Chapter 3 Branded the Villain

Trash and stones rained down on my sister as she cowered, trembling. She sobbed like a frightened rabbit, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I really am…"

Victor's eyes burned red with fury and anguish. He lunged forward, shielding her tightly in his arms, and roared at the crowd, "Shut the hell up!"

Then, he lifted his head, his ice-cold gaze stabbing into me like a blade. "Zoe Quinn! Didn't you say this has nothing to do with you? Prove it!"

A cruel smirk curved his lips as his voice rang across the square. "Do you know how this zombie tide came to be?"

Then, he shot his finger toward me. "Our very own Chief Quinn ignored all warnings and went alone to provoke the zombie king! She enraged it and brought this disaster down on us!"

Every pair of eyes turned on me, wide with disbelief.

"Zoe Quinn, we trusted you. That's why we made you our chief."

"You risked all our lives just to make yourself look good?!"

The flood of curses nearly swallowed me whole. I stood frozen, blood turning to ice in my veins.

Across the square, Victor gently wiped away Anya's tears and held her close, whispering comfort into her ears. The sight cut me deeper than any wound. He, more than anyone, knew why I had stormed into the zombie king's lair.

I had done it to save him.

He had thrown himself into the zombie tide for nothing more than a bag, just because Anya had once said she liked it. He had been captured by the zombie king. Everyone said he was as good as dead. But I—no matter what—needed to see him, even if all that was left was his corpse.

And now, to shield the woman he loved, he twisted the truth and pinned the crime on me.

Even knowing what it would cost, he would do anything for Anya.

Victor lifted her into his arms and carried her away. As he passed me, his eyes never strayed from her face. Not for a single moment did he spare me even a glance.

I watched his back as he left, every step sharp with resolve, without a shred of hesitation. My heart grew colder and colder. My fists clenched so tightly my nails bit deep into flesh—yet I felt no pain at all.

I straightened my back and stood still as the furious mob shoved and cursed, venting all their rage on me. I tried to calm them, tried to assure them I would take responsibility, but my words fell on deaf ears. The hatred engulfed me. They poured every ounce of resentment from this apocalypse onto my head.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, my voice hoarse but steady. "It was my fault. Don't worry, I'll do everything I can to make it right."

Just like that, years of hard-won respect crumbled in a single moment. The crowd finally dispersed, still heavy with anger.

…

When I returned to my cold quarters, I found a familiar charm lying at the door—a simple knot, crafted with Victor's own hands. No one else knew how to make it.

But was it a belated apology? Or just payment on Anya's behalf?

I picked up the delicate knot, its threads cool against my fingers, and let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Foolish thing." Then, without hesitation, I tossed it into the trash.

…

The next morning, someone knocked at my door.

When I opened it, the last person I expected was standing there.

I looked at my sister, emotions tangled in my chest. I had no idea how I was supposed to face her.

She clasped my hand gently. "Zoe, you're still the same as when we were kids—stubborn in a way that makes people ache for you."

I pressed my lips together, saying nothing.