kennedydaphne900

Rexan Meadows isn’t your average high school senior. With a sharp tongue, an obsession with zombie theories, and a knack for surviving the social minefield of Royal High, she’s always lived with one foot in her own weird world. But when her fascination with the undead takes a horrifyingly real turn, Rexan finds herself kidnapped, experimented on, and transformed into something... more.

Now a superior being at the heart of a zombie apocalypse, Rexan leads an army of the undead in a battle for survival. But when she’s captured, again, by the relentless Commander Ken Fury, the stakes are raised. Ken, a hardened soldier, is determined to destroy her and every zombie she’s created. Rexan, however, is equally determined to end humanity’s reign.

But as the lines blur between enemies and allies, passion ignites where hatred once burned. In a world ravaged by chaos and betrayal, can a soldier fall for the monster he’s sworn to kill? And can Rexan trust a human with her heart while plotting the downfall of their species?

Survival, love, and war collide in The Passion of the Undead, where nothing is as simple as black and white and the living and the dead must face the ultimate truth: they might need each other to survive.

THE PASSION OF THE UNDEAD

A hand tore through the dirt, clawing its way to the surface.

The grave split open as fingers curled into the fresh earth, pushing against the weight of death itself.

Sunlight struck decayed skin, and the air, thick with the scent of damp soil and rotting flesh, filled desperate lungs.

Reg's head broke through the grave, gasping as if reborn into a world that had already left him behind. His teeth clenched, a growl ripping from his throat.

"Fucking bitch," he spat, shaking off clumps of dirt from his tangled hair.

Before he could rise, the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his skull.

A deep, unyielding voice cut through the tense air.

Standing over him, clad in full military gear, was Ken Fury.

His black tactical vest clung to his broad chest, strapped with spare magazines, grenades, and combat knives.

His sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms wrapped in reinforced gloves, veins pulsing with barely restrained violence.

Thick combat boots, worn from countless battles, dug into the earth as he loomed over the grave like a reaper made flesh.

A large rifle rested in his grip, an advanced semi-automatic assault weapon, sleek and deadly, with a holographic sight gleaming under the sun.

The weapon was built for precision, built for war. And it was aimed directly at Reg's skull.

Ken's face remained emotionless beneath the streaks of dirt and blood smeared across his jaw. His dark eyes held no warmth, only a silent promise of death.

"Answer my questions, and I'll make this swift," he said, his voice void of humor, of patience, of mercy.

Reg swallowed, his throat dry. "Will you let me go?" he squeaked.

Ken's jaw ticked, his grip tightening on the rifle.

"You've been going around killing soldiers," he stated, voice flat, factual, like reading off a kill list. "What were your plans when you found their queen that led to your serial killings?"

Reg snarled, spitting at Ken's boot. "Why should I tell you anything, you cunt? She's gonna kill you with just one hit!"

Ken didn't react. No anger, no amusement. Just the measured stillness of a predator waiting for its prey to make a fatal mistake.

"So you found her," he murmured, tilting his head slightly.

Reg's body tensed. He realized his mistake too late.

Ken's lips barely twitched. "I guess you'll be useful alive."

The second Reg lunged from the grave, hands outstretched to grab him, Ken moved.

The shot tore through Reg's knee before he could even take a full step, sending him crashing back to the ground with a scream.

Blood seeped into the dirt, dark and thick. His leg twitched, useless now. That limb was officially gone.

Ken rolled his shoulders, adjusting his grip on the rifle. "I don't have time to play rogue soldier."

Before Reg could even attempt to crawl away, Ken reached down, gripping his collar with one hand, and yanked him up like he weighed nothing.

Reg gasped, struggling against the iron grip. Ken barely looked at him.

With effortless strength, he hauled Reg toward the vehicle.

The forest stretched around them, dense and ancient, the towering trees whispering secrets through the wind.

The air smelled of damp moss, pine, and blood. A soft mist curled around the trunks, clinging to the shadows between the undergrowth.

The distant calls of crows echoed through the canopy, a death song carried by the wind.

Reg twisted, thrashing like a trapped animal, but Ken remained unmoved.

With one powerful motion, he flung him into the trunk of the car. The metal groaned under the weight as Reg landed hard, coughing.

Ken exhaled, stepping back as the forest fell into silence once more. The wind rustled through the leaves, whispering in the aftermath of violence.

He turned toward the driver's seat, gripping the wheel.

KEN: CHAPTER 21