Page 16 of Beast in the Badlands
EMRY
I blink against the soft morning light filtering through the cracks in the med bay ceiling. My body aches, a dull reminder of the weariness that lingers beneath my skin. I sit up slowly, feeling the crisp bandages hugging my limbs. I’m clean, and for once, I don’t smell like smoke and sweat.
The warmth of Renn’s chest flashes through my mind—how solid he felt, how safe. It tugs at something deep inside me. I rub my eyes and push myself off the cot, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess.
A few steps bring me to the small, makeshift kitchen area, where I hear him moving around. The sounds of pots clanging together pull me in like a moth to a flame.
He limps as he moves, favoring one leg over the other, and my heart clenches at the sight.
The way he shifts his weight, a subtle grimace crossing his features, reminds me of just how fragile he still is despite his fierce demeanor.
He’s trying to cook something—whatever it is, it’s probably a disaster waiting to happen—but it’s strangely endearing to watch him attempt to create something edible in this decrepit space.
“Hey,” I say, my voice rough from sleep as I lean against the doorframe, taking in the scene.
He glances up, his expression caught in a delicate balance between relief and irritation. “Next time you vanish, I’m chaining you to the bed,” he says, the words laced with a hint of playful exasperation.
I can’t help but smile at his gruffness, the way he tries to mask his concern with sarcasm.
The tension hanging between us feels heavier than ever, thick with unspoken words and emotions that simmer just beneath the surface.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, I reach for a stale protein bar from my satchel and toss it at him.
It hits his shoulder with a dull thud and bounces to the floor. His reflexes, honed from years of combat and survival, kick in as he instinctively catches it mid-fall, a small triumph in the midst of our grim reality. He shoots me a mock glare, one that’s both irritated and amused at my antics.
“Really?” he says, raising an eyebrow, but I can see the corners of his mouth twitching as he struggles to suppress a grin creeping onto his lips. The sight of him, even in this rundown med bay, brings a warmth to my chest that I can’t quite shake off.
“Survival food,” I reply with mock seriousness. “Gotta make sure you stay fueled for all that hard work.”
Renn laughs—a low rumble that fills the small space with warmth. The sound wraps around us like a blanket, banishing any remnants of awkwardness lingering in the air.
I watch Renn maneuver around the makeshift kitchen, a curious mix of clumsiness and determination. The way he hobbles reminds me that he’s still injured, but there’s a certain stubborn pride in his movements that makes me shake my head.
“Look at you, all domestic,” I say, taking a bite of the protein bar. “What happened to the fearsome Reaper? You walking around like this is your new home.”
He pauses, turning to face me with that sharp glare of his. “You left me behind. I had no choice.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t suppress a smile. “Guess you’re right about that one.”
“Damn straight.” He returns to stirring whatever mess he’s concocting. The scent wafts through the air—definitely not gourmet but oddly comforting in this rundown place.
“Not half bad,” I say between chews, keeping my voice light. But the truth weighs heavier on my mind than the food settles in my stomach.
He glances over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “You’re welcome.”
As I chew thoughtfully, my thoughts drift back to the Coalition site. The weight of it all hangs over me like a storm cloud threatening to break at any moment.
“Renn…” My voice falters for just a moment as I consider how to frame this without spilling all my fears at once. “Things aren’t great at the Coalition camp.”
His expression shifts—an immediate seriousness floods his features as he puts down the spoon and leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.
“They’re losing,” I continue, forcing myself to look him in the eye. “We’ve lost entire sectors.”
He stays silent, fists tightening slightly against his forearms as he absorbs what I’m saying.
“The Coalition abandoned us,” I say, frustration lacing each word. “They came here for resources and left us with their mess when they couldn’t win.”
“Vestra is your home,” he says softly.
I nod, swallowing hard as anger wells up inside me again. “Yeah, and they used it as a battlefield—an afterthought in their war plans.”
“What do you mean?” He tilts his head slightly, genuinely curious.
“They thought they could extract resources and just leave us behind when things got tough,” I snap. “I was here when they first arrived—the promises they made about protecting us from harm.”
The bitterness rises within me like bile as memories flash before my eyes: families torn apart by explosions; children crying amidst rubble; promises that turned hollow under fire and ash.
“I stayed behind because I thought we’d fight together,” I continue, quieter now but no less fierce. “But it’s every man for himself out there now.”
Renn's gaze hardens as he listens intently. His posture reflects a blend of tension and concern that only deepens my frustration.
“You think they’ll send help?” I scoff, shaking my head incredulously. “They’ve left us to rot while they chase shadows elsewhere—what makes you think they’ll come back? They’ve already written us off.”
Renn’s jaw tightens further at my words; it’s like watching metal bend under pressure without breaking.
“And if we lose this place…” My voice drops lower now as if saying it aloud will make it more real. “If there isn’t even an evac window left…”
A muscle in his jaw ticks—a sign of control beneath that surface calm—but he doesn’t interrupt me.
“It won’t be long before factions start fighting over whatever remains,” I finish with a sigh heavy enough to drown out hope.
Still, he stands there quietly absorbing every word like some kind of fortress while I unravel before him.