Chapter 73: Does That Make Me Your Woman?

She finally turned around.

The gray top shifted with her, and she let it. She had known he was looking. She had known it in the mirror, in the way his eyes stuck on the heavy curve of her breasts under the clean fabric, on the line of her waist, on the long legs the pants didn’t bother to hide. She had taken her time with the towel on purpose.

"You done?"

Ethan coughed. "Yeah."

"No, you weren’t."

"I was thinking."

"About what?"

"Your... new clothes."

Sasha held his eyes. Hers narrowed, not angry. Amused. A little mean in the way a woman is mean when she already has the answer.

"You’re terrible at lying."

He sighed. "Fine." He looked at the wall, then gave up and looked at her. The damp hair. The full press of her chest against the shirt she’d borrowed from him. "You look good."

A faint smile. She tipped her head, and the neckline moved just enough to show the soft inner swell of one breast before it settled again. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"That’s better."

Ethan decided the room had won. Teleportation took her before she could enjoy it any longer. Space twisted. She vanished from the Survival Space and came back beside him, blinking, one hand still on the strap of nothing.

"We’re out already?"

"We’re leaving tonight." His voice had changed. "Underground shelter. Safer than this room, and I don’t want to be here if that thing doubles back." He paused. "You can come."

She studied him. "And if I don’t?"

"Supplies. Enough for a while. You pick the street."

She didn’t need the while. "I’ll go."

"That fast?"

A shrug. "I’m not stupid." She nodded at the place the entrance had been. "You’ve got a room that holds people, food, water, medicine, weapons. And I already know it exists."

His face went a degree more serious. She saw it. The smile stayed, smaller.

"Would you really let me walk after that?"

He didn’t answer.

"Exactly." She picked up her backpack from the corner. "So I come with you." The strap settled on her shoulder. She looked at him straight. "One thing I want clear."

"What?"

"If I stay, does that make me your woman?"

The question landed clean. He stared. She didn’t look away. Color in her cheeks, yes. No retreat in it.

He liked the honesty more than he expected. "Yes." A beat. "If that’s what you want."

She watched him for a few seconds. Then the smile came back, warmer. "Why wouldn’t I?" She adjusted the strap. "You’re strong. You got me out of that room. You haven’t treated me like a prize." The playful edge returned, light, dangerous. "And the city isn’t exactly full of better offers."

He shook his head. "You don’t hesitate."

"What’s the point?" The shrug this time was quieter. "The world already took most of the things people used to stall over. If we’re going to live, I’d rather say what I want out loud."

He looked at her. In the old life that conversation took months. The apocalypse had no months. Survival first. Trust if you could find it. The rest followed whoever was still standing.

They left under dark that hadn’t decided to become morning. Ethan took the back streets, not the way they’d come. He didn’t want the Tiger King’s street. For nearly an hour they didn’t talk. Broken cars. Shops with their glass kicked in. A traffic light over an empty crossing, red blinking at no one, the housing swinging a little in a wind that smelled of ash.

Sasha stopped. "Wait."

He stopped. She lifted a finger. "Listen."

Nothing. Then a screech, thin and far. Another. Bats. A roar rolled over the roofs after them, low, furious, the kind of sound that made the alley feel smaller. The Tiger King. Crashes followed. A scream that didn’t last. Something in the residential blocks was still stupid enough, or trapped enough, to fight it.

Ethan let the breath out. "It worked."

"The shower?"

"The shower." He glanced toward the noise and didn’t turn them toward it. "It hasn’t found us."

"Then we don’t give it a second chance."

They kept walking. Neither looked back. Behind them the roar came again, and the bats answered, and the city ate the rest.

By two in the morning the library stood up out of the dark, windows broken, front doors hanging open like a mouth. Ethan led her through the silent halls to the hidden stretch of wall and knocked. Three short. A pause. Two more.

Nothing.

Sasha looked at him. He waited.

A voice, careful, on the other side. "Who is it?"

"Ethan."

Silence. Then concrete scraped. The hidden door opened.

Penny stood in it with a fruit knife. Relief hit her face so fast it almost hurt. "Ethan."

Then her eyes went past him.

Sasha. Clean clothes. Wet hair dried into loose waves. Long legs. The gray top still doing an honest job of outlining her chest. The relief thinned. Penny’s hand tightened on the knife.

"Who’s she?"

Two smaller faces pushed in behind her before he could answer. Maya first. Then Lana. They saw him and came anyway.

"Ethan!"

"You came back!"

Lana still had the rag doll under one arm. She caught his shirt in her fist. "We thought you weren’t."

He crouched. A hand on each head, brief, steady. "I’m here." He opened the storage and set a jar of fruit cocktail in Penny’s hands. "Brought this."

She stared at the jar. Then at him. "Where did you get it?"

"Does it matter?"

She hesitated. She took it.

He stepped aside. "This is Sasha Velez. Sasha, Penny Eira. Maya and Lana."

Sasha’s smile was polite, not small. "Nice to meet you."

Penny nodded once. Her attention went back to him. "You’re hurt?"

"No."

She searched his face. "You were gone a long time."

"Ran into trouble." He touched his hair, still damp at the roots. "I’m fine."

That seemed to be enough. She moved out of the door. "Come in."

The shelter was small and warm. Bunks against the walls. Blankets. Food stacked neat in the corners, the kind of neat that meant someone was afraid of wasting an inch. Ethan nodded at an empty bunk. "That one’s yours."

"Thanks." Sasha set the pack down and started on the bedding.

He watched a second too long. Then he caught Penny doing the same thing, not at Sasha’s face. At her legs. Penny looked down at herself. At Sasha. She tugged the hem of her jeans and pretended she hadn’t.

Ethan almost smiled. He kept it.

He was about to lie down when the static came.

Krrrzzzt.

He froze. The sound was inside the Temporary Storage. The walkie-talkie. He pulled it out so fast the antenna clicked.

"Hello?" Thumb on the button. "Who is this?"

Static. A few seconds of it. Then a woman’s voice, strained, close to breaking.

"Ethan?"

His face changed.

"Ethan, is that you? I’m—"

The transmission died.

Krrrzzzt.

Silence.

He stared at the radio. Penny had stopped with the jar still in her hands. Sasha had turned from the bunk. Even the girls had gone quiet. The shelter felt smaller than it had a minute ago.

He pressed the button. "Hello?"

Nothing.

"Who is this?"

Only static.

Krrrzzzt.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. Someone out there knew his name. Someone had found the frequency. And the voice on the other end had not sounded like a woman with time to spare.