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TCA TRAINING CAMP , four years ago.

Jonah didn’t know what the hell he was doing here.

The whole hiring process had been so secretive, he still wasn’t sure if he’d been hired or conscripted.

He had gone through more physical tests, background checks, and interviews than he ever had when he joined the fire department.

One day, he was fighting wildfires in the northern part of Colorado, and the next, he was standing in an empty, sterile conference room, wondering what kind of job required this level of scrutiny.

A man named Lucas had called his supervisor, not asking but telling him that Jonah was to join this new organization.

The request had come with an edge of urgency, as if Jonah had no real choice in the matter.

His supervisor hadn’t fought it, passed along the message like he’d been expecting it. “This isn’t really a request,” he’d advised. “You’re being reassigned. Effective immediately.”

Reassigned. That’s what they called it when they pulled you from one life and threw you into another.

He didn’t even have a clear picture of what this “new organization” was.

He was told it was classified, but the pay was too good to argue over the details.

The six figures they promised would go a long way toward helping his parents pay for his younger sister’s college tuition.

And the fact that his supervisor had looked genuinely nervous when he’d relayed the information made Jonah hesitate to ask too many questions. He’d learned a long time ago that when someone in charge was scared, it was best to play along until you knew what you were dealing with.

Now, he sat in a room full of strangers, trying to make sense of the situation.

The people around him weren’t like the firefighters he was used to—there was something different about them.

Some of them looked like they didn’t belong anywhere near a fire line, too young or too soft.

Others had the hard edges of soldiers or mercenaries.

But the common thread was the same hollow, questioning look in their eyes—none of them knew what the hell was going on either.

Then Lucas came into the room. He was polished and carried himself with a quiet authority that commanded attention without saying a word. His eyes swept across the group, evaluating, sizing them up before settling on Jonah.

“So, you’re the firefighter,” Lucas said, his tone flat, without a hint of a question.

Jonah met his gaze, unsure of what to say. "That’s right."

Lucas gave a curt nod, then turned back to the rest of the room. "Welcome to the Thermophile Control Agency. You've been selected because you possess unique skills, skills that will be put to the test in ways you’ve never imagined."

Jonah’s stomach twisted. He didn’t know what the TCA was or what kind of “thermophiles” they were supposed to control, but from the look in Lucas's eyes, this wasn’t going to be anything like fighting wildfires.

JONAH COULDN’T WRAP his head around it. Zombies.

Creatures straight out of a bad sci-fi novel or a cheesy 70s movie, only they were real.

The new recruits were told thermies burned their victims alive before eating their souls.

It may be a load of shit, and yet part of his training at the TCA was focused on what they called “disposal.”

They didn’t get into the details—there was a team for that—but it was enough.

Captured thermies were injected with an anesthetic and then burned.

“Disposal.” The word grated on him every time he heard it.

These weren’t creatures—they were people.

At least, they had been. But the TCA had a way of stripping that humanity, using terms like “creature” and “disposal” to make it easier to stomach.

For the greater good, they said. Thermies were too dangerous to live among normal people. They needed to be disposed of.

The night he first saw her, Jonah had been sitting with his roommates, listening to them laugh over a bet.

The winner, whoever captured the highest-ranking thermophile by the end of the year, would walk away with a thousand dollars.

Chump change compared to what the TCA paid, but enough to make someone forget that they were hunting people.

They had turned to him, waiting to see if he wanted in on the bet. Jonah stood up without a word, disgust churning in his gut. He left them behind and wandered through the halls, hours past curfew, unsure where he was going but knowing he couldn’t stay.

Jonah’s pulse quickened the moment he spotted one of his superiors down the hallway.

Without thinking, he ducked into the nearest room, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

His heart thudded in his chest as he took in his surroundings—a small library, dimly lit by the flickering glow of a fire.

Shelves of books lined the walls, and a large couch along with a couple of overstuffed armchairs formed a cozy little refuge.

It should’ve been comforting, but the warmth of the fire only reminded him of "disposal"—that cruel euphemism they used for what really happened to thermophiles.

