.

---

Kassandra sat back down, her body tense, her mind a mess of emotions—fear, confusion… and something else.

Something unnerving.

She stared at the floor, barely registering her own breathing. The room felt colder. Smaller.

"Luca… Luca…" Her voice was quiet at first, but when he didn't respond, her frustration flared. "Hey! I'M TALKING TO Y—"

She stopped.

Her breath caught in her throat as something horrifying hit her all at once.

"Talking to you…? How am I talking?"

Her hands trembled as she slowly looked down at herself.

The blood was still there.

Dark, dried stains painted the tattered wedding dress, clinging to the fabric like a cruel reminder.

And then—

She remembered.

The truck.

The exhaustion. The despair. The sickening weight of knowing there was no escape.

She had made a choice.

A way out.

She bit down hard. Hard enough to sever her own tongue. Hard enough to choke on her own blood. Hard enough that death came fast, merciful even.

But now—

Now she was here.

Alive.

Speaking.

Like it never even happened. And she just stared at the wall.