NOVGO.NET Chapter 1048 Alliance
Chapter 1048: Chapter 1048 Alliance
"Don’t come any closer!" Miku shouted, though her voice broke halfway through.
She raised the knife, hands shaking.
They didn’t stop.
One of them lunged.
Miku swung the blade wildly, nicking his arm—but the blow barely slowed him down.
Another man slammed into her from the side, and the knife clattered to the floor.
A hand grabbed her hair; another gripped her arm.
She kicked, screamed, clawed—but there were too many.
Her vision blurred as someone’s fist connected with the side of her head.
The world tilted, her ears ringing.
The last thing she saw was Gage’s grinning face looming over her before everything went black.
And that was the last thing they ever did in their lives.
Because a voice spoke—softly, almost conversationally—from the shadowed hallway behind them.
"Five men ganging up on one helpless woman," the voice said. "Tell me... was your mama proud of what you turned into?"
The laughter stopped instantly.
Rick turned first, scowling. "Who the hell—"
He never finished his sentence.
A faint fearful sound sliced through the air, and his head snapped cleanly off his shoulders, rolling across the floor like a kicked ball.
Blood sprayed in a crimson arc across the walls.
The remaining four froze.
"W-what the—?! Show yourself!" Gage roared, fumbling for the gun slung at his back.
Another whisper of movement. Another flash.
Before he could pull the trigger, his arm—and then his head—were gone.
Panic erupted.
One man turned to run, but his body crumpled before he took two steps, his throat opening in a thin red line.
The last two screamed, swinging wildly at the shadows, but their blades met only air.
A heartbeat later, both fell, their eyes still wide with disbelief as their heads thudded onto the floor beside their comrades.
Silence fell again.
Blood pooled beneath the bodies, soaking into the cracked wooden floorboards.
The air smelled of iron and smoke.
Then, from the darkness, a figure stepped into view.
Ross Oakley.
His expression was calm, almost detached, his blade dripping crimson.
The faint light reflected in his eyes—cold, sharp, and unyielding.
He didn’t glance twice at the corpses scattered around him.
To him, they were nothing but trash already forgotten by the world.
He smiled and knelt beside Miku’s still form. Her breathing was shallow, but steady.
A faint bruise marked the side of her head where she’d been struck.
Ross looked at her quietly for a moment.
In this broken world, innocence was a rare thing—and seeing it almost stirred something unfamiliar in his chest.
Gently, he slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her shoulders, lifting her effortlessly.
Miku’s head rested lightly against his chest as he straightened, her hair brushing his chin.
He glanced once more at the lifeless men sprawled across the floor.
"You got what you deserved," he murmured coldly.
Then, without another word, Ross stepped over the bodies and walked out into the rain-drenched night.
The faint light from a burning building nearby flickered across his back, casting his long shadow across the ruined street.
Behind him, the house stood silent—its broken door swaying gently in the wind.
The only sounds were the soft crackle of fire and the distant moans of the undead.
And by the time the first curious zombies wandered in, there was nothing left but five headless corpses and a faint scent of ash in the air.
***
"Hmmmm..."
Miku stirred, groaning as a sharp, stabbing headache pulsed through her skull.
She lay still for a moment, letting her mind catch up with her body, each throb of pain pulling fragments of memory to the surface—the five men, the attack, the blood, the darkness.
Her eyes snapped open, and the realization hit her like ice water.
Panic surged through her.
"Ace!" she gasped, her voice trembling as her husband’s name slipped past her lips.
Her eyes darted around the room, frantic, searching for any familiar face, any sign of safety.
The space she was in was vast and orderly—spacious enough to feel luxurious, yet warm and welcoming in its simplicity.
Soft light spilled through wide windows, illuminating polished wooden floors and neatly arranged furniture.
It smelled faintly of fresh linens and brewed coffee, a stark contrast to the acrid, metallic scent of blood and decay that had filled her world for weeks.
For a heartbeat, Miku allowed herself to marvel at the normalcy of it all—the kind of normalcy that once seemed ordinary but now felt like a dream.
Shaking her head, trying to clear the dizziness clouding her thoughts, she cautiously got to her feet.
Her legs wobbled under her as she stepped toward the door, every sense alert, every nerve screaming for her to be ready to run.
As she entered the hall, her heart nearly stopped.
There, at a small table, sat a man—handsome, calm, and impossibly composed.
He was eating a burger with one hand, casually sipping coffee with the other, as though the world outside—the chaos, the undead, the horrors she had endured—did not exist.
His gaze shifted to her, and Miku froze. Fear clawed at her chest like a living thing.
Her stomach tightened, her hands shook, and her ragged clothes seemed to betray her even further.
They were filthy, torn, and covered in the grime of weeks surviving on the run, yet she knew she was still young and beautiful.
The thought made her panic even more; she had no idea what this stranger might do.
Instinctively, she stepped backward, eyes wide, her mind racing with scenarios.
"Don’t worry," the man said, his voice calm and steady, void of mockery or threat.
"I won’t take advantage of you. Besides... sex is the least of my worries right now."
Miku blinked, her fear battling with a flicker of relief.
She wanted to believe him, wanted to let go of the tight coil of panic gripping her chest—but the memory of the men who had cornered and tried to harm her lingered like a shadow over her trust.
Every fiber of her being screamed caution.