Page 10 of Beast in the Badlands
EMRY
M orning light seeps through the jagged gaps in the ceiling, casting slanted rays across the cracked floor.
I methodically check my med pack, fingers moving swiftly over the familiar items. I restock gauze and sealant, tighten the strap on my satchel.
Each action is a ritual, grounding me in this chaotic world.
As I focus, a low groan breaks the stillness behind me. I glance back to see Renn stirring on the med bed. His eyes snap open, sharp and alert—like a predator roused from sleep. I turn back to my supplies, pretending his gaze doesn’t rattle me.
“Where are you going?” His voice cuts through the air, rough and gravelly, like he’s just emerged from a long hibernation beneath layers of fatigue and pain.
I don’t pause in my meticulous work; I keep my hands moving, focused on the task at hand. “Back to the Coalition med zone,” I reply, my tone steady and resolute.
“What? Why?” The sharpness of his tone makes me look up once more, and I see him struggling to sit up, muscles taut and tense under the bandages that cling to his form like a second skin. The effort it takes to prop himself up is evident, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of concern for him.
“Supplies are low there,” I respond matter-of-factly, returning to my task of checking antiseptic vials for leaks and ensuring everything is in order for when I inevitably head back into the fray. “The people who stayed behind need me more than ever.”
His posture stiffens at my words, and I can see the shadows deepening around his eyes as he processes the implications of what I’ve just said.
“It’s dangerous.” The way he says it leaves no room for argument—a command laced with urgency, as if he believes that sheer will can shield me from the threats that lie beyond these walls.
I huff a laugh, though the air feels strained and brittle between us, a fragile thing that might shatter under the weight of our conversation.
“You think I don’t know that?” I challenge, my voice tinged with defiance.
I know the risks, the very real dangers that lurk in every corner of this war-torn world.
But the determination to help those in need outweighs the fear that threatens to creep in.
“You could get yourself killed,” he presses on, his expression darkening further as if contemplating some dire fate for me.
I set down a vial and face him fully now, hands on my hips as annoyance flares within me.
“And what would you have me do? Sit here and wait for someone else to take care of these people? They’re counting on me.
” I sigh, grabbing the the drone Renn smashed when he first woke up here.
"Besides, Fry needs to be repaired. Can't do it without his parts. "
His jaw clenches tight, revealing the tension that radiates off him like heat waves from a fire. “You’re not thinking clearly.” The concern undercuts his harsh words—fierce and possessive in a way that unnerves me.
I snap the flap shut on my med kit and turn to face him squarely. “I’ve been doing this job for longer than you've probably committed to anything—alone—and I can damn well handle myself.”
Renn pushes himself upright, muscles straining under the bandages, his jaw locked tight. “You shouldn’t go alone anymore.”
My voice softens only slightly, but my stance remains firm. “I don’t get to stop just because someone bigger decided to start hovering.”
He narrows his eyes, frustration radiating off him like heat.
I step closer, driven by a mixture of anger and concern. “If they see you coming, they’ll shoot first. No questions. You think they’ll just let a giant Reaper waltz in while they’re bleeding out on stretchers?”
His expression darkens further as I remind him of his condition. “You’re still injured, Renn. You can barely walk.” I gesture at the wrappings around his legs. “And your little stunt yesterday? It only worsened the torn muscle.”
He growls low in his throat, an animalistic sound that sends a chill through me. I brace myself against the edge of the table, defiant and unyielding.
“Don’t act like I’m some helpless child,” he snaps back, voice taut with barely restrained power. “You think I care about what they’ll do to me?”
“It’s not about that!” My frustration bubbles over as I step back, putting distance between us—a barrier against the tension crackling in the air. “It’s about survival! They’re not going to hesitate to pull a trigger if they think you’re a threat.”
Renn’s gaze hardens, but beneath it lurks something else—fear? Maybe even respect? It flickers in his red eyes like embers struggling to ignite.
“You want to protect me?” His tone shifts slightly; there’s curiosity there now.
“I want to protect everyone,” I reply sharply. “Including you.”
His brow furrows at my admission; it hangs between us like a weight.
“Look,” I soften again, trying for understanding rather than confrontation. “I appreciate your instincts to guard me, but right now? I can’t afford any distractions.”
That hits. I see it in the way Renn's shoulders tense, the subtle tightening that speaks louder than words. He doesn’t argue, but I can feel the storm brewing beneath his skin.
His breathing deepens, not from pain—but from restraint, as if he's fighting against some primal instinct to lunge after me.
We lock eyes, our stares hardening into a silent challenge. The air thickens between us, charged with an unspoken understanding and something more—a spark of connection that makes my heart race in ways I can’t afford to explore.
Finally, I break the stare, pushing aside whatever thoughts are crowding my mind. I sling my pack over my shoulder, feeling its familiar weight settle against my back like armor.
“I’ll come back.” I walk toward the door, refusing to look back at him. It’s easier this way—no distractions, no temptation to waver in my resolve. “Don’t burn the place down.”
I hear his sharp intake of breath as I step through the threshold. A part of me wants to linger, to gauge his reaction, but I keep moving forward, knowing that every moment spent here is a moment lost in a world still desperate for help.
Renn doesn’t respond. Just watches me disappear through the door, his hands curled into fists at his sides. I imagine him wrestling with his instincts—what it means for him to be here and how he feels about what we’ve started. But that’s not my concern right now.