Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
NETWORKING
LYLA
We’ve chosen a small clearing for the night—a patch of mossy ground cradled by towering pines.
The sky is a fading masterpiece of orange and purple, the last light slipping into the grasp of twilight.
The air hums with a chorus of insects, blending with the low crackle of our fire, the flames dulled by a tall ring of rocks to keep us hidden.
As the group settles in, I force my body to move despite the exhaustion dragging at me. Every muscle aches, a dull throb beneath my skin, but staying still isn’t an option.
I scan the perimeter, taking in the quiet rhythm of survival.
Earl rubs his ankle while Edith fusses over him. Trish organizes supplies, her movements methodical. Leon sharpens his hatchet, the scrape of steel against stone filling the air.
And then—just beyond the fire’s reach—I see him.
Jacob moves through the trees like a man who’s done this a hundred times, his presence seamless with the night. The firelight catches on the edge of his jaw, the strong curve of his shoulders as he strings metal cans between low branches.
I watch him work, his movements practiced and efficient. Even in stillness, there’s tension in his shoulders, a quiet alertness that never fades. He doesn’t seem to do relaxed. Not really.
I’ve noticed it more over the past week—the way he carries the weight of everyone’s survival like it’s second nature, the way he watches over the group without making a show of it. The way he watches me.
And maybe I watch him too.
Okay, I definitely watch him too.
I don’t realize how long I’ve been staring until he glances up, catching my gaze across the clearing.
His eyes hold mine for a beat, unreadable. Then he tilts his head toward the trees, a silent invitation.
My pulse skips.
I push off the log I’ve been leaning against, making my way over. My boots crunch softly against the forest floor, the firelight dimming behind me until it’s just me and him, wrapped in the shadows of the trees.
“Old-world security system?” I ask, nodding toward the cans.
“Crude, but effective against the undead.” Jacob’s fingers finish off another knot.
He tugs the wire tight, testing it. “If anything gets too close, we’ll hear it before they get the drop on us.
Plus, you should see the stakes.” He nods into the darkness and I can just make out Leon and Earl driving clusters of wooden stakes, clearly made from thick tree branches, into the ground.
“We put these up every time we set up camp. Helps slow down a horde just in case we need to make a quick getaway.”
Efficient. Tactical. Always thinking ahead.
“Anything else I should be aware of out here?” I ask.
“There are also some bear traps beyond the barriers, so it’s best to stay within the perimeter unless either Leon or I are with you.” He winks and continues hanging cans.
My gaze catches on the calluses lining his hands—earned, not inherited.
I nod, glancing back at the camp. Small clusters of people sit around lanterns, voices low, laughter sparking through the stillness. It feels . . . foreign.
Soon, I’ll need a way to stay awake at night.
Keep watch. He’ll come—bruised, maybe broken, but alive.
I’ll use that window to prepare. Volunteer for security setup, figure out the blind spots.
Maybe pitch a few extra measures, make the place harder to breach.
Make it harder for da Vinci to slip in unnoticed.
Jacob misinterprets my hesitation because his voice dips lower, smoother—more knowing. “They won’t bite.”
I huff. “Nice joke, Dad.”
He chuckles, but when I glance over, his expression has softened into something serious. “I mean it. You don’t have to hang back. You saved them. That matters.”
I grab the end of the wire he’s threading, anchoring it to a low branch. If he knew I was dragging danger straight to their doorstep, he might not be so quick to hand out gold stars. “Saving people is easy. Talking to them is the hard part.”
Jacob studies me for a beat, then tilts his head. “You scared of networking, Trouble?”
I snort. “I’m not scared of anything.” I yank the knot tighter. “I just don’t like to get attached.”
He says nothing. Just waits for me to continue. Annoying.
“I don’t like to have friends.”
Jacob hums, thoughtful. “Could’ve fooled me with all that overconfidence, the snappy remarks, and the way that kid follows you around like a damn shadow.”
My gaze flicks toward Joanie, who’s laughing at something Trish said, her voice bright and unbothered.
It’s weird how much she’s wormed her way into my life in only a couple of months.
“She’s more like an annoying kid sister.”
Jacob chuckles, shaking his head. “Sure.”
He finishes tying off his end of the wire, then holds out another length of it toward me. When I reach for it, he doesn’t let go, forcing me to meet his gaze.
His fingers are warm against mine and I swear I can feel my pulse there, in that single point of contact.
