The Last of Love (The Lost World #2)

1. Lena

1

LENA

L ena stood at the front of the meeting room, arms crossed, as the group debated the dwindling supply situation. They were low on everything: food, medicine, ammunition. The familiar tension hung in the air. Everyone was looking to her for answers, for direction, and she couldn’t afford to show any sign of uncertainty. Since the outbreak, Lena had become a leader for her compound. She had to have all the answers. She had to be strong.

Lena was only 35, but the weight of leadership had aged her beyond her years. She carried herself with the kind of authority that came naturally to her; at 5'11", she was tall, imposing, and commanded attention without needing to raise her voice. Her presence alone was enough to make people stop and listen, and when she did speak, her voice had that low, steady tone of someone who had seen too much but refused to be shaken.

Her body told the same story. Even through the worn fabric of her firefighter uniform, her muscles were unmistakable. She had broad shoulders, defined arms, and a strength that seemed almost otherworldly in these bleak times. The uniform itself had become a symbol of her past life, but more than that, it was practical. She could move easily in it, and it reminded everyone of what she had once been. It still carried weight. In a world where symbols mattered as much as survival, Lena’s uniform was a reminder of order, of the days when saving lives meant rushing into burning buildings, not fighting off hordes of the undead.

Her hair, a dark sandy blonde, had grown longer in the years since the outbreak. She used to keep it cropped short, practical and no-nonsense, but now? There was no time for vanity or upkeep. The world was different. She had other priorities. Most days, she just swept it up and out of her face, tying it back in a tight, no-frills bun. It didn’t matter what she looked like, only that she could get the job done. Efficiency over aesthetics. She never had the luxury of worrying about how she appeared to others.

But even as she walked through the compound, her sharp, stoic features set in their usual expression, people would look at her and feel a surge of reassurance. She exuded strength, the kind of strength that had kept their small community standing for the past three years. She didn’t smile much— since there wasn’t much to smile about. But Lena was their leader; Lena gave them hope.

Yet, behind the tough exterior, there were moments of doubt, of course. They came rarely, creeping in during the quiet hours when no one was watching. She wondered how long she could keep this up. How long before the weight of it all crushed her? How long before her muscles, her discipline, her sheer willpower weren’t enough? But those were thoughts she never let show. She buried them, just like everything else.

Lena’s focus remained outward. There was no space for self-pity or fear. That’s why she wore the uniform. It’s why she hadn’t changed it, ignoring how the sleeves were starting to fray and the edges worn soft from constant use. It was more than just a piece of clothing. It was armor. It kept her tied to the woman she had been before the world collapsed, to the ideals of service, duty, and responsibility that had shaped her entire life.

The truth was, Lena had always been the one to step up. For as long as she could remember, she had been told that being a Sorenson meant carrying the weight of others on your shoulders. Public service ran in her blood. Her father had been a fire chief; her mother, a paramedic. She had chosen firefighting, drawn to the thrill and the danger of saving lives from the brink of disaster, following in the footsteps of her father. She never backed down from a challenge, and she never gave up on people.

But now, people were different. The world was different. Saving lives wasn’t about pulling people from burning buildings anymore. It was about survival, about making decisions no one should ever have to make. And the hardest part? Knowing she couldn’t save everyone. Not anymore.

As Lena glanced at herself in the reflection of the meeting room door, she barely recognized the woman staring back. The stern set of her jaw, the lines around her eyes, the tight bun of hair that had once been carelessly short. Everything about the way she looked screamed resilience, but there was something else, too: a hardness that hadn’t been there before. A weariness. She had become a leader not by choice, but by necessity, and she wore that necessity like another layer of armor.

Lena focused back on the meeting. Tensions were getting higher and higher when suddenly Lena was saved by a knock at the door. Lena glanced up, seeming irritated by the interruption but actually relieved.

“There’s someone at the gate.” A guard fumbled in. “They say they have some important information.”

Lena’s brow furrowed. “Do they look healthy? Are they alone?”

“She seems to be normal and alone.”

“She? Oh boy. Okay.” She exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from her shoulders before pushing away from the table. “I’ll go check her out.”

