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Once they understand me.

“Maple?” Evan’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

I blink.

He’s watching me again. A little too closely.

“Are there more here?” His lips twitch. “More bags of lentils?”

I grin. “Not yet,” I say sweetly. “Soon.”

His jaw clenches.

And I can see it happening. The moment the realization clicks in his head.

That this wasn’t random.

That I have a plan.

That he’s not going to be the only one.

And God, I love watching him process it.

His eyes narrow, just a little. Not angry. Just... working through the implications like a man solving a puzzle that doesn’t make sense on paper but definitely does in a bunker built by a prepper girlfriend with questionable boundaries and excellent taste in mattresses.

“You gonna tell me what flavor the next lentil is?” he asks, voice low, casual, but there’s that edge. Like he’s trying not to care. Like it’s not killing him to imagine someone else down here.

I smile. “He’s a mechanic.”

Evan blinks. “Seriously?”

“Mm-hmm.” I pop the last fry into my mouth and wipe my fingers on a napkin. “Real good with his hands. Fixes up old engines, builds things from scratch, even rewired an entire house once.”

“Sounds useful,” Evan mutters, but he’s watching me too closely now. Like he’s looking for the catch.

“He’s very useful,” I say, just to see his jaw twitch. “Strong. Knows how to take things apart and put them back together again.”

Evan raises an eyebrow. “You gonna let him help me escape?”

I laugh. “You’re not a prisoner.”

He gives me a look.

I lean forward in the chair, resting my elbows on my knees, all casual, all warmth. “You’re an investment. And you’re going to be very well cared for.”

He eyes the plate and empty cup like Exhibit A.

“If you behave,” I continue, “And all else goes well, you’ll get company soon.”

His brow lifts. “If I behave?”

“You’re not the only one with standards, Doctor Wolfe,” I tease. “There’s a vetting process, you know. Just like you wouldn’t jump into surgery without scrubbing in, I’m not just tossing you boys into a pit and hoping for the best.”

“That’s… comforting?” he says, though he still looks like he hasn’t decided if I’m a cult leader or just a really proactive girlfriend.

I stand and stretch, deliberately slow. He watches. Of course he does. He’s still a man. And I’m still the woman who handpicked him, who’s going to feed him, fuck him, and keep him alive while the world falls apart.

“I’ll lock the door from the outside tonight,” I say, brushing my hands off. “But your bathroom is stocked, your water’s clean, and your clothes are folded on the chair. Tomorrow, if you’re good, you can spend some time in the main rooms.”