“In this world, you don’t survive alone.
You might think you can, but eventually, you’ll end up stuck—shuffling around, lost, just like them.
” His head tilts toward the tree line, where the faintest groans of the undead still linger in the night air.
“It’s other people that’ll keep you moving forward.
They’ll give you light in all this shitty darkness. ”
His fingers tighten—just for a second. Then he lets go, expression shifting. Something haunted flashes in his eyes before the mask drops back into place.
“Trust me,” he says quietly. “I know.”
The words settle like gravel in my chest. I look away, but the truth clings to me—sharp, familiar.
He must see it written across my face, because his shoulder bumps mine as he nudges me toward the clearing. His voice shifts—dropping into something downright playful. “Now, be a good girl and go make some friends.”
My breath catches.
The heat hits low and hard—unexpected and far too effective. Why did my body react so quickly to those two words?
Memo to me: unpack that later.
I roll my eyes and shove past him, ignoring the grin stretching across his face. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Bastard.
I square my shoulders and step back into the firelight, heading toward Edith and Earl, both of whom are tucked under a worn red checkered blanket.
They seem like good choices to start with.
Edith is fussing over Earl, who tells me that he twisted his ankle all because of a rabbit burrow while hunting with Leon yesterday. Of course Edith mentions how he also bruised his ego.
The warmth of the exchange seeps into my bones.
I haven’t felt this in a long time. Like I finally belong somewhere.
The conversation drifts through the night, easy and effortless. Edith tells a story about how Earl once tried to fight off a raccoon with a spatula—a tale that earns a loud, cackling laugh from Joanie and a sheepish grin from Earl.
Eventually, I leave Joanie with them, my body dragging like dead weight. As I step away, Edith murmurs something conspiratorial to Joanie—her voice low, teasing.
Joanie snorts water up her nose. Trish smacks her back, cursing.
I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips as I head for Lucy, the beautiful, dinged-up maroon Trailblazer Joanie and I picked out earlier in a high school parking lot.
But a few steps away, Barbara sits cross-legged beneath a stunted pine, her back pressed against the rough bark as she sifts through a modest pile of supplies—bandages, a few cans of food, a small sack of clothes.
The firelight dances across her face, tracing the tired lines around her eyes. She glances up as I approach, tucking a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear.
“Mind if I join you?” I ask, lowering myself onto the mossy ground beside her.
She shakes her head. “Free country.”
We both laugh at the absurdity of it.
I nod toward the supplies scattered in front of her. “Taking inventory?”
“Something like that.”
Barbara picks up a can of peaches, turning it over in her hands before setting it aside. “Figured I’d see what’s worth keeping, what we can trade if we run into friendlies.”
“Smart,” I say, studying her in the firelight.
She’s got that quiet kind of strength—the kind that doesn’t need to announce itself but is impossible to ignore. Unshakable. I can see where Jacob gets it.
She shrugs. “Just doing what I can.” Then her eyes flick to mine, assessing. “Can I ask you something?”
“Well, since you did save me . . .”
She doesn’t take the bait. “Who was that man in the office with you?”
My body goes still. So that’s where Jacob gets his bluntness.
“He was a man who destroyed many lives.” The words scrape out of me—raw, bitter. I hesitate, weighing how much of myself I want to give away. “He took someone close to me. Just to punish me. I owed a lot of people his death.”
The truth hangs in the air between us. Solid. Unshakable.
I think of every family I had to face. Every mother I had to tell, your daughter’s gone. Every promise I made that justice would come.
And now, it will.
A jolt runs through me at the warmth of Barbara’s hand on mine. She squeezes my hand, pulling me back. When I meet her gaze, there’s only comfort.
“I’m glad you got him,” she says simply.
My chest tightens. I wish I could tell her he’s really gone. That he isn’t still out there, breathing, watching, waiting. But soon. I won’t let da Vinci tear apart another family.
Movement catches my eye.
Jacob steps into the clearing, heading toward the camper hitched to the back of Earl’s truck.
I nod toward him, eager for the shift. “What’s his story?”
It’s low, I know—asking his mom—but who better to offer insight than the woman who raised him?
Barbara follows my gaze.
Firelight softens her features, and for the first time, I catch something unmistakable in her eyes—love. Fierce. Unshakable. The kind I used to dream my father might show me. The kind he never did.