Surviving Hearts (Apocalyptic Hearts #2)

Chapter 1

Your Boys

Olivia

“If you keep glaring at me, your face is going to stick like that,” I tell Rhys with a frustrated sigh. It’s been about ten minutes since the group dispersed to gather supplies, and Rhys hasn’t stopped scowling at me.

It’s getting annoying. On the bright side, the cut on my cheek isn’t throbbing as badly as it was, and my neck isn’t as sore from being strangled, so maybe I got lucky and it isn’t bruised.

“Too late for that,” Theo says with a grin, although it’s strained around the edges. “It’s the guy’s default facial expression.”

Rhys turns his ire on Theo. “I wouldn’t be wearing this expression if the people around me didn’t constantly try to get themselves killed.” He directs the last part at me.

I roll my eyes. This is a conversation we’ve been having since I disregarded his orders at that damn bridge nearly two weeks ago. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve justified my case, he still won’t let it go. Stubborn bastard.

Not wanting to get into another argument with him, I steer my horse, Bean, away from where the guys are standing. Harlow, my blue merle Australian Shephard, follows.

“Where are you going?” Rhys demands.

“To grab my arrows and get away from you.”

“Princess—”

“Let her go, Rhys. She’s still going to be within our sights,” Alex says, cutting Rhys off before he can bark out the order.

“It’s not like she can get into too much trouble with the corpses.

” His tone is bitter, and I wince. I guess he’s still pissed about my stupid scheme of using myself as bait from earlier.

There’s a heavy, relenting sigh from Rhys, but he doesn’t call me back.

I ride Bean over to a grassy area and jump off her back to let her relax and eat some grass before we have to leave.

While she grazes, I turn back to the bodies strewn across the battlefield and grimace.

There’s so many dead people, just lying in the dirt, their lives snuffed out in an instant.

While most of them were terrible people or zombies intent on killing us, it doesn’t take away from the horror of the sight.

Or the guilt swirling in my stomach.

It’s not that I feel remorse over the people I killed; it’s the opposite. The only emotion I have is relief that they’re dead, which makes me feel guilty. I took the lives of several people; shouldn’t I be regretting my actions? Or at least shame that I killed people. But there’s nothing.

Which makes me wonder: am I any better than the monsters I killed?

Harlow whines and pushes her wet nose into my hand. I turn my attention away from the gruesome view to my dog as I thread my fingers through her thick fur. “I know, girl,” I murmur as I stroke her.

She leans into my side, grounding me as the warmth of her body soaks through my leggings. As much as I’d like to stand here and cuddle Harlow, I really need to get my arrows back.

With a sigh, I locate the nearest arrow sticking out of a corpse and walk over to it. I keep my mind focused on the task at hand; pull the arrow free and clean the tip on the nearby grass before locating the next one. As long as I don’t think too hard about it, I’ll keep my sanity.

“So, how many people did you kill?”

I choke on air and almost stumble onto the dead corpse at my feet. The reality of what I’m doing comes rushing in, and I have to fight not to freak out.

“What?” I croak as I whirl around to face the source of that fucked-up question.

A tall, muscular woman stands in front of me, holding a rifle with a practised ease that makes me think she must be some kind of ex-military.

She looks vaguely familiar, with a strong nose and jaw and hazel eyes framed by thick lashes.

Her brown hair is cut short, the frayed tips brushing her wide shoulders.

“I asked how many people you killed during that fight,” she says, her thin lips quirked up into a small smile. “Since you seem pretty good with that bow, I wondered if it was a viable alternative to guns once we run out of bullets.”

I stare at her, lips parted and eyes tight with dismay. Who the fuck walks up to a stranger and asks them how many people they've murdered?

The woman winces at my expression. “Sorry, I suck at talking to civs. I should have led with my name first. I’m Rachel.” She holds out the hand not holding her rifle towards me.

My eyes widen. Holy shit, it’s her! The woman I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to track down and save. I take her hand and shake it. “Well shit. I’m Ollie—Tobias’s sister—and I’ve been looking for you.” No wonder she looks so familiar; she’s Andy’s daughter.

Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “You were?” Her hand tightens around mine.

I bite back a wince as the tiny bones in my hand grind together. Fuck, this woman is strong. “Yeah, I kind of know your dad, Andy. He’s the one that told me what happened with you and my brother and kick-started this entire journey.”

Her eyebrows shoot upward, but she doesn’t let up her grip on my hand. “My dad? Is he okay? And what about my partner, Tamsin?”

If she keeps squeezing my hand like that, she’s going to break it. “Your dad was fine when I last saw him, and he said Tamsin was heading towards the same settlement the guys I’m travelling with are from.” Please let go of my hand.

Rachel yanks me towards her, drops my hand, and wraps her arms around me.

I just about get the bundle of arrows in my hand out of the way in time to not stab her or myself as she crushes me against her chest. Her hold is so tight that my spine and ribs pop, and I struggle to breathe as the hard metal and plastic of her rifle digs into my stomach.

Oh fuck. This isn’t what I meant when I wanted her to let go of my hand. How is this woman so strong?

Rachel must hear my wheezing because she lightens her hold with a curse. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, patting my arm with a sheepish expression. “Tamsin says I’m too enthusiastic for my own good sometimes.”

Harlow whines and tries to shove herself between us, apparently not pleased about being left out of the hug. The other woman grins down at the dog and disentangles herself from me to scratch behind Harlow’s ear. The dog immediately groans and pushes further into Rachel’s hand.

I rub my aching ribs and roll my eyes at her antics. The dog is a slut for pets. “Rachel, meet Harlow.”