These checks had become routine. She had to be careful about who she let into the compound. Since the outbreak, aside from her role as leader in the community, Lena had also taken on the responsibility of filtering the desperate from the dangerous. They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. One wrong move, and the entire community could be exposed. One infected newcomer, and they could all be wiped out. The weight of it pressed on her constantly. They needed everyone, every able body, and yet they couldn’t trust just anyone.

Three years ago, Lena never would’ve guessed that this would be her life. She had always been career-focused, following in the footsteps of those in her family before her. Back then, she was living the life she had always imagined. At only 32, she had risen to become a distinguished fire captain in New York. This title demanded respect and carried weight wherever she went. Her life revolved around saving others. She was all too familiar with rushing into burning buildings while everyone else was running out. It was exhilarating, but dangerous.

Of course, that kind of success at such a young age didn’t come without its disadvantages. She’d made sacrifices. Friendships faded as she prioritized long hours at the station, endless training, and the constant need to be on call. Family gatherings became rare, distant memories. At least they were understanding. But relationships? Those were nearly impossible to maintain with the demands of the job. But who else could say they had the same level of respect and prestige? It was a price she’d been willing to pay, at least back then.

Her commitment to saving lives was the reason she was trusted so completely, the reason she had been chosen to lead, to take charge. Her bravery in the face of danger had made her a figure of authority, someone people looked to in a crisis. And for a time, that had been enough for her. More than enough.

But this? This wasn’t the life she had signed up for.

Now she was more than just a fire captain. She had been thrust into a position of total leadership, one that stretched far beyond the scope of anything she had ever trained for. She wasn’t just coordinating rescue missions or leading her team into burning buildings anymore. She was responsible for the survival of an entire community. Defense. Security. Training civilians on how to fight zombies, something that still felt surreal no matter how many times she said it out loud.

And these endless supply meetings. It felt like everything was crumbling around her, and yet here she was, discussing rations and ammunition stockpiles as if they could plan their way out of an apocalypse. It was too much.

As much as it was an honor to be trusted with the role, this wasn’t the responsibility she had ever really wanted. She hadn’t signed up to be a leader of one of the last standing communities in a world overrun by the undead. She hadn’t planned on making life-or-death decisions on a daily basis, or deciding who to let in and who to turn away at the gates. The constant weight of it all pressed down on her like a physical force, a burden that never left her shoulders.

She missed the simplicity of her old life. There had been danger, sure, but it was a danger she understood. There was structure, predictability in the chaos. She could prepare for it, train for it. This, though? This was chaos without rules. It was survival of the fittest in its rawest form, and she had been thrown into the deep end.

It was so much. Too much, sometimes.

And yet she couldn’t let herself buckle under the pressure. People were counting on her. And even when it felt like she was just holding things together with sheer will, she couldn’t afford to let that responsibility slip. Not now.

She made her way to the security office, flipping on the intercom as she stared into the grainy black-and-white footage on the camera. Her eyes narrowed at the figure standing at the gate, a person she recognized instantly.

Lena scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re telling me you didn’t know who this was?”

The guard gave a sheepish shrug, clearly confused.

She shook her head. Unbelievable. Of course she knew who it was. How could she not? Even through the grainy footage, the woman’s stance was unmistakable. She was bold, confident, completely unbothered by the desolation around her. The world could be burning down, and Fleur would stand there like it was just another Tuesday.

“What brings you here to grace us with your presence?” Lena’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she leaned into the mic.

The woman on the other side of the gate, Fleur Harrison, stood there looking impatient. She had the same cold expression Lena had seen in a thousand interviews, right before the world fell apart. Fleur, the brilliant geneticist whose studies in viral genealogy had made her both famous and infamous. A woman with a reputation for being a know-it-all with no time for anyone else’s nonsense. A woman whom she thought might one day bring hope to end all of this.

“I desperately need an escort.” Fleur said plainly, her voice crisp and without a hint of emotion. Like this was all a formality.

Lena’s lip curled. “And you came here?”

Fleur tilted her head slightly, her gaze unyielding even through the camera lens. “Can’t you just let me in already? If you keep me out here any longer, maybe I’ll get attacked, and you’ll never know what information I have. I’m pretty useful, you know!”

