Chapter 25: Extreme

The car shell creaked and groaned in its grip like a flimsy tin toy.

Through a gap in the truck bed, May caught sight of that enormous black silhouette. Fear hadn’t even had time to register before a sharp cramp twisted through her abdomen and she instinctively shrank back a step.

The car slipped free.

It came down with a rush of air sharp enough to tear the atmosphere itself.

Clang—!

The entire heavy truck slammed flat against the ground under the impact. The side armor plate of the cargo bed screamed as the metal reached its breaking point and caved inward in a massive dent.

May couldn’t keep her footing. The abdominal pain and the shock hit at the same time; her knees buckled and she toppled backward. The collapsed plate, trailing shards of metal, dropped toward her like a lid. That dense black shadow swallowed every last bit of light.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Suddenly the ground beneath her vanished—then solidified again.

Someone slid in from the side in a low sweep, one arm locking hard around her waist. He flipped them both halfway over and pulled her tight against his chest. The back of her head struck a scorching-hot expanse of muscle; her nose filled with the mix of gunpowder and sweat that clung to Mitch.

He kept his own back to the sky, using his entire skeleton as a shield over her. Shards of metal slammed into his spine. He let out a low grunt but only tightened his hold.

Pinned in that position, May couldn’t move an inch. They were pressed together with almost no space left between them. She could feel every fine tremor running through Mitch’s body—not fear, but the high-speed contraction of muscles after an adrenaline explosion.

Then she noticed a fatal detail.

His other hand—the one that had started out cupping the back of her head to protect it—had shifted with the momentum of the roll. It now rested squarely, firmly, over her chest. The heat of his palm burned straight through the fabric into her skin.

Both of them went rigid at the same instant. Mitch’s rough, scorching breath washed over the top of her head.

"You..."

May’s face burned crimson. The words squeezed out of her throat, thin and hoarse.

"Mitch... your hand."

"Shut up."

The two syllables ground out between his teeth, rough and broken. Yet his hand stayed welded in place—neither pulling away nor pressing harder.

Creak—

On the other side, Jack rose like an enraged bull.

"Go! I’ll hold it!"

From the cab came the deafening crash of metal tearing apart. Ray kicked the warped door clean off its hinges, jumped down, shouldered the Barrett, and put a single round into the nearest special infected that had already climbed onto the hood.

Bang—

The upper half of the creature simply ceased to exist.

"Everyone out!"

Ray’s roar cut through the zombie tide.

"Fall back to the supermarket—now!"

Ace moved first. He vaulted over the side of the truck bed, three fist-sized metal lumps already in his hands. He smiled toward the densest part of the horde, peach-blossom eyes curved in an almost gentle expression—then tossed the three objects with casual ease.

Boom—boom—boom—

Three successive fireballs erupted in the middle of the swarm. Chunks of flesh and black blood flew high into the air, carving out a three-meter-wide gap.

Everyone scrambled through that opening and poured into the supermarket.

"Move."

Ray yanked open the entrance to the underground passage and barked at the others.

It was a narrow, stifling metal corridor slanted at a steep forty-five-degree angle, so dark that even an outstretched hand vanished. It looked like the open maw of some monster.

Jack slid in first.

"Hurry."

Mitch still had May locked against him. He glanced back at the Tyrant closing in, spat a curse, and jumped in after the others while still holding her.

The sudden freefall made May’s stomach lurch into her throat. She screamed. Pure survival instinct took over; she latched onto Mitch’s sweat- and gunpowder-scented neck like a startled octopus, wrapping herself around him completely.

Worst of all—her legs, flailing for any stable point, instinctively locked around the lean, powerful sides of his waist. The softest skin on the inside of her knees settled exactly against the hard ridges of muscle just below his abs... right there.

They hit bottom. Mitch took the full force on his back, slamming onto the rough concrete.

"Ugh."

A pained grunt escaped him.

May landed fully on top of him, the fit so precise she barely suffered a bruise despite the impact. The passage was pitch-black and the air thin enough to choke on. Overhead came the thunder of the Tyrant smashing through concrete and the frenzied howls of the horde.

None of it compared to the drum-like heartbeat hammering beneath her.

Every one of Mitch’s senses sharpened to an almost painful degree. He could hear the woman’s rapid, warm breaths spilling unchecked across his rolling Adam’s apple and the side of his neck. He could smell the faint sweetness in her hair, mixed with the blood scent on his own body into a catalyst that made his scalp prickle.

The cold, precise calm of a top-tier sniper short-circuited completely. His mind went blank. Every scrap of attention fixed on the two soft, warm legs wrapped around his waist... and the place they pressed against.

Every muscle in his body locked stone-hard.

And one particular area... even more so.

Fuck, he thought. This is worse than getting stepped on by the Tyrant.

May stayed frozen on top of him, stuck between the urge to scramble off and the need to apologize for the "secret" she had just accidentally discovered.

Right on cue, the cold mechanical voice sounded inside her head.

[Ding.]

[Heart rate of Strategy Target No. 5 "Mitch" has exceeded maximum threshold. Strong physical dependence and absolute protective instinct detected.]

[Ambiguous tension rating: Excellent.]

[Reward points +100.]

[Current total points: 410.]

The position was lethal. She could feel every carved muscle beneath her—especially the unmistakable hardness pressing against the soft skin on the inside of her knee.

Oh my god.

Mitch, isn’t that reaction a little extreme?

Mitch felt like he was about to detonate.

Reason screamed at him to shove the reckless little thing off him immediately. Yet her sweet scent filled his nose, and every inch of his skin burned with a strange, scalp-tingling hunger. Those legs locked around his waist were soft and smooth, almost boneless. Every tiny shift tugged hard on the last thread of his self-control.

Gulp.

In the darkness, a clear swallow sounded—Mitch’s. The roll of his throat was loud as thunder in the dead-silent passage.

Just as the air between them threatened to catch fire—

Boom—!