The Wild Survivor
786 Words
The city was already beginning to decay, though no one could see it yet. She could feel it an invisible clock ticking down to disaster.
She had Aleksandr and Elias. That was two.
Now, she needed the third.
Jace Mercer.
In her past life, Jace had been nothing more than a ghost in the apocalypse seen, but never caught. He had been a legend among survivors, a man who could slip through hordes of the undead like he was part of the shadows. A wild thing, untamed and unpredictable.
Finding him now, before the world fell apart, was her only chance to ensure he didn’t vanish into the ruins like before.
She knew exactly where to look.
---
The abandoned factory smelled of rust and damp earth. A forgotten place, left to rot at the edges of civilization. Jace thrived in places like this.
She crouched low, scanning the area. No footprints. No sign of movement. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t here.
Then, a whisper of sound.
Too fast. Too silent.
She rolled to the side just as a knife struck the ground where she had been crouching.
A laugh echoed in the shadows. “Not bad.”
She didn’t bother drawing a weapon. Jace wouldn’t kill her. Not yet.
“Come out,” she said, keeping her voice steady.
A figure melted out of the darkness, moving with the effortless grace of a predator. Shaggy dark hair, sharp amber eyes, lean muscles coiled like a spring.
Jace Mercer. Untouched by society. Untouched by rules.
“You’re either brave or stupid,” he said, twirling the knife between his fingers. “Most people don’t come looking for me.”
She smirked. “I’m not most people.”
He tilted his head, studying her. His gaze was sharp, like he was peeling away layers, trying to see what was underneath.
“You know,” he murmured, taking a slow step forward, “you smell like trouble.”
She didn’t move. “And you smell like blood.”
His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Maybe we’ll get along after all.”
She exhaled, measuring her next words carefully. “I need you.”
Jace laughed, a wild, untamed sound. “Now that’s interesting.”
He stepped even closer, until she could feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that she could see the flicker of something dark in his gaze.
“What’s in it for me?” he asked, voice dropping into something almost… teasing.
She met his stare. “Survival.”
He hummed, circling her like a wolf sizing up its prey. “I survive just fine on my own.”
“For now,” she said. “But the world’s about to get a lot more dangerous.”
His eyes gleamed. “Danger doesn’t scare me.”
She knew that. He had lived through horrors that would have broken lesser men.
She could tell him about the apocalypse, about the infected, about the end of everything. But Jace wasn’t like Aleksandr or Elias. He didn’t care about proof.
He cared about instinct.
So she played her last card.
She stepped closer, tilting her chin up. “Then what does scare you?”
Something flickered in his gaze. Interest. Amusement.
Hunger.
Jace smirked, but this time, it was slower. Darker.
“You’re dangerous,” he murmured. A whisper of something hot curling between them.
She didn’t flinch as he reached out, brushing his fingers along her jaw. A touch that was both gentle and possessive.
“You think you can handle me?” he mused, his voice like a purr. “Because I don’t play nice.”
She swallowed hard. “Neither do I.”
His smirk widened. “Good.”
And then, suddenly, he moved.
Fast.
One second she was standing, the next her back was pressed against the cold, rusted metal of the factory wall. Jace’s body was flush against hers, caging her in.
She gasped, but he only grinned, his breath hot against her skin. His hands braced on either side of her head, giving her no room to escape.
“You’re interesting,” he murmured, his lips just inches from hers. His voice was a low rasp, full of something dark and thrilling.
She exhaled sharply. “So are you.”
Jace chuckled, and then, just when she thought he might kiss her, he pulled back.
Teasing. Testing.
Damn him.
“I’ll join you,” he said, stepping away with a lazy grin. “For now.”
She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. Jace Mercer was going to be the death of her.
But at least he was on her side.
Three down. One to go.
- Writer