Lena paused, her hand hovering over the button that would release the gate. The last thing she needed was this woman, someone who seemed to treat life-and-death situations as an inconvenience, barging into their camp. But if Fleur had information, real information, it could change everything.

“Fine,” Lena muttered, pressing the button to open the gate.

As the metal groaned and slid open, she stepped out to meet her. Fleur moved with the same confidence in person, and now that Lena could see her up close, she wasn’t surprised. Fleur looked exactly as she had in all the photos and news coverage before everything went to hell: poised, composed, and dressed like the apocalypse couldn’t touch her.

And that irritated Lena to no end.

“Welcome.” Lena said with an irritated and sarcastic tone.

Fleur raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She looked around quickly before locking on to Lena.

Lena crossed her arms, standing firm. “So, what’s this information you have?”

Fleur made a less-than-pleased expression. “We’ll talk once I’m inside. I can’t risk others hearing me.”

Lena rolled her eyes but motioned for Fleur to follow her into the compound. She had no idea what this woman was playing at, but one thing was clear: Fleur was trouble. And as much as Lena hated to admit it, there was something about her that made Lena’s pulse quicken, a fierce pull she couldn’t shake.

Leading Fleur down the narrow hall, Lena clenched her jaw, her mind racing. She didn’t want anyone in the compound overhearing what was about to be said. Not yet. Fleur's arrival had already caused enough disruption, and Lena was determined to keep this conversation private. Her community didn’t need false hope. They had been through enough.

She struggled to trust Fleur. The name was too well-known, too attached to promises that, in Lena’s eyes, couldn’t possibly be real. Could there really be a cure? It was all wishful thinking, a way to keep people clinging to a fantasy while the world fell apart. And hope... hope had no place here anymore. It was a dangerous distraction. Lena had let that go a long time ago. Now, she operated on facts, on what she could see, hear, and feel. Anything else was just a pipe dream.

They reached the meeting room. Lena glanced at Fleur, who hadn’t spoken a word during the walk. Fleur’s face was unreadable, her eyes cool and calculating. But Lena knew better. People only came here when they were desperate. She opened the door, ushering her in, and closed it firmly behind them, locking it with a quiet click. The sound seemed to echo in the small room, creating an atmosphere thick with tension.

Fleur didn’t waste any time. “I need an escort,” she said, her voice crisp and to the point.

Lena narrowed her eyes as she leaned against the door, arms crossed. Now that they were alone, something shifted in Fleur. Her stiff, cold exterior started to crack. The aloofness gave way to something Lena recognized all too well. It was desperation. The great Dr. Fleur Harrison, the woman of intellect and renown, suddenly didn’t seem as in control as she projected. The fire of urgency was flickering behind her eyes, and Lena could feel it.

“An escort?” Lena’s voice came out sharp, skepticism lacing every word. “Who? Why come here? And for what?”

Fleur took a breath, her gaze steady but her posture tense. “I had to leave the lab. It wasn’t safe anymore. I can’t go into all the details. Not yet.”

Lena raised an eyebrow, her distrust deepening. “What makes you think it’s safe here? You think I’m not a threat?”

Fleur’s expression faltered for a split second, then she regained her composure. “Honestly, I’m not sure,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “But I’ve heard of your reputation, and you seemed like the only person who could get the job done.”

“Who knows you’re here?” Lena’s tone was sharp, each question more pointed than the last.

“No one,” Fleur replied, shaking her head quickly. “I told no one, and I snuck out without anyone knowing.”

Lena studied her, weighing every word. She didn’t believe in coincidences, and Fleur showing up on her doorstep felt too convenient, too perfect. “Where exactly do you need to go?”

“I need to get to the research base in Ohio. We need a cure, and I think the information I have could help with that—maybe,” Fleur said. Her voice was steady, but Lena caught the flicker of doubt in her eyes.

Lena let out a short, humorless laugh. “Ohio? I heard that place was just a rumor. Just another wild story to keep people chasing something that doesn’t exist. I know exactly who you are, but this is a huge ask.”

Fleur’s gaze hardened. “I understand that, but I’ve been in contact with them, and trust me, this could change everything.”

