Chapter 138: Chapter 138 - A Pact
They walked along the pavement, the air noticeably chillier now that the sun had fully dropped. Solar streetlights lined the road at steady intervals, casting pale white pools of light that barely reached the edges of the sidewalks.
Most of the buildings around them were dark.
Windows empty. Doors shut. Signs faded.
Years of passing through places like this had trained her eyes to search automatically for movement behind glass, for shadows where there shouldn’t be any, for blocked exits. Even when a zone was declared clear, even when guards patrolled the perimeter, her body never fully believed it.
She glanced at a second floor window across the street.
Nothing.
Still, a shiver ran through her.
Too many buildings in the past had looked harmless from the outside. Too many had turned into traps with walkers inside and no clean way out.
She rubbed her arms once, more out of habit than cold.
Malcolm noticed.
"Clear," he said quietly.
She nodded.
"I know."
But she still scanned the doorways. Still checked the alleys. Still counted distances to possible escape routes. Safety had never meant comfort.
The solar lights hummed faintly overhead.
Their footsteps echoed more than they should have on an empty street.
And in that hollow quiet, the conversation about mutation felt heavier than it had inside the church.
"If I get bitten," Iyisha said at last, eyes forward, "what would you do?"
He didn’t answer.
She kept walking, watching a dark storefront as they passed.
"If I start showing signs. If I get infected, what will you do?"
Nothing.
The fence behind them rattled softly in the wind.
"Would you wait?" she asked. "Or just put a bullet in me?"
He glanced at her briefly.
"I’d restrain you first."
She frowned.
"Restrain?"
"Hands. Feet. Somewhere contained."
"You’d tie me up?"
"Yes."
There was no pause in it.
"And then what?"
"Watch or drag you around."
"For how long?"
"As long as it takes."
"You’re insane."
"It would work," he replied.
She glanced at him sideways, amused, and this time she didn’t look away immediately. She watched him.
He kept his expression neutral for a second too long.
Then she saw it.
A flicker in his eyes. A restrained shift at the corner of his mouth.
Not cold.
Not calculating.
Amused.
Her giggle slipped out before she could stop it.
"Wait," she said, turning more fully toward him while still walking. "You’re joking."
Her laughter softened into something warmer, more private.
"Malcolm," she murmured, shaking her head. "You’re unbelievable."
"You asked," he said simply.
That almost made her laugh again.
She studied him for another second, the chill in the air forgotten. She had never seen that expression aimed at anyone else. Not light. Not teasing. Not even close.
It did something to her chest.
"You’d actually drag me around?" she pressed, smiling.
"If you weren’t biting," he said, voice dry.
She laughed again, closer this time, shoulder brushing his as they walked under the pale solar lights.
The empty street didn’t feel as hollow anymore.
And for a moment, just a moment, she saw him differently.
Not just the cold, steady man who calculated survival first.
But the one who would tie her up instead of shooting her.
Who would watch.
Who would drag her around before giving up.
It was absurd.
And somehow, it felt like care.
They walked under another pool of solar light.
"And if I turn?" she asked.
He stopped.
The light cut across his face, sharp and pale.
He didn’t step closer. Didn’t soften.
"I’d kill you," he said.
No weight. No emotion.
Just fact.
Her chest tightened, but she held his gaze.
"Good," she replied quietly. "I’d kill you too."
His jaw shifted once.
A small nod.
Agreement.
Contract.
She stopped walking.
The laughter thinned out, leaving something heavier in its place.
Before she could think too long about it, she caught his shirt and pulled him down.
She kissed him.
There was no rush in it, no joke behind it. Her mouth moved against his slowly at first, like she was grounding herself, like she needed to feel the exact shape of him under her lips.
The world narrowed to the warmth of his mouth and the steady pressure of his body against hers.
His hand came to her waist automatically, firm and certain, fingers pressing into her as if anchoring her there. He answered her without hesitation, deepening the kiss, drawing her closer until there was no space left between them.
Her chest tightened.
She hadn’t meant for it to feel like this.
It wasn’t just heat.
It was the way he held her without asking what this was.
The way he didn’t pull back.
The way he always chose presence over words.
Her fingers slid up along his jaw, brushing the rough stubble there, memorizing the feel of it. He exhaled softly against her mouth, breath mixing with hers, and for a moment she forgot the church, the mutation talk, the dark buildings around them.
She only knew that she felt alive.
And that he was right here.
When she finally broke the kiss, her breathing was uneven. She searched his face, something unsettled and bright in her eyes.
He was watching her the way he always did.
Steady.
Focused.
But closer now.
And she realized, quietly and without permission, that this mattered more than she had allowed herself to admit.
He looked at her the same way he always did.
"You done?" he asked quietly.
She almost laughed.
She didn’t answer.
Instead she pulled him down again.
He stopped immediately.
This time he didn’t just allow it.
He took over.
His mouth came down on hers harder, hungrier, like something in him had finally decided to stop holding back. One hand gripped her waist, firm and unyielding, while the other slid up to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, holding her exactly where he wanted her.
The kiss shifted.
His lips moved against hers with intent, and when she parted slightly for breath, his tongue brushed into her mouth, slow at first, then deeper, claiming space.
Her breath hitched.
She felt it everywhere.
The warmth of him.
The solid weight of his body pressing her.
The rough scrape of his stubble against her skin.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, dragging him closer, needing more of him, more contact, more proof that this was real.
He pressed her back until her shoulders met the wall fully. Not violent. Not careless. Just enough to pin her there with his body, to leave no room between them.
She arched into him instinctively.
His mouth moved from her lips to the corner of her jaw, then back again, slower now but no less intense. His hand tightened at her waist, sliding slightly lower, thumb pressing into her hip as if testing the shape of her there.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
She tasted him.
Felt him.
The steady heat radiating through his clothes into hers.
When she tried to pull back for air, he followed, lips chasing hers, tongue brushing once more before finally allowing the space.
They broke apart only because oxygen forced it.
Her breathing was uneven, shallow, her lips swollen from the pressure.
His chest rose and fell heavier than before.
But his eyes were darker now.
Focused.
Hungry.
And she felt it all the way down to her bones.
