Harem Apocalypse: My Seed is the Cure?!

Chapter 373: Marlon’s House

After a good breakfast with Carmen and Shannon, I left for Summer’s house.

Or rather, Marlon’s house.

It was near Brighton Park, which honestly didn’t surprise me much. Marlon was the type to grow attached to a place and stick to it for years, and I could easily imagine him coming there before the outbreak, back when retirement had probably meant quiet walks, fresh air, and the right to be left the hell alone.

That part of his life hadn’t lasted.

The outbreak had dragged him right back out of retirement and shoved him into a war he probably never wanted, against a man he had once trained with his own hands. That was the worst part of it. Callighan wasn’t some random enemy Marlon had met after the world fell apart. He was someone from before. Someone who had known him when things still had rules.

It was a rotten hand for both of them.

Still, thinking about it didn’t make me side with Callighan.

Yeah, I understood some of it. More than I wanted to. His mother had died right after he got locked away, and from what Marlon said, he had been trying to gather money for her treatment before all of that happened. Losing a mother could leave a hole in you so deep it twisted everything around it. I knew that much too well.

But even then, I didn’t think I would have chosen what he chose.

Callighan looked like a man still chained to the worst part of his life, dragging those chains everywhere he went and calling it purpose. Maybe he really believed killing Marlon would free him. Maybe it even would, for a second. That still didn’t make it right. Too many other people had gotten pulled into his revenge. Too many innocent lives had been chewed up by something that should have stayed between two men and the past.

By the time I finished thinking that through, I was already standing in front of the house Carmen had described.

This had to be it.

I walked up to the door and knocked once.

Nothing.

I waited a few seconds, then knocked again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

I stepped back and glanced around the street, then back at the house.

"I got the right one, right?" I muttered to myself.

It matched what Carmen had said. The location, the size, the look of it. Unless there were two houses nearby that looked exactly the same and belonged to grumpy old ex-marines with daughters my age, this had to be the place.

Maybe they had both gone out.

That thought hit me wrong right away.

Oh no.

I really hoped Summer hadn’t already left for the mall without me.

I moved off to the side of the house and found a window that let me see part of the inside. The living room looked neat. Too neat, honestly. Marlon didn’t exactly strike me as the decorative type, but the place was clean, organized, everything in order. It looked lived in, not abandoned.

So yeah, definitely the right house.

I kept looking through the glass for another second, and that was when I spotted a framed picture on one of the shelves. I leaned in a little, trying to make it out better.

A family of four.

A younger Marlon stood in it, and next to him, smaller, younger, was Summer.

That settled it.

I exhaled slowly and stepped back from the window.

So if this was the right house and nobody was answering...

Was she still asleep?

Or was I just refusing to accept that she’d already gone to that damn mall without me?

"I should check the back," I said under my breath.

Not the smartest idea I’d ever had.

Still, I went.

I circled around the side, reached the back wall, and climbed over it into the garden with more care than dignity. The yard was tidy too. There was a small planted patch back there, clearly looked after, and I made sure to give it space instead of stomping across it like an idiot.

Then I saw the glass door.

It was slightly open.

I stopped for a second, frowned, then walked closer.

"Hello?" I called, awkwardly pushing the door wider.

No answer.

So I stepped inside.

I shut the door behind me on instinct, already about to call for Summer again when I heard footsteps behind me and went still.

"Summer—"

I turned.

And froze.

Marlon stood there staring at me with a face carved out of pure sternness.

For a few seconds, neither of us said anything.

Then he spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

"I..." I straightened a little and forced myself not to look guilty, because technically I wasn’t guilty. Concerned, yes. Stupid, maybe. But not guilty. "I came to pick Summer up."

Marlon’s eyes narrowed.

"So," he said slowly, "you slipped into my house from the back, through my garden, quiet as a thief, to ’pick up’ my daughter."

The way he said daughter made the whole thing sound ten times worse.

And, to be fair, from where he was standing, it probably looked terrible.

"No, I mean— I knocked first," I said quickly. "No one answered."

He looked at me like that explained absolutely nothing.

"So you came in from behind instead?" he asked. "The world may have gone to shit, but that doesn’t mean privacy stopped existing."

Yeah.

That was fair.

"Right. I’m sorry..."

And I meant it.

I really had just wanted to make sure Summer was still here and hadn’t already gone off on her own, but explaining that while standing inside his house after climbing over the back wall wasn’t exactly helping my case.

Before Marlon could keep going, Summer’s voice cut through the room.

"Dad, God, stop bullying him already!"

I looked up toward the stairs.

Summer was coming down, slipping into a blue shirt as she moved, a bag already hanging from one shoulder. She looked half-ready to leave and half-annoyed at whatever expression was on her father’s face, and the second she came into full view I felt some of the tension go out of my shoulders.

