The training grounds finally fell silent after what felt like an eternity of punishment.
Ty's muscles screamed as he fwalked out with the other sweat-drenched rookies.
His fresh lion tattoo throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and the memory of that heavy metal ball cracking against the bully's face still lingered in his mind.
So did the small, dangerous smirk Noah had given him from the balcony.
The cafeteria was a depressing hall deep in the facility's mid-level.
Long metal tables filled the space under flickering fluorescent lights.
The air smelled of overcooked protein, stale bread, and too many bodies.
Ranks were obvious even here: elite soldiers and lieutenants sat at the front with trays of real meat, vegetables, and actual seasoning. Rookies and low ranks like Ty were shoved to the back, where servers slapped grayish slop onto dented trays.
Ty took his tray and found a spot alone at the end of a long table.
He stared down at the unappetizing mush. It looked like it had already been eaten once.
His stomach growled anyway. He forced down a spoonful, the taste bland and slightly metallic.
How the hell do I get out of here?
he thought, chewing mechanically.
The facility was a maze of locked corridors, cameras, and armed guards. And even if he escaped the underground complex, the surface world was crawling with infected and rival gangs.
Then there was that bolted door… the one Rafe had shut down instantly.
What was Noah hiding? Weapons? Experiments? Something about his mutation?
His mind kept circling back to the man who used to share half his rations with a grin. The Noah who once laughed at his dumb jokes was now "Nade."
A heavy hand smacked down on his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts.
"Eating alone on your first real day? That's depressing, pretty boy."
Jax dropped onto the bench beside him with a casual grin.
The tattoo artist looked relaxed in a fitted black tank top that showed off his toned arms and the ink crawling up his neck.
His green eyes sparkled with amusement as he glanced at Ty's tray.
"Eugh. They're still feeding you rookies this shit?" Jax shook his head and pushed his own tray—steak strips, rice, and some kind of sauce—toward Ty.
"Here. Take some of mine. I'm not even hungry."
Ty hesitated for half a second before grabbing a piece of meat with his fingers and shoving it into his mouth.
The flavor exploded on his tongue after the slop. He didn't even try to hide how good it tasted.
Jax let out a surprised laugh. "Wow. No 'thank you'? No human compassion? Straight to stealing my food?"
"You offered it," Ty replied around the bite, shrugging.
"Damn. Fair enough." Jax leaned back, elbow resting on the table as he studied Ty with open interest. "You've got balls. I heard what you did to that loudmouth in training. One throw and he's toothless."
They fell into easy conversation. Jax was surprisingly chill, cracking jokes about the instructors and the ridiculous hierarchy of the Pride. But there was an undeniable flirtatious edge to everything he said—lingering looks, a playful nudge against Ty's arm,
compliments about how the lion tattoo suited his "sharp features."
"You know," Jax said, voice dropping a little lower, "most pussies cry or puke after their first full day. You're handling it like you were made for this place. Kinda makes me curious what else you're good at."
Translation: "you look hotter than most people. You are made for me. Can you suck my dick?"
Before Ty could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"Nade wants you."
Rafe stood at the end of the table, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
His eyes flicked briefly to Jax, then back to Ty. "Now."
Jax whistled low. "Boss man himself. Good luck, pretty boy."
He gave Ty's shoulder one last squeeze before Ty stood up.
Ty followed Rafe through winding corridors and up a guarded staircase to the upper residential levels.
The further they went, the nicer the surroundings became—better lighting, actual painted walls instead of raw concrete, fewer biohazard symbols.
Rafe stopped in front of a reinforced door flanked by two silent guards.
"He's inside. Don't keep him waiting."
The door opened.
Ty stepped into Noah's private quarters. The room was surprisingly spacious for the underground facility: a large bed against one wall, a heavy wooden desk covered in maps and reports, weapon racks.
Noah stood near the center of the room, arms crossed over his broad chest. His mutated scars gleamed faintly under the lights, dark veins visible beneath pale skin.
Those eyes locked onto Ty immediately.
He looked… irritated.
Noah didn't speak at first. He simply stared, studying him like a predator.
Then he moved.
Noah crossed the distance in three powerful strides.
Before Ty could react, Noah leaned in close—too close—and lowered his head to the side of Ty's neck.
He inhaled slowly.
Ty froze, every nerve in his body froze.
Noah's breath ghosted over his skin, warm but carrying an unnatural heat.
What the fuck…?
Ty thought, heart hammering.
"You smell like Jax," Noah growled, voice low and rough.
"I… yeah. I was talking to him. In the cafeteria."
Noah pulled back just enough to glare down at him. The red flecks in his eyes seemed brighter.
His expression was dark, possessive in a way that made Ty's stomach twist with fear.
"Take a shower," Noah ordered.
Ty blinked. "What? Why?"
"Because you smell disgusting." Noah's tone left no room for argument. He jerked his chin toward a side door. "Now."
Ty stood there for a second, stunned by the sheer audacity of this man.
Part of him wanted to snap back. The smarter part remembered where he was—and what Noah had become.
He turned stiffly and walked into the bathroom, closing the heavy door behind him with a soft click.
The bathroom was surprisingly clean and modern for the apocalypse—tiled walls, a real shower stall, even a mirror.
Ty leaned against the sink for a moment, staring at his own reflection. His heart was still racing.
He smelled Jax on me. And it pissed him off?
He didn't know whether to feel terrified… or strangely hopeful that some small fragment of the old Noah was still in there somewhere.