Chapter 2Scorch Protocol: Wife Relocation

I silently blanked the screen and forced a brittle smile. “Fine. I’ll leave.”

Where I was going, however, was no longer his decision to make.

He let out a sigh of relief and leaned in to place a quick, dry peck on my forehead. “I knew you’d understand, Rory. Don’t worry, I’ll have you back before you know it.”

I subtly wiped the spot his lips had touched.

That night, Lucas stayed by Anya’s bedside, a devoted sentinel. I sat on the living room sofa, sleep evading me as memories, sharp as broken glass, tormented me through the long, quiet hours.

Lucas had been a scholarship student my father sponsored. He was so brilliant that my father paid for him to study abroad with me in California. Back then, he was the boy who would cross half of Los Angeles just to buy me a specific piece of cake, the boy who would wait outside my dorm every night with a warm container of food because he knew I hated the campus cafeteria.

Now, Lucas couldn’t bear the thought of a "pure, white jasmine flower" like Anya being crushed in the wasteland.

But he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten the promise he made seven years ago, at my father’s deathbed. He had sworn to protect me, to ensure that the Shepherd family’s rose would never wither.

The Scorch hadn’t come yet. His vows were meant to last an eternity. Now, those same vows had grown thorns, each one piercing my heart.

How could someone who was once so good turn so rotten, so suddenly?

I couldn’t understand it. But I understood one thing with chilling clarity: whatever path lay ahead, I would be walking it alone.

The next morning, Lucas was in the kitchen at dawn, a rare sight. He was simmering a nutrient-rich broth for Anya. I ignored him completely, walking into my study and pulling out my suitcase.

The small noises must have woken Anya. After a night of medical care, she was conscious. Her eyes met mine.

And then, she went berserk. She scrambled off the bed and threw herself at my feet, banging her head on the floor like a terrified, cornered animal.

“Please, don’t hit me! I-I’ll be good, I swear! I’m very quiet, please don’t hit me!”

I stared at her, stunned.

A frantic rush of footsteps sounded behind me.

“Rory! What are you doing to her?!”

Lucas stormed into the room, scooping the trembling girl into his arms. His eyes, fixed on me, were bloodshot with fury.

He had never lost his composure like this. Not even three years ago, when the Scorch began and our own child was lost in the chaos of the evacuation. He had remained a pillar of stoic grief.

But now, for a girl he barely knew, he was turning on me.

Anya clung to him, tears streaming down her face. “Please… please don't send me back to the Warrens… I can sing for you…”

Lucas held her tighter, his voice a low, gentle murmur. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. Lucas is here.”

Then he turned his head, his words for me laced with steel. “She was horribly abused on Level Three, Rory. Don’t you dare try to intimidate her!”

I let out a long, slow breath, a wave of profound exhaustion washing over me. “I used to think you were blind, Lucas. Now I see I was the one who couldn’t see.”

Blind enough to waste my entire youth on a man like him.

For a moment, he looked stunned, a flicker of some unreadable emotion in his eyes. I didn’t wait for him to process it. I turned and walked away.

It turns out, when you’re hurt enough, you don’t even have the energy left to fight.

Back in my study, I opened an old silver locket. Inside was a photo of the three of us: him, me, and our daughter. The sight of our brilliant, long-lost smiles stung my eyes.

The day of the great migration into the Citadel, our daughter had slipped, falling into a fissure that split the earth. There was nothing left to bury. I had cried until my throat was raw and my tears ran dry, and only then did Lucas finally show up.

The memory sent a fresh wave of sharp, familiar pain through my chest.

Just then, the door creaked open. It was Lucas. He saw me caressing the locket, his expression complicated. “It was an accident, Rory. If our daughter were still here, she wouldn’t want you to be so sad.”

He held out a bowl of the broth. “Here, eat something. Your stomach is always giving you trouble.”

I snapped the locket shut, a self-mocking smile on my face. “Don’t bring me Anya’s leftovers.”

Seeing his peace offering rejected, Lucas’s patience snapped. He slammed the bowl down on my desk.

“For God’s sake, Rory, I’m just asking you to stay in the Warrens for a few months! Are you going to hold this grudge forever? Anya is a delicate girl, and she survived down there for three years. Why can’t you?”

I slowly raised my heavy eyelids. “Then why don’t you go?”

He blinked, not comprehending at first. When my words registered, his face flushed with anger. “I’m the head of this household! If I leave, what kind of a home would this be?”

He leaned in, his voice a low threat. “Let me remind you, Rory. If you dare make things difficult for that poor girl, don’t expect me to ever come get you.”

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

I walked to my bookshelf and let out a cold, hollow laugh.

Three years in the apocalypse, and he still didn’t get it.

Lucas, have you forgotten? Without me, you wouldn’t even have the right to breathe the recycled air of Level Two.