The camp moved with strict order under his command. Every corner carried his stamp. He was brave and cunning. He showed no flaws. His one weakness was his wife, Arwen. That weakness stretched to her brother, Orren. Solan spoiled him as well, without limit. Theresa only needed a glance at their clothing to see it. Solan wore patched cloth that had seen better years. His wife wore a coat almost new. Her brother wore an outfit sharper still, boots polished and a jacket spotless. But that was his family. If he chose to live that way, it was not her concern. What mattered was the state of the camp itself. Solan Camp held more than eight thousand souls. They scraped by with just enough to survive. At the start of the collapse, Solan had fought with courage to seize a grain depot. That victory gave them a chance. But food rotted with time, and zombie hordes grew fiercer. Now supplies outside were nearly impossible to take. Solan looked to Theresa for hope. He wanted food from her. She listened to the whole story. Then she nodded. "When I return, I'll have supplies sent your way." She had resources on hand. But she kept them hidden. To reveal them now would be like painting herself as prey. Solan looked honest. But honesty bent when power appeared. People could not be trusted with temptation. It was better to let Lucas arrange a drop. The process would take more work. But it was safe.When Solan heard her promise, his eyes burned with excitement. He lifted his glass, filled it to the brim, and raised it high. "Thank you, Ms. Hall. I'll drink to honor you!" Arwen's voice tore through the room. "What are you doing! Didn't you swear to me you'd stop drinking?" Solan chuckled with a guilty grin. "It's a happy occasion, Arwen. Just a few sips." Her eyes lit with fury. "That's your reason? Why don't you just swallow garbage instead?" He tried to calm her, still smiling. "We have a guest here. Please, let me keep some dignity." Her hand slammed the table with a sharp crack. Her words struck like a whip. "You want dignity, or you want me? You worthless fool, drink tonight and don't you dare come near my bed. Stay the hell away!" She spun and stormed off. "Arwen!" Solan's voice chased her. On any other day, he would have gone after her. But Theresa was there, and he could not abandon his guest. He turned back, wearing a stiff smile. "Forgive that. She gets carried away." Theresa lifted a hand. "It's fine. To me, it shows you're a rare man." Solan's face fell. His voice sank low. "I'm not rare. She is. She used to be soft, gentle. Her parents didn't want her with me. She stood her ground anyway. I was far away, stationed for years. She lived alone. She handled everything by herself. Even when she was pregnant, she went to every checkup alone. She never once complained." His tone cracked. "When the world collapsed, she was eight months along. She ran through ruin with that weight. She lost the baby. Her parents died saving her. I can't even picture her pain. She was left with nothing but her brother. She must have felt her world break." The liquor loosened him, and the whole story poured out. Theresa's eyes shifted.She thought of Arwen's sharp tongue and her bitter stare. Suddenly, it was clear why she had those. Her voice softened. "The past is over. The future can still hold good. You and she can still build." Solan shook his head hard. "She can't. The loss broke her body. She can't bear another child. She's a good woman. She deserved more. If not for me, she would be living a better life. I ruined it for her." Theresa had no words to heal that wound. Comfort was not her gift. Quentin's voice slid in smooth. "Solan, stop drowning yourself in regret. She stood with you then, and she stands with you now. She still loves you. She doesn't blame you." Solan lifted his head. Quentin's grin flashed sly. "Let me show you a few tricks. I guarantee your wife won't turn you away tonight. And you're tired, Beautiful, aren't you? You should rest." Theresa's lips parted, but silence followed. She rose and left it to Quentin. There was nothing else for her here. Quentin could handle this. The cold air brushed her face as she stepped outside. A man approached in polished boots and a spotless jacket. His smile spread wide. "Ms. Hall." Theresa's gaze fixed on Orren. "What is it?" "We had a rushed meeting earlier. Let me introduce myself proper. I'm Orren. I lead the ability-user squad here.""Okay." Theresa crossed her arms. Time weighed light on her hands. She studied him as he stood before her, pride and confidence in every line of his stance.