He wanted nothing more than to do this. The world had burned for almost five years, but his duty as a soldier had not faded. He was not the kind of man who would ever turn into a warlord. If there was a chance to help, he would take it. What gave him peace was knowing Theresa's goals never clashed with his own. Lucas believed in actions, not rumors. Many called her selfish. Many whispered that she was cunning. But when the world stood on the edge, she had never let him down. Another leader, with the same wealth of supplies, would have crowned themselves king long ago. Power stripped the mask from everyone. But Theresa was different. He knew it without doubt. Theresa was upright. As long as no one touched her interests, she showed mercy. She was strong, but she had a conscience. Right now, the woman he respected more than anyone sat with eyes sharp as blades. Her glare pinned the man dozing in front of her. Quentin shifted under her stare. His eyelids lifted. A grin spread across his face. "What are you staring at, captain? You got a thing for me?" Theresa had been drowning in work for hours. Quentin had been hauled along, not given a choice. The moment he sat down on the helicopter, he had passed out like a stone. Now that her duties were finished, she finally had a moment to look at him. The longer she looked, the more her jaw tightened.She was about to walk into a pit filled with zombies. If Quentin had given her his true loyalty, grabbing Professor K's stash would have been easy. But the man grew stronger in every way except that one. Loyalty. The sight of him sleeping easy while she carried the weight of everything set her chest on fire. "You tell me," Theresa shot back. Quentin stretched, slow and smug. He pulled a folding fan from his domain and waved it at her. "Alright, I get it. You nap. I'll stand guard." Her eyes narrowed like ice. "You trying to freeze me? It's cold enough already, and you're fanning me?" He froze. He shoved the fan back into his domain. A quilt appeared in his hands. He offered it with a sheepish grin. "Then wrap yourself up. Stay warm." She glared at him. "If I cover up now, I'll freeze worse when I step off this thing!" Quentin blinked. His brows furrowed. "What is wrong with you today, boss?" "You tell me," she repeated. His eyes lit up with sudden realization. He scrambled for a thermos. "I get it. It must be that time. I'll brew you something hot. You'll feel better." Theresa's fist flew. "I will not!" She punched him once. Then again. Her blows did not shatter bone, but they left him in real pain. He sucked in a breath. He stared at her furious eyes. And then he laughed. He puffed out his chest and grinned. "Hit me all you want. You won't kill me. If it makes you feel better, then go ahead." Her jaw locked tight. Her voice was sharp. "When will you give me full loyalty?""I already have." His grin widened. His eye softened, full of warmth, almost like devotion. Theresa glanced at her system numbers. Nothing had changed. Not a single point had moved. Her knuckles struck his face again. The helicopter touched down with a heavy thud. They landed a few miles outside Firestone, right at Solan Camp. The crowded camp had cleared a wide space just to greet her. The sun had dipped low. Evening shadows stretched long. Poison gas drifted from Firestone, curling into the fading light. It was too dangerous to march in at night. She chose to stay in Solan Camp until dawn. Lucas had already sent word ahead. Solan, the leader of the camp, had wasted no time. He had cleared the square for her arrival. The first thing she saw was a camp built like a steel barrel, walls of metal and concrete rising high. The place was crowded with people. Families lived in shacks and makeshift shelters. Only the center held two or three dozen old apartment blocks, standing since before the fall. They had made those buildings their anchor. With mountains at their back and a river in front, they had carved out a camp large enough to endure. The zombies nearby were fewer than in most places. But the roar of the helicopter blades had already drawn them. The undead hurled themselves against the walls. Their claws scraped. Their snarls echoed across the night. Inside, people gathered in clusters. Every eye turned to the sky. "It's a helicopter!" someone cried."They really have one! They must be stronger than us by miles!" "I've never seen outsiders before!" "They're landing! Look at that!" The crowd pressed to the square's edge. Their faces glowed with awe. The doors opened. First stepped a man with dark circles under his eyes. Behind him came a young woman in combat gear. Theresa's boots hit the ground. Gasps swept the crowd like a wave. "She's gorgeous!" "She's prettier than Arwen Sinclair, our lady!" "Four years of hell, and there's still a woman like that in the world!"