I stepped forward, calm as ever.
"That's enough."
Every gaze fixed on me.
I continued, voice steady, cutting through the tension.
"Knowing the truth changes nothing. The past is already set in stone. Obsess over it, and despair will consume you—or worse."
Each bowed, knuckles white and bleeding, powerless under the truth I spoke.
Svetlana, trembling, whispered, "So… there's no way out?"
"No. Lucky for you… I hold the cure."
From my cloak, I drew the vials, flicking one toward each of them.
"Take it. Consider it a gift. That ends tonight. Tomorrow. Our task begins."
I turned and left, leaving them standing in stunned silence, unsure of what to do or say.
...
[ Sith's PoV ]
As soon as the kid disappeared, I sank against the wall, exhaling shakily.
I never expected to have to fight him—his punch nearly knocked me out cold. Tsk… what a miserable, relentless day. And then, just when I thought it couldn't get worse, the worst news hit: we're all infected.
Fucking brilliant…
But somehow, the kid handed each of us a cure. Still, his background? A complete mystery. I guess that can wait. For now, I trust Pops' decision, like always.
I reached out to help Dr. Jenner, but he caught my wrist, shaking his head.
"Don't. Save your strength—the others need you more than I do."
I frowned but insisted. "No. I can't, Dr. Jenner. Let me check you—just a little. Your health comes first, for you and the group."
He pulled himself up with effort. "It's fine. I can handle myself."
I exhaled sharply, rummaging through my kit. "Take these—bandages and alcohol. Should patch you up for now."
He tried to refuse, but I pressed the supplies into his hands anyway.
Before he could argue, I darted toward Tank, hunched over the crates, clutching his side, sweat pouring down his massive frame. I dropped to my knees beside him. "You holding up, big guy?"
He let out a crooked grin, still sweating bullets. "Heh… I'm good, Twig. Don't you go worryin' 'bout me."
I shook my head, half-smiling. Too reckless… almost got flattened by that kid back there.
I lifted his shirt, spotting a huge bruise over his abdomen. When I pressed it, he let out a sharp "Oww!"
I exhaled. "Okay, big guy… which do you want first, the good news or the bad news?"
He groaned. "Go 'head, gimme the bad news. Day's been rough enough."
I nodded. "Bad news? You cracked two ribs. Good news? The rest of you is solid."
"Pfft… guess I'm lucky," Tank huffed, still catching his breath. "But that brat—damn, he kicked me like my weight didn't even matter. I'm 297 pounds, and he made me feel like nothin'. Crazy."
I rolled my eyes, beginning to wrap his ribs. "Just take it easy, big guy. Don't go throwin' yourself at him again."
He smirked, sweat dripping down his face. "No promises, Twig. No promises."
I finished patching his ribs and quickly pressed a cloth to his bleeding nose. Grabbing two Tylenol and a bottle of water from my pack, I handed them over. "Take these. Only every 4–6 hours if you need 'em."
He popped the pills, giving me a grateful nod. "Thanks, Twig. You saved my ass today."
I gave his shoulder a light tap. "Yeah, yeah… just don't go getting ragdolled again."
Tank chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, then pulled a serum from his pocket. "Twig… what you think 'bout this? Can I hit it now?"
I paused, eyeing the serum. "Wait. Let me read it first."
He handed it over, and I studied the vial. The liquid inside was a slightly yellowish hue, and only "NRC-13" was legible; the rest was smudged. I frowned, weighing my options.
"I think it should be fine—we saw what happened when the kid gave it to Dr. Jenner's wife. But just to be safe… if you feel anything strange or off, tell me immediately."
He gave a firm nod.
After a quick goodbye, I left him to rest and made my way over to Pops. His condition looked worse than anyone else's. I knew why—he'd nearly lost half our brothers just getting Dr. Jenner and his wife to the CDC. But the past couldn't be changed. The kid's words were right: knowing the truth doesn't alter what's already happened. Dwelling on it would only breed hopelessness—or worse.
Isla and Svetlana were already tending to Pops. I greeted them quietly.
"Hey, Pops. You holding up?"
He gave a tired sigh. "I'm managing, Sith."
"Mind if I check your left hand?"
He nodded. I unwrapped the cloth carefully, frowning at the damage.
"This'll take at least a week to heal."
"That so?" he muttered, wincing.
I set to work immediately, instructing Isla and Svetlana to bring some boiled water. After cleaning the wound thoroughly, I applied antiseptic, stitched it carefully, and wrapped it in a fresh bandage. "This should hold for now. Try not to move your hand too much."
"Thanks, Sith," he muttered, patting my head lightly.
"How's Edwin?" he asked, surprising me.
I glanced up. "He's fine. No broken bones—just some bruises."
Pops swallowed a mouthful of liquor, voice low. "I see…"
I hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Pops… I hope you can forgive him someday. I know it was unfair that he kept that secret, but what he did mattered. Because of him, we made it here and found the kid. I'm not taking sides—just stating the facts."
He tipped the bottle again, hand unsteady. "I'll try… but not yet. I can't. Your brothers died protecting him, never knowing the truth."
I nodded, letting the silence stretch between us. "Take your time, Pops. Don't blame yourself. You did all you could—for us, for the brothers left. We know the truth, and we'd do it all over again to keep you alive."
His lips trembled slightly, and he bowed his head. For a moment, his massive frame shook, betraying the weight he carried. I patted his shoulder gently. "Take care, Pops. I'll leave the medicine with Svet—she'll make sure you take it."
With that, I stepped back and moved on, beginning my rounds to check on the other brothers.
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Hey everyone, the author here! The next chapter update is scheduled for next week—I hope you're as excited as I am. Stay tuned!
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