Page 15 of Glass Rose (Where Roses Rot #1)

TEN

GAVIN

John ladles the stew for dinner into mismatched bowls like he’s performed this ritual a thousand times before. Alex dives right in, Dr. Cho takes her time, Marcus observes her, and Sofia takes her bowl with a mumbled thanks.

The stew with root vegetables and some kind of wild rice is better than it has any right to be. I shovel it into my mouth, needing the energy. My body burns through calories faster since they injected me, another “gift” from Green Research.

Sofia hovers with her spoon above the stew, trembling before dropping back to the table. This afternoon, she barely ate anything as well. My own appetite vanishes, but I force myself to eat anyway.

Never waste food, no matter what.

That’s what Ethan used to say. Did they survive? Dante? Walsh? Liv?

The island compound was our fallback plan if we had to disappear—remote, defensible, stocked with enough supplies to last months. They should be there.

“You military?” John asks, eyes on me.

“Private contractor. ”

“Ah.” He nods like that explains everything. “Thought so. Way you move, way you watch everything. Got that look.”

“What look is that?” Sofia finally takes a small bite.

“Like he’s waiting for something to crash,” John says. “Like he’s seen enough shit to know exactly how bad things can get.”

“Seen my share,” I say. “Nothing like this though.”

The island is about thirty miles north of here.

Close enough to reach, far enough to be isolated from the initial outbreak.

If the team followed protocol, they’d be there now, waiting for a radio signal on our emergency frequency.

I tried again before dinner, but no answer.

I’ll try again tonight when everyone’s asleep.

“Sleeping arrangements.” John wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Marcus and I bunk in the office area. Got three campers for you four.”

Dr. Cho sets down her spoon. “I’d prefer my own accommodations, if possible.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” John nods. “Take your pick of the campers. They’re all about the same—bed, bathroom, little kitchenette.”

“I’ll take the one on the left,” she says promptly.

Alex grins, his eyes flicking between Sofia and me. “I’ll take the middle one. Guess that leaves you two lovebirds to share.”

Sofia’s pulse kicks up, and her cheeks flush pink, warming her way too pale olive skin. She doesn’t look at me. At least the sadness is gone for now.

“Problem?” I ask. We still have some unfinished business.

“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s… fine.”

Sharing a camper opens so many possibilities.

“Excellent.” John claps his hands together. “Now, security. This place is locked down tight, but we still need a watch rotation. Four hours each, three people per night. That gives everyone a full night off every fourth day. ”

“I’ll take first watch tonight.” Perfect opportunity to try the radio again.

“Man after my own heart,” John says. “Alright, Gavin first watch, then me, then Marcus. We’ll rotate the rest of you in tomorrow.”

Dr. Cho frowns. “What exactly are your security protocols? We need rules. For example, do we go outside alone? Only in pairs? Who is responsible for what?”

“Do you need to plan and organize everything?” Alex rolls his eyes. “We’re in the middle of the apocalypse, not setting up a business or whatever.”

“Interesting.” Dr. Cho’s expression doesn’t change, but her spine straightens another impossible inch. “I only hear you complaining, yet I don’t see you contributing anything useful.”

Alex grinds his teeth, that I-want-to-punch-him-in-the-face smile nowhere in sight.

“Structure keeps people alive,” Marcus says. “I’ve seen what happens when panic sets in, and nobody knows who’s in charge. Dr. Cho is right.”

“Sure, whatever.” Alex shrugs. “Let’s make a chore wheel while we’re at it. I call dibs on the fun jobs.”

Sofia observes this exchange like she’s tracking a tennis match, spoon suspended halfway to her mouth. Her eyes meet mine briefly, then dart away. Is she embarrassed or regretting our little exchange between the shelves?

John scrapes his bowl clean. “Rules are simple. Nobody goes outside alone. Nobody makes noise that could draw attention. Everybody contributes. Food prep, inventory, security. You don’t pull your weight, you don’t eat.”

Dr. Cho nods, satisfied. Alex doesn’t argue.

John rummages through his pockets and holds up a handful of small flashlights. “Everyone takes one. Always. Power goes out, you don’t want to be fumbling in the dark when those things are around.”

He tosses them across the table. Mine lands with a solid thunk. Military grade. Black anodized aluminum with a strike bezel.

“Batteries are fresh.” John flicks his on to demonstrate. “Three settings—high, low, and?—”

The beam hits my eyes directly. White light explodes behind my retinas.

—strapped to the chair, electrodes pasted to my temples and chest, metal cold against my wrists, ankles. Blinding light in my face.