“And you’re sure no one followed you here? No one knows where you’ve gone? Trust doesn’t come easy in this world,” Lena pressed, her irritation rising. The last thing she needed was more attention on her community, especially from people chasing down this supposed cure. If someone found out Fleur was here, it could lead to an avalanche of trouble, and that was something her people couldn’t afford. On top of that, Ohio?! It wasn’t that far away, but there were places that cars could no longer pass, so they’d have to risk hiking.

“I didn’t tell them I was coming here,” Fleur said, her voice trembling slightly now, a rare crack in her facade. “I don’t want to put anyone in danger. I just… I want to help. I know I can help. And I know you are the person to help me get there. Just trust me.” Her voice trailed off, revealing a vulnerability Lena hadn’t expected.

Lena’s jaw tightened. She couldn’t help but be skeptical. She had heard too many stories of people who ventured out in search of something better, something they believed would save them, and never returned. The survival rate for anyone outside the compound was zero to none. She’d seen the look in Fleur’s eyes before. She’d seen it in the faces of those who had lost everything but refused to let go of the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, there was something out there that would fix all this.

But she couldn’t afford to take unnecessary risks. Not for someone she barely knew. Not for a dream that would likely get them all killed.

“Look,” Lena said, her voice low but firm, “I don’t know what you think you’re going to find at that base, but I’m not risking my people for a half-baked plan on some kind of fantasy about a cure to save us all.”

Fleur’s desperation flared again, this time more visibly. “I’m not asking you to risk them. Just me. I can’t do this alone.”

Lena met her gaze, searching for any hint of deceit, but all she saw was exhaustion and a flicker of something dangerously close to hope, and that was what unsettled her the most.

Lena had her doubts, but she knew one thing for sure: she would have to bring Fleur to Ohio. There was no avoiding it now. Fleur had the knowledge that had the potential to change everything, but the logistics of leaving her community weighed heavily on Lena’s mind. Who would she leave in charge? The thought alone brought an uneasy churn to her gut. How could she disappear without anyone realizing she was gone?

Since she was a leader—although she wasn’t the only one—she knew her absence would spark rumors, panic even. This community relied on her presence and her strength to hold things together. They needed someone to trust implicitly in her stead, and there was only one person she could think of: Gene.

Gene had been thrust into leadership just like her. He was older, seasoned with the kind of hard-earned wisdom that came from years in the military. A former colonel in the army, a full-blooded American. Though Lena didn’t always agree with some of his more hard-lined stances, she couldn’t deny his experience. She knew that if he spoke, people would listen without question. That was what she needed to have some peace of mind. Someone to maintain order, someone people trusted as much as they did her.

But still, a knot tightened in her stomach at the thought. Gene had always struck her as a bit too dismissive, patronizing, almost comfortable in chaos. He seemed to enjoy the control a little too much, but she had no other choice. She knew Fleur was bright and saw potential in her to make a difference.

Lena found Gene. He was sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate strokes. The metallic rasp filled the air, a sound that had become too familiar in this new world. Without wasting time, she brought him to the meeting room that Fleur had been waiting in and told him about the plan.

He looked up with a smirk on his face. "Ohio, huh? Ambitious. But if anyone can pull it off, it’s you." Something about his tone made her feel tense.

"You trust him?" Fleur looked at Gene with skepticism, crossing her arms.

Lena turned to face her. “Yes, I do. He’s the only one who can take over without causing a panic, and we need someone like that if we’re going to leave quietly.”

Gene chuckled, his amusement almost irritating in its confidence. "Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll hold down the fort. Keep everything running smooth. You just focus on getting to that lab and getting some answers about this infection. I’m kinda tired of it."

There was something in Gene’s tone that didn’t sit right with Lena, something too casual about the way he took control, but this wasn’t the time for second-guessing. She pushed the feeling aside.

"I’ll pack everything we need," Lena said, her voice firm. "We leave at dawn. No one must know my whereabouts unless it’s absolutely necessary."

Gene gave a mock salute. "You got it, Captain."

She nodded once, turning on her heel to leave the room. As she walked away, she couldn’t help but feel the tension between them, lingering like a bad taste in the air.

Lena couldn’t let it bother her. She had bigger problems. The journey to Ohio was going to be dangerous, and the last thing she needed was distractions. Still, as she gathered her gear and prepared to leave the only home she had known for the last three years, the uneasy feeling in her gut refused to fade.