10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Charon
They come for the water in the morning.
Sometime after dawn, Hector had fallen asleep on the deck, curled onto his side with the cane I'd made him clutched tightly to his chest.
I watch him for as long as I can, remembering the words he told me last night, still reeling from the shock of it. The fall, his father's abandonment, and his sister…Lena…
I don’t even know how to process that part.
His lashes fall over his cheeks, lips parted and stained faintly with dried blood. The soft curls on his head are a mess, stuck to his forehead, half-wild from sleep. He’s breathing slowly, a small crease lingering between his brows even in rest .
He doesn’t know how to be still. Not really. But at this moment, he looks peaceful, like someone who hasn’t spent his entire life running and starving.
It hurts to wake him.
But the Judge waits for no one.
The rumble of their engine is the first thing I hear, echoing faintly through the trees. Tires crunch over gravel from their solar-powered truck, boots stomping through brush when they approach the boat.
I touch Hector's shoulder gently. He flinches awake, immediately reaching for the cane with wide, unfocused eyes.
Pressing a finger to my lips, I gesture to the water barrels before helping him up.
When he's standing steady enough, I let him go to grab the pulley and lower the ramp in time for a group of soldiers to appear on the dock.
To my immediate displeasure, the one leading them is the nose-less asshole who dropped my rations so far away, the same one who shot at Hector's feet when he tried to retrieve them for us. Jonas.
Dance, rotter, dance.
My fists clench when he steps onto the boat with a harsh, ugly sneer.
“Well, looky here,” he drawls, eyeing Hector with a dark look. “The freak kept you alive. Thought for sure he'd have eaten you by now.”
Hector grips his cane tighter, glaring at the soldiers as they start moving barrels off the boat, but he keeps his mouth shut.
Jonas doesn't like that .
“You hear me, rotter?” He moves closer, and I stiffen when he points his rifle right at Hector's chest. “I'm talking to you.”
Hector doesn’t flinch at the rifle, just curls his lip in disgust as he studies the man’s ruined face.
“Are you fucking deaf?” Jonas spits, lifting the gun to jab the barrel into Hector's forehead. “I said—”
Lunging forward quickly, I step between Hector and the rifle, my heart racing as I lift my palms. Hector shifts behind me, readying to swing his cane, but I throw an arm out to stop him with a harsh whisper. “Calm.”
Jonas gazes between us, cruelty glinting in his eyes. “Oh, I see. The freak likes to play with his food. Must get pretty lonely out here, huh?”
Hector exhales furiously at the insinuation. I step forward again, just enough to back Jonas up onto the ramp. He’s still smirking, but he takes a step off the boat, his finger leaving the trigger.
My shoulders relax slightly. But then Hector speaks.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” he mutters under his breath, quiet but still audible enough to make me flinch. Jonas’ smile dies.
“You got something to say, sweetheart?” he snarls, cocking the rifle with a mechanical click.
“Yeah,” Hector answers, despite me shaking my head to tell him no. “I said watch. Your. Fucking . Mouth.”
Jonas's eyes flash, metallic glinting in the cavern on his face as he opens his mouth, whipping the gun in Hector’s direction.
I step forward fast, spreading my arms wide as a growl scrapes my throat .
Jonas barks out a laugh, shoving the barrel against my chest. “Move, freak, or I’ll put so many holes in you that your rotter won’t know which one to fuck.”
Hector steps up beside me, the heat of his anger scalding hot. “Put one bullet in him and you’ll be swallowing your own teeth, motherfucker.”
I throw an arm back to hold him off, not because I doubt him, but because he’s mine to protect. The other soldiers snicker, clearly enjoying the show.
“You rotten piece of shit.” Jonas tries to get around me, but I block his view, backing us up. “Is that a threat?”
Hector peeks around my torso, baring his teeth in a fierce grin that would have made my cock hard if I weren’t currently trying to save his life. “Wouldn’t be the first soldier I’ve killed, and you sure as shit won’t be the last.”
That does it.
Jonas lunges, rifle swinging toward Hector, but my hand darts out to grab the barrel mid-swing. With a crack , I wrench it sideways and slam it across his face. He stumbles back, spurting blood as I grab his vest and pound his head into the railing hard enough to make a dent.
He crumples to the ground, rolling off the ramp onto the dock while the other soldiers back away to make room, none of them offering their assistance. Why would they? Every single one of them had been a prisoner at some point, criminals taken to Zone T until they earned their freedom in the pit.
There’s no honor amongst thieves .
Jonas coughs, wheezing as he climbs to his feet. “You’re dead. Worse than dead. The shit I’m gonna do to you will make you wish you were—”
A clap of thunder rolls through the clouds, echoing off the surrounding mountains.
Everyone freezes. The sky begins to darken, shifting from deep pink to a heavy, bruised red as every soldier on the dock stiffens. Jonas lowers the rifle, swollen eyes darting up toward the horizon as a sliver of lightning cracks the sky, casting his sneer in stark, blood-colored light.
“Shit,” one of the soldiers hollers, panicked. “Red rain. We need to get inside.”
“Guess you freaks get to live another day.” Jonas spits at my feet, turning hard on his heel. “We'll be back when the rain stops, and your little fuck toy better be ashes by then.”
He shouts for the others to hurry, and they scatter fast, boots pounding as they hop back into their vehicle. The engine roars to life, and they vanish into the tree line like rats before a flood.
I stay rooted in place, watching the sky churn above as dark red bleeds into black.
It’s been months since the infected rain last fell.
There’s no warning for it, no pattern. It comes when it wants and lasts as long as it pleases, soaking the ground, seeping into lungs, turning ordinary people into mindless, starving biters.
Unless you're immune, like me, or have the infected gene, like…
Spinning toward Hector, I catch sight of his pale face turned toward the clouds, lips set in a grim line.
The rain affects rotters differently, amplifying their senses, cranking up their instincts to full volume.
Some get violent, some go feral—snarling, biting, forgetting their own name. And some…some need to fuck.
Not want. Need .
Another crack of thunder rumbles around us, followed by a vein of lightning flashing directly above. Electric static raises the hair on my arms, and Nyx announces her arrival with a loud caw before landing on my shoulder.
“ In we go, in we go,” she croaks, feathers ruffled.
My pulse races as I study the sharp rise of Hector's chest, the way his fingers flex tighter around the cane, tension tightening his shoulders. Stormlight catches in his eyes as his pupils expand, completely swallowing the green when he swings his gaze toward mine.
“If you've got a door with a lock,” he whispers, “I'd get behind it. Now .”