Chapter 40: Most loyal dog

Dinner was unusually lavish.

Perhaps because they had all just escaped death, everyone ate as if they were trying to swallow their accumulated frustration along with the food.

Ace became the protected centerpiece. The brothers forced him into the middle seat and piled cans and dried meat in front of him.

He barely touched any of it. From the moment he sat down, his eyes never left May.

It was a look she had never seen on him before. Gone was the gentle, slightly distant smile. In its place was a fine-meshed net that locked onto her and refused to let go.

The weight of that gaze made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

While Mitch and Alex started arguing over a piece of grilled meat, Ray went to fetch water, and Jack buried himself in his food, Ace moved.

He shifted closer. Before she could react, he caught her hand. His palm was hot—almost burning—completely different from the icy temperature of earlier.

"May."

He spoke her name softly, the sound carrying a strange, almost unhealthy satisfaction.

She tried to pull her hand back. He only tightened his grip.

Oh God, if Ray sees this, he’s gonna explode with rage again.

He guided her hand without resistance and pressed it firmly against his own warm, solid chest. Through the thin layer of his T-shirt she could clearly feel the strong, steady heartbeat slamming against her palm.

One beat. Then another.

"Your taste," Ace murmured, lowering his head until those beautiful eyes curved into a smile so gentle it was almost frightening. He leaned close to her ear and whispered words meant for only the two of them. "...is sweet. I still remember it."

May went rigid. Her scalp prickled. Before she could recover from that spine-chilling statement, the next words he spoke dropped her straight into an ice cellar.

"So from now on... this life of mine belongs to you."

He lifted that strikingly handsome face. Thick, unshakeable devotion and obsession filled his eyes.

"If you tell me to live, I’ll live."

"If you tell me to die, I’ll die."

"I am your... most loyal dog."

Thud—

A heavy sound exploded. It was the metal lunch box in Jack’s hands hitting the floor.

His face flushed deep red, as if he had just stumbled onto some world-shaking secret. He pointed at them with a stutter. "You... you two..."

Ace slowly withdrew the hand that had been holding May’s. He calmly picked up a tissue from nearby and wiped the corner of his mouth—though not a single speck of grease had touched it.

He raised his eyes. Those always-tender peach-blossom eyes swept across Jack.

"What are you looking at? I nearly died just now. I was borrowing my little sister’s hand to feel a heartbeat."

His voice stayed warm and clear. Not a trace of embarrassment.

The two-meter-tall giant flinched hard, nearly burying his head in the lunch box. His neck turned crimson.

"N-nothing. Ace, as long as you’re alive again, that’s what matters."

Ray strode in with a dark face, several scavenged bottles of mineral water in his hands. He slammed them onto the table. The plastic bottoms struck the metal surface with a dull thud, making every lunch box on the table jump.

"Eat."

He spat out the single word, pulled out a long bench, and sat directly opposite May.

His nearly 1.95-meter frame blocked every bit of light in the aisle the moment he settled. Yet the faint sour tang of jealousy was already thick enough to pickle vegetables.

May hunched her shoulders and nibbled at half a can of luncheon meat in tiny bites. She could feel that stare locked onto her face like a searchlight, occasionally sliding over to Ace beside her.

"Ace, your body’s still weak. Eat more meat and stop reaching for random things."

Mitch had a stick of ham sausage clamped between his teeth. He delivered the verbal jab while pushing a can of braised beef toward Ace.

Ace didn’t answer. He only curved his eyes in a smile.

Resting his chin on one hand, he turned his head to look at May. His gaze was so gentle it seemed ready to drip water. "This life of mine was saved by May. From now on, whatever May tells me to do, I’ll do."

The moment the words left his mouth, the chewing motion of the man across the table stopped dead. Ray’s jaw clenched tight enough to crack.

Mitch’s ham sausage nearly slipped from his mouth. Alex wore a pure spectator’s smirk, feet swinging under the table.

May’s scalp prickled. This interpersonal battlefield had arrived even faster than a zombie siege.

She forced a dry laugh. "Come on, don’t be so polite. We’re all friends here. Helping each other is normal."

"Right, right—friends."

She nodded rapidly, trying to smother the charged atmosphere before it could grow.

Some people simply refused to cooperate.

Under the table, the space was tight.

May started to pull her legs back so she wouldn’t block anyone.

A warm foot suddenly settled on her knee.

Her entire body locked. The toe didn’t move. It simply rested there, continuous heat seeping through the fabric.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ace calmly twirling noodles with his fork, looking for all the world as if the foot under the table had nothing to do with him.

Well, well, well. What is going on here?

Without changing expression, she tried to push the foot away with her other one.

The moment her foot stretched out—before it even touched him—that warm foot, carrying a faint ticklish sensation, began sliding slowly and lightly up and down the length of her calf.

The motion didn’t feel like pure teasing. It felt more like soothing... and at the same time a silent claim of ownership.

May’s teeth tightened around the plastic fork so hard she nearly snapped it. She lifted her head.

Ace was smiling at her. The look in his eyes said clearly: Be good. Don’t move. Let them watch.

Ray was drinking water, the bottle hiding most of his face. Yet those eyes still cut past the plastic and fixed coldly on the flush rising at May’s ears.

"Why is your face red?"

He set the bottle down. His voice was low, like gravel grinding under a tire.