At least I hadn’t been too late.

Marlon turned that stern look on Summer next.

"So you knew this brat was coming to pick you up?" he asked, already sounding tired of the answer.

"God, please don’t make it weird," Summer said as she came down the last steps. "I’m just keeping an eye on him since Maribel gave up."

"I’ll send someone else to do that," Marlon said at once, his voice rising.

Summer barely reacted. "No, I’ll be fine. I’m free anyway, and you’ve got other things to worry about."

She turned and started toward the entrance like that settled it.

Marlon’s eyes dropped to the bag on her shoulder.

"Wait. Why are you taking a bag?"

Summer stopped mid-step.

For a second, even I felt the pause.

Then she recovered fast. "I brought some books. In case he gets busy and I have to wait around."

Marlon kept staring at her, clearly not convinced.

"I still don’t like you and this brat running around together—"

"Yes, yes," Summer said, rolling her eyes again before he could really get going. Then she looked at me. "Come on, Ryan."

I was about to move after her when Marlon called out.

"Ryan."

I stopped and turned back.

He was still watching me with that same heavy expression, and for half a second I thought he was going to come back to the whole daughter thing.

"I’m not trying anything with your daughter—" I started.

"Not that," he cut in. "The hotel."

That got my full attention.

I widened my eyes a little. So the wait was over.

I’d left that part to him. The Golden Nugget Hotel, the State Marina, the men, the timing, the whole ugly operation behind it. Marlon had the people and knowledge for that side of things. I’d only helped push the idea and laid out what I knew.

"So?" I asked. "Are we good?"

He gave a short nod.

"In two days," he said. Then he corrected himself, more precise now. "Actually, less. Night after tomorrow."

I took that in.

Sooner than I expected.

"So everyone knows?" I asked.

"They do," he said. Then his eyes sharpened on me. "What about you?"

"I’m in, like I said." I held his stare. "My group too."

Marlon didn’t respond right away.

When he spoke again, his voice had lost the irritation from before. It came out serious.

"There may be deaths. Do you understand that?"

The way he said it made the room feel heavier.

Not because I hadn’t already thought about it. I had. A lot. But hearing it put that plainly still did something to your stomach.

"In your group," Marlon continued, "or among my men. And we’ll have to kill our way through if it comes to that."

He wasn’t warning me like I was stupid. He was checking if I was still acting brave only because the blood wasn’t in front of me yet.

To him, I was still a kid. Even if I had seen too much already, even if I had fought and survived and made decisions most adults would’ve folded under, I was still young enough for him to question whether I really understood what I was agreeing to.

Fair enough.

Still, I didn’t back off.

"I’m ready," I said. "And so are the others. Don’t underestimate us. We’ve gone through a lot before we ever got here."

Marlon held my gaze for another second, then nodded once.

"Good."

I exhaled quietly, then asked, "What about your men? Did you actually convince them to put their lives on the line for the hotel?"

Marlon’s mouth tightened.

"They know we don’t have much choice left," he said. "We’ve spent too long sitting on the defensive. We’ve lost people we couldn’t afford to lose these past months. They’re angry, and they’re tired of waiting."

He paused, then looked at me harder.

"And we need to move now. You said they’re preparing some kind of weapon to use against us?"

I nodded.

I had told him about the Atlantic Theatre already. About the fight, about what happened there, and about what Tommy told me, that Callighan needed the Nexon Battery for something bigger. Something meant to end this whole conflict in one stroke.

"Yeah," I said. "Tommy said Callighan needed the battery to finish something. A weapon."

"What kind?"

"I don’t know exactly. But if he’s involved, and if Zakthar made it..." I let out a breath. "Then it’s probably Starakian."

Marlon’s face hardened right away.

That name alone was enough.

"Then we have even more reason to move first," he said.

I nodded.

Yeah.

It really was now or never.

If we waited too long and Callighan got his hands on whatever Zakthar was putting together, then taking the hotel wouldn’t matter. None of it would. We had to hit before they were ready, before that thing got finished, before the balance shifted so hard we couldn’t recover.

"I’ll talk to my group," I said, turning to go.

"Good."

I had already started toward the door when Marlon spoke again.

"And Ryan."

I looked back over my shoulder.

His eyes dropped, very lower.

"Touch my daughter," he said, "and I’ll make sure you can’t use it anymore."

I stared at him speechless for a moment hearing his threat of castration.

Spare me that!

That was, stupidly enough, one of my greatest powers.

Summer made a strangled sound that was half embarrassment and half outrage. "Dad!"

Marlon didn’t even blink.

I rubbed a hand over my face, already regretting having come through the back door, the front door, or maybe just at all. Then I headed for the entrance anyway before this got any worse, with Summer right behind me and Marlon’s threat still echoing in my skull in the most annoyingly way possible.