Ich starb, und mein Mafia-Mann bereut es

When Emilia Campbell handed the antidote to Dustin Nott, she didn't even glance at me.

"Dustin, here's the antidote," she said, her tone as casual as if she were handing him a bottle of water.

Dustin took the antidote, his eyes gleaming with a barely contained smugness.

Then Emilia handed me a small bottle of murky, transparent liquid.

She avoided my gaze. "This is a suppressant. It'll help you hold out a little longer."

The cheap suppressant was useless to me at this stage of infection.

I kept my voice steady. "You know it won't work on me."

Emilia's eyes flickered. She frowned. "Zack Cohen, don't do this. Dustin's health is fragile. What if he really gets infected…"

I interrupted her with a laugh. "He hasn't even been on a mission since joining the team. He has no wounds, so how could he be infected?"

Emilia raised her voice. "That's just on the surface! You know the zombie virus has a three-day incubation period! As captain, I have to look out for every one of my team!"

She continued, "You're my boyfriend and the vice captain. If I give you the antidote and not him, what will the other team members think? How will I lead this team well? I have to avoid being partial!"

That same old excuse, again.

The gray-white streaks on my right arm were slowly creeping up toward my shoulder, and the burning sensation beneath my skin grew stronger with each passing moment.

I stared at her while taking a deep breath. "So, my life is less important than your reputation? You think you can just give me a suppressant and be done with it?"

Her face shifted slightly. "What are you saying? I promised I'll go to the research center in the western district tomorrow. I'll bring the antidote back! You trust me, don't you?"

Before the apocalypse, Emilia and I were the perfect team at the military academy.

She would plan, and I would execute. She strategized, while I handled the details.

Everyone said we were made for each other.

On graduation day, she said to me on the training field, "Zack, you can trust me completely for the rest of your life."

After the outbreak, I stayed by her side, helping her build the survivor squad. I didn't mind playing the supporting role. I gave her all the credit and shouldered all the risks.

Three years later, the team had grown from just seven to over forty, and she had become the respected "Captain Campbell".

But what did I get?

Nothing but excuses and "next times".

If it weren't for the virus stripping away my mutative abilities, and I'd be devoured by zombies if I went out alone, I would never need her to help me find the antidote.