A shiver crawled up his spine despite the heat.

Movement caught his eye. On one of the armchairs, a figure shifted.

And there she was. From where he stood, Jonah could only see her in profile.

Her short brown bob framed her face, the kind of cut that was practical, but still managed to look like it belonged in a high-fashion spread.

Her cheekbones were high, contrasting with the roundness of her face, and her nose had a slight crook.

She had an air of quiet defiance, as if the world had tried to break her, but she’d put herself back together stronger.

There was something sad about her, though, something that tugged at him in a way he wasn’t prepared to admit yet.

She scowled at a book in her lap, her thin upper lip caught between her teeth. Behind her sunglasses, her expression was unreadable, but the tension in her body made her frustration clear.

He swallowed, not sure why he felt nervous. “Haven’t seen you before,” he blurted out, cringing inwardly at his awkwardness.

She didn’t even flinch. For how silent the room had been, she didn’t seem startled by his sudden presence. Instead, she glanced up with a weary look. “New recruit?”

“Couple weeks in,” he confirmed with a nod, trying to sound casual.

“I’m in a different program,” she said, her tone as sharp as the crackle of the fire. She didn’t elaborate, turning her attention back to her book as if the conversation was already over.

She was a closed door. He wanted to keep knocking. “I’m Jonah,” he offered, stepping forward and sticking out his hand.

Her head tilted slightly, her sunglasses still shielding her eyes. She gave him a slow, assessing look, her eyes flicking from his face to his clothes and then back again. He fought the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. Was she judging him? Or just... disinterested?

Then, without warning, she snorted—a soft, amused sound that had her hand flying up to cover her face. She zeroed in on his SpongeBob pajama pants, a last-minute gift from his sister. He glanced down and grimaced.

“What are those?” she asked, her tone walking the line between disbelief and humor.

“SpongeBob,” Jonah replied, deciding to own it. Confidence was the only way to salvage this.

She cocked her head to the side, a sad smile playing on her lips. It was the first real hint of emotion he’d seen from her, and it threw him off.

“Like the cartoon?” he said, more carefully this time. Her reaction confused him—what was behind that smile? Before he could figure it out, she extended her hand.

“Ruby.”

Her name suited her, sharp but beautiful. He shook her hand, surprised by her firm grip. Stronger than he’d expected, but it also suited her. Hell, she was the kind of woman that everything suited. “What are you doing in here, Ruby?” Her name fit in his mouth like it had always belonged there.

She lifted the book in her lap slightly, not bothering to glance at him. “Reading,” she said simply.

Jonah grinned, sinking into the couch across from her. “Mind if I join you?”

Her lips twitched, like she was holding back a smirk. “Do you read?”

“Yeah. I mean... I know how,” he joked, grinning wider.

Her cheeks tinged pink, and he had to bite back a laugh at the tiny victory. “I would hope so. I meant, do you like to read?”

No.

“Yup.”

She gave him that same calculating look, as if weighing his words for truth. Eventually, she sighed and sank deeper into the chair. “Can’t stop you, then.”

He grabbed a book at random and settled in, trying to focus on the words in front of him, but his mind kept wandering back to her.

There was something about Ruby that intrigued him, something he couldn’t put into words.

Maybe it was her quiet strength or the way she seemed so utterly alone despite the fact that they were in the same program, in the same building.

They fell into a rhythm after that. Night after night, they’d find themselves in the library, sometimes talking, sometimes sitting in comfortable silence, lost in their books.

She didn’t wear the sunglasses again, and though Jonah noticed the thick layer of pale makeup around her eyes, he never asked about it.

He was learning to navigate the unspoken boundaries she set, but that only made him more curious.

Who was Ruby, really? What had she been through?

Sometimes, her speech would slip, phrases outdated and strange, like echoes of a different time. He chalked it up to some social media trend he hadn’t caught onto. Until the night she showed up with a brand-new cellphone and a look of complete bewilderment.

“I don’t know what any of this means,” she confessed, holding up the device like it was a foreign object.