By the time Aurora and Jace reached the outpost on the hill, night had begun to fall—and so had the temperature.
Smoke curled from within rusted barrels. Metal scrap fences wrapped around concrete slabs like crude bones. A watchtower stood crookedly, held together by wires and desperation. The guards up top aimed their rifles, suspicious and silent.
A sign hung from the gate.
Hollowpoint Refuge. Survivors Welcome. Liars Shot.
Charming.
Jace looked at Aurora. "Should we… trust this?"
She didn't answer. Her eyes were glued to the crooked watchtower.
She knew that name. That sign. That barbed wire. That bloodstain on the corner wall—it used to belong to a kid named Levi. He'd bled out screaming after being thrown out for stealing a can of beans.
No trial. No mercy.
Just judgment.
"Stay behind me," she said quietly.
And she stepped forward.
---
A grizzled man with an undercut and a military jacket came to meet them at the gate. His shotgun hung lazy at his hip, but the look in his eyes was sharp and dry, like broken glass.
"State your business," he said.
Aurora tilted her head slightly, calculating. "We're looking for shelter. Supplies. Information."
He stared at her longer than necessary, eyes flicking to the dried blood on her shirt, the crowbar strapped to her back.
"You alone?"
"No."
Jace stepped forward. "We're not infected."
"Didn't ask if you were."
That was when Aurora caught the flicker of movement behind the guard. A figure in the shadows of the watchtower. Lean. Tall. Leaning against the rail with the arrogance of a man who never worried about being shot.
Her heart stopped.
And then it roared.
Luther Cain.
The man who'd once sworn to protect her in the last life.
The man who sold her out for food, for favor, for freedom.
The man who let her burn.
---
She kept her face blank.
He didn't recognize her yet. Of course not. She looked different. Stronger. Sharper. Colder.
Back then, she'd been just "that girl who fixed radios" and followed orders. Now? She looked like a predator.
Still, when he finally walked down the tower, boots echoing, his eyes met hers—and something flickered.
Not recognition. Not yet.
But unease.
Like the past had started whispering in his ear again.
"Well, well," Luther said with a lazy smirk. "New blood."
Aurora didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't breathe.
Until he spoke again.
"You got a name, sweetheart?"
She smiled slowly, venom sweet. "Ash."
She lied easily.
He grinned. "Welcome to Hollowpoint, Ash."
Welcome back to hell, she thought.
---
Inside, it looked like a community—but it smelled like a trap.
People gathered around fire drums, children huddled near makeshift tents. Women bartered cloth and bullets. Men polished guns they probably hadn't earned. The air held a strange mix of relief and paranoia.
It was safety—on someone else's terms.
And that someone was Luther Cain.
He ran this place like a king built from scraps. Every person owed him something. And if you didn't? You vanished.
Aurora clenched her fists as she passed a woman with one eye, scrubbing blood off a shirt that didn't belong to her.
She'd seen that woman die in her last life too.
She'd begged for help.
No one came.
---
Jace leaned in. "This place is messed up."
"It's worse than it looks," she murmured.
"You've been here before?"
"Not in this life."
He blinked. "What—?"
Before he could ask, someone shouted behind them.
"Hey! You—new girl. Boss wants a word."
Aurora turned slowly.
Three men stood there, weapons slung, eyes cold.
Luther's lapdogs.
Perfect.
She gave Jace a sideways glance. "Stay here. Don't talk to anyone."
"What if—?"
"If something happens, run. Don't look for me. Just run north."
He nodded reluctantly.
And Aurora followed the men back up to the tower.
---
The office hadn't changed much.
Still cluttered with maps, guns, and ego. Still reeking of cigar smoke and stale liquor. Luther sat behind the desk, legs propped up, that same smug expression on his face.
"You've got a soldier's walk," he said. "And blood under your nails. What were you before this?"
She shrugged. "Dead. Aren't we all?"
He chuckled. "Cute."
His eyes narrowed, suddenly sharp. "You look familiar."
"Lots of corpses do."
He studied her longer.
Then—leaned forward.
"You ever kill someone who trusted you, Ash?"
The room dropped ten degrees.
Aurora stepped forward, slow and quiet, until the desk was the only thing between them.
"Yes," she said. "And I didn't regret it."
Luther smiled again—but this one wasn't amused.
It was wary.
Good.
Let him fear her before he remembered who she was.
Let him feel death creeping back.
---
She left the office with new quarters, a ration card, and the weight of her past pressing against her spine.
She didn't tell Jace anything.
Not yet.
Because she needed to be sure.
Tomorrow, she'd visit the old supply bunker.
She'd look for the bodies.
For proof.
For the files Luther kept hidden under lock and lies.
Because if he was still doing experiments on survivors?
If he was still feeding people to the infected for data?
Then she'd burn Hollowpoint to the ground.
With her own hands.
And this time?
She'd make sure Luther Cain stayed dead.