“You’re gorgeous, Harlow,” Rachel coos as she continues to fuss her, much to Harlow’s delight if her thumping back leg is anything to go by.

After a while, Rachel stands and turns her attention back to me.

“I want to thank you for your help in freeing us. Without you and the other guys, we would have lost a lot more people.”

I wave her off even as her gratitude warms my chest and eases some of my guilt.

“I didn’t do much; I was just the distraction.

Rhys and Theo are the ones who did the heavy lifting.

” They were the ones who snuck into the camp and convinced the captives to help us.

Plus, if they hadn’t taken down those watchtowers, we would have been in a world of trouble thanks to the rifles they had.

“Don’t sell yourself short like that. Judging from the number of arrows you’ve collected, you did more than just serve as a distraction.” She shoots a meaningful look at the bundle of bloodied arrows still clutched in my hand.

I bite back a grimace at the reminder that I took my fair share of lives during the fight. “Sure,” I say as gaze around the camp-turned-war-zone to distract myself from the dark turn of my thoughts.

Bean is where I left her, munching on grass off to one side, with Ketchup, the magpie I sort of adopted, sitting on top of the saddle preening herself.

People are filtering in from various buildings, all laden with supplies.

Some carry bulging plastic bags while others clutch weapons against their chest and some even have various clothing items and blankets draped over their arms. At least they took Rhys’s instructions seriously when he told them to grab supplies.

“Damn. That was a quick fifteen minutes,” Rachel mutters beside me, having also watched the other captives move towards the guys.

I glance over at her. “Didn’t you want to get some supplies for the journey?” All she has is the rifle and the tattered clothes on her back.

She shakes her head. “Nah. I’m much more useful standing watch out here than panic-shoving things into a bag. Besides, judging from how much shit everyone has, there’ll be enough for me.”

She’s not wrong. The group has amassed a huge amount of supplies considering they only had fifteen minutes. Hopefully, it’ll be enough for the long journey ahead.

I turn away from the crowd and stride over to the next corpse with an arrow sticking out of it.

It’s often hard to identify if the bodies were zombies in death since a lot of the guards ended up turning during the fight.

This corpse, however, is half-rotted, making it obvious that this was a zombie.

While killing the undead has become easier, there’s still a twinge of guilt as I yank the arrow free from the corpse’s skull.

“I didn’t realise you’d got so good with that bow,” a familiar voice says behind me.

I jerk around to find my brother, Tobias, standing behind me.

In the early morning sunlight, he looks older.

The strands of hair at his temples are greyer than they were before, and there are more wrinkles on his dirty, gaunt face.

His clothes are nothing more than filthy rags that hang off his shoulders, highlighting just how much weight he’s lost in the few weeks he’s been gone.

I tilt my head as I spot a double-barrelled shotgun in his hands. Since when does he know how to shoot?

He follows my gaze and shrugs. “Survival is hell of a motivator,” he says, understanding my silent question.

“Right.” I shift awkwardly on my feet.

Now that the adrenaline from the fight and the crushing relief of finally saving him is gone, I don’t know how to act around him. It’s only been a few weeks, but so much has happened that it makes those weeks feel like years. I’ve changed, I know I have, and I’m sure he has too.

His forehead wrinkles as he glances down at the corpse at my feet. “I see the same thing happened with you, too.”

I shrug one shoulder. “Sort of.”

God, why is this so awkward? He’s my brother, my only living family left. I should be... well, not normal, but not whatever the hell this is.

His lips twitch as like can read my internal freak-out. “Come on, Liv. I think your boys are ready for all of us to get out of this hellhole.”

“They’re not my boys.”

“Sure they aren’t.” He chuckles as he strides off towards them.

“They’re not,” I call after him before sighing and following him like a lost puppy. The awkwardness from earlier dissipates, replaced with the familiarity of our banter.

“So, which one is it?” he asks as I reach his side.

I glance over at him with a furrowed brow. “Which one is what?”

He gives me a look. “Don’t bullshit me, Liv. I’ve known you your entire life; I know the look you get when you’re falling for someone. So which one is it? The grumpy guy, the mountain man, or the one with the tattoos?”

Oh, hell no. We’re not doing this. There’s no way I’m going to confess to my brother that my greedy ass can’t decide and that I’m falling for all three of them. Or that only two of them actually want me, and one of them is determined to get the others to agree to share me.

I shake my head. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

He pouts. “Why not? Personally, I’m rooting for the mountain man. He seems the sweetest of the three. Plus, he can’t seem to keep his eyes off you.”

I’m guessing that’s Alex? I snort and roll my eyes.

“You can root for him all you want; I’m still not talking to you about this.

If you need gossip that badly, I’m sure someone else has tea to spill.

” It’s been so long since we were around other people that I’ve forgotten what a massive gossip my brother is.

Something in me lightens at the thought, at how normal this feels.

Tobias huffs. “I’ve spent the past few weeks with those people; I know all the gossip.”

“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to hope drama happens during the journey because I’m not giving you shit.” I level him with my best stern expression.

“Between you and those three guys?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll have to wait very long.”

As if some deity was just waiting for him to say that, there’s a high-pitched squeal followed by a feminine voice shouting, “Rhys!”

“Right on time,” Tobias mutters under his breath.

My eyes snap toward the noise just in time to see a woman race over and launch herself at Rhys, ignoring the glares from Alex and Theo. The ex-SAS officer barely catches her, a pained expression on his face as she clings to him like a koala.

Well, fuck. Who the hell is that?