“Subject Seven, describe your symptoms.” Someone hovers above me.

Light so bright I can’t see him, just feel the needle sliding into my arm.

“Increase intensity by twenty percent.” It’s Dr. Webb. “Let’s see how much he can take.”

Colors spiral and pulse, drilling into my brain. Sound, light, smell, everything is amplified beyond human tolerance.

“Increased heart rate, pupil dilation, heightened cortisol. Note the time. Up another fifteen percent.”

Pain spreads through my veins like fire. My muscles seize, straining against the restraints. Blood drips from my nose, metallic on my tongue.

“Sir, his vitals are spiking dangerously. He’s clearly in pain,” Sofia protests. “We should ? —”

“Push it further,” Webb says. “We need to know his threshold. This is what he was made for.”

“Gavin?” Sofia’s voice sounds like she’s speaking through glass.

The world whites out, my consciousness flickering like a dying bulb. My body convulses, and alarms blare as my heart stutters in my chest .

Then warmth—unexpected, human warmth against my skin.

Reality snaps back like a rubber band. The warehouse. The dinner table. Sofia’s hands holding mine, her fingers massaging my palm.

“—really impressive setup,” Alex says. “Ever consider putting some of this on film? People eat this prepper stuff up.”

I blink. Force air into my lungs. Her pulse beats, steady and strong, something real to anchor to.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asks.

“What?”

“Mine’s blue.” She glances up at me, her thumbs working in small circles. “Dark blue, like the ocean at night.”

“Brown.” I focus on her eyes. “Dark brown, like coffee before you add anything to it.”

They widen slightly, those beautiful coffee-colored irises locked on mine. Her fingers pause their movement against my palm.

“Brown, huh?” Her voice is low, private. “Not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Gray, maybe.”

John glances over, oblivious to what just happened. “Everything okay over there?”

“Fine.” Sofia recoils, withdrawing her hands from mine.

The absence feels wrong.

“Just tired.” I pick up the flashlight.

“You sure about the watch?” Marcus asks.

I nod.

“We’ll start at midnight,” John says. “Meet me in the office.”

“Copy that,” I say.

“Well, I’m beat.” Alex stretches. “Think I’ll turn in. Got to preserve my strength for the zombie apocalypse, right? ”

“Such a commitment to survival,” Dr. Cho says.

“Hey, sleep is important,” Alex says. “Plus, I need to check my footage, make sure I got everything from today.”

“Dishes in the tub.” John rises from his seat. “We conserve water, so they’ll get washed in batches.”

“And don’t you dare post anything,” Dr. Cho adds.

Everyone stands, gathering bowls and utensils.

Sofia moves closer to me, her shoulder brushing against mine. “What happened?”

“Later.” Not here, not with everyone listening.

She nods, accepting the deferral but not abandoning the question. This is what makes her dangerous—she doesn’t look away, doesn’t let things slide.

Alex retreats to his assigned camper, camera clutched protectively to his chest. Dr. Cho follows shortly after, nodding curtly to us all before disappearing into her own temporary home.

Sofia yawns, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Actually, I’m exhausted, too. Which one is ours again?”

“The one on the right.” John points.

“Thanks.” She bows her head. “For everything. The food, the shelter… It’s more than we could have hoped for.”

John’s weathered face softens. “World’s gone to shit. Least we can do is be decent to each other while it happens.”

I nod to him, man to man, soldier to soldier. “We’ll pull our weight. Count on it.”

“Never doubted it,” he says. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out a more permanent arrangement.”

The distance between the main area and the camper is short, but with each step, the reality of what awaits becomes clearer—shared space, shared bed, shared night.

I could be the gentleman and let her take the bed alone, get a sleeping bag and lie somewhere else in this warehouse, but… fuck that. She wants me, and I want her .

The monster inside me snarls, wanting to take advantage, to claim what’s so willingly offered. But the man I’m fighting to remain keeps it leashed, content for now with this simple human connection.

Behind us, John and Marcus begin discussing watch rotations and ammunition inventory, their voices fading as we reach the camper door. I place my hand on the small of Sofia’s back as she climbs the two metal steps, guiding her inside our sanctuary.

Who knows what might happen?

“It’s… cozy,” Sofia says.

I close the door. “One way to put it.”

The bed takes up the entire back section. The same bed she slept in this afternoon. She looked so peaceful, her frantic heartbeat calm, when I brought her the bottle of water.

She opens a few cabinets, examining the contents. “They really do have everything. Look. Toothbrushes, still packaged. And towels.”