My eyelids cracked open like they were made of concrete.
And then everything hit me at once.
A thousand needles fired under my skin.
My ribs throbbed—brittle, like someone had played soccer with them.
I never had a mirror, but my face was hot and burning. I could tell it was swollen. Every breath scraped my throat raw.
I tasted my lips to feel blood and…wait, what the fuck?
I tried to move.
Couldn't.
Rope bit into my wrists and ankles—tight enough to numb everything past my elbows. My body felt wrong. Tilted. Heavy. Cold.
Darkness swallowed most of the room, but I made out the jagged outline of steel beams, stacked crates, a single flickering bulb.
A warehouse.
It was always a fucking warehouse. Great, I was gonna be tortured to death.
Before I could get my thoughts straight, footsteps approached—slow, deliberate.
A gloved hand fisted my hair and yanked my head up. Pain shot white behind my eyes as I stared into a blank, black mask.
"Look. He's awake."
Their voice was flat, distorted by the filter—
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF HIM!"
Another voice exploded through the dark.
Familiar.
Violent.
Holy shit. Was that Lila?
My heart jolted.
I turned as much as the grip in my hair allowed—and there she was. Tied down like me. Arms pulled behind the chair. Legs bound. Chest heaving like she was about to burst.
It had only been probably a few hours, and she had already changed. Hot, ragged breaths escaped her mouth as she looked at the masked individual.
My eyes widened.
Her corneas. They were red and full of ferocity like a wounded predator. Not the cold kind— no. She looked like a fucking animal.
I was scared.
"I SWEAR TO GOD—TOUCH HIM AGAIN AND I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING THROAT OUT!"
She thrashed against the restraints, metal scraping. Her muscles flexed so hard I thought something might snap—hers or the chair's.
The masked figure holding me actually flinched. Backed up a step, like she was radioactive.
Like even tied down, Lila was the more dangerous one in the room.
She yanked again—harder—ropes creaking, chair legs dragging on concrete.
Another masked guard cursed under their breath.
Lila bared her teeth, eyes locked on me, wild and terrified and furious all at once.
"Adrian," she snapped, voice cracking.
"I'm gonna get you out of this. I swear to God. I'm gonna kill all of them. I'm gonna—"
ZAP. BZZZZ.
"That's enough out of you, lady."
The light above flickered as Lila's body jerked violently in her restraints.
I froze, heart slamming into my ribs.
The masked individual held a shock device—some kind of metal rod with glowing orange prongs. It pulsed in their hand like a live wire. Sparks danced along its edges, small arcs of electricity hissing into the air. The smell hit me first—ozone, singed plastic, and something coppery I recognized instantly: blood.
She screamed—half animal, half human—an unhinged sound that made my chest ache.
Tears began to form in my eyes as I saw her smoking figure. The fuck was wrong with these people???
My eyes flicked toward the perpetrator—the one who'd shocked Lila.
"Well, what do you know? Adrian Carter, huh?"
His voice was smug.
"I never expected you'd still be alive after all this time."
…what? The fucker knew me?
His head tilted toward Lila.
"And his little mutt, Lila Graham. Was she the one protecting you this whole time?"
Lila growled deep in her chest, and even tied down, even half‑fried from electricity, the sound made three of his men inch back. He ignored her— and turned back to me.
I could tell he was smiling behind that mask.
Something twisted in my gut. What deal did this guy have with—
Wait.
His voice.
That pitch. That pathetic little rasp on the ends of his sentences. I'd heard it before.
"I bet you're wondering who I am," he sang.
"Bet my voice sounds really familiar. I suppose I have no choice but to show you."
He pulled the mask off.
My eyes widened.
No. No way.
The fat kid Damien and his crew used to bully?! I think his name was Samuel…wait, no. That was wrong.
"Sebastian—?"
"SHELDON!!"
He hurled the mask onto the concrete, shattering the faceplate.
"My name is FUCKING Sheldon. And don't you ever forget that shit."
He jabbed a finger at me. There was a moment of silence as I gulped, staying quiet.
He ran his fingers through his hair like he was slicking it back.
"I don't get it," I began. "Why would you go after me?? I didn't do anything to you—"
"You said what now?"
He froze.
A beat of silence stretched.
Then he spun toward his crew.
"Guys, hear this! Adrian Carter claims he's done nothing wrong to me!!"
He said it like he was setting up a punchline. The masked individuals delivered as if it were cued. Laughter burst through the warehouse, bouncing off steel beams, echoing around us like a damn sitcom audience.
Sheldon suddenly lifted a closed fist.
Silence dropped instantly, like he'd cut the audio.
I couldn't help but raise a brow. What a fucking dork.
"Yes, you did," he hissed.
"You and your little group made my whole high school a living fucking hell!"
I waited for my moment, the words forming on my tongue—
"But I never did shit to you!! I only just…"
Watched.
My stomach twisted. My own voice betrayed me, shrinking down into silence. I realized how pathetic the excuse sounded, how fragile, how stupid.
"Save your excuses, Carter,"
Was this guy fucking serious!?!? He's not even listening!!
"I've always been bullied. Always been…weak— and this little psycho disease…"
he whispered, almost giddy,
"…is gonna give me the opportunity to return the favor."
My brow twitched upward.
What the hell was he—
Then I saw it.
His corneas.
Red.
Bloodshot. Dilated. Twisted like veins had burst inside them and never healed.
The same kind of look I'd see in the infected back in englewood.
His smile stretched, crooked. Wrong.
"You know, Carter," he said softly, "humans were monsters long before the infected showed up."
He began pacing—slow, theatrical—boots echoing on the concrete as the bulb above flickered like it couldn't look at him for too long.
"We bullied each other. We mocked each other. We kicked people when they were down. And for what?"
He gestured wildly.
"For fun. For attention. For fucking sport."
His voice cracked with something raw—rage or madness or both.
"Animals. That's all we ever were. Wolves picking at the weakest one in the pack."
He stopped pacing and stared at me again.
"My whole high school? A slaughterhouse. Every day. And guys like you…"
His finger jabbed toward my chest like a knife.
"Guys like you watched it happen."
A murmur ran through his group, but Sheldon didn't break eye contact.
Not once.
"The outbreak didn't make people monsters, It just gave them permission."
Lila jerked in her chair at that, a low growl rumbling from her lungs.
"ILL FUCKING MURDER YOU, TUBBY!!!"
Sheldon ignored her—or maybe he didn't dare look at her again.
He stepped closer to me.
"So when the world fell apart…" His voice lowered to a whisper, trembling. "…do you know what I realized?"
I swallowed.
He leaned in until his forehead nearly touched mine.
"That it's our time now. The beaten. The broken. The ones you popular, pretty, perfect assholes stepped on every single day."
His lips curled into a shaky grin, too wide, too sharp.
"This disease gave us teeth."
He straightened, looking almost triumphant.
"And now?"
His arms spread wide, twisting his fingers like he was conducting an orchestra of ghosts.
"Now I get to be the one who bites back."
Before I had the chance to respond— a shot rang out. Figures began to shuffle, turning around. So did he— his smug expression disappearing.
"INTRUDER! INTRUD—"
A bullet caught the neck of the person screaming.
This person being on our side was pretty unlikely— but boy, did I pray.