"Boss, from what I know, there's a small hospital up ahead. Should we stop to gather some medical supplies and equipment?" Friedrick asked, his voice hesitant, almost drowned by the hum of the engine.
Cassel didn't even look his way. "A hospital?" His tone was cold, sharp, laced with irritation. "Do you think there'll be fewer zombies there, you idiot? We wouldn't even make it past the entrance."
Liz's mocking laugh sliced through the tension. Her voice carried the same biting edge as before—strong, fierce, unshaken. It was obvious she had recovered completely.
I couldn't help but smile, relief blooming quietly in my chest.
After what happened last night, Cassel had needed only two sentences—just two—to crush every argument in the camp. His words, spoken in that frigid, commanding tone of his, had silenced even his father and his half-brother, whose voices had always rung the loudest.
He'd said, word for word:
