The last days：Domination

The wind carried the faintest sound of footsteps, quick and deliberate, coming from the alleyway to their right. Adam's body tensed instinctively, every muscle on high alert. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Whoever was tailing them wasn't trying to hide their presence—they were just waiting for the right moment to strike.

He exchanged a glance with Monica. Her expression was calm, but Adam could see the tension in her shoulders. She was ready. But was she prepared for what lay ahead? Adam wasn't entirely sure.

He raised a hand, signaling her to stay quiet, and slowly, with the kind of caution born from years of survival, he eased closer to the edge of the building, his eyes scanning the shadows. The sound of the footsteps stopped, but Adam didn't lower his guard. The last thing he wanted was to be caught off guard again.

A shadow shifted in the corner of his vision.

Adam's instincts flared. In an instant, he swung his machete up, ready to strike, but then he hesitated. A figure emerged from the darkness—tall, with ragged clothes and a makeshift weapon in hand. It was a man, but not one Adam recognized. His face was obscured by a tattered cloth, but the air about him screamed danger.

Monica's eyes narrowed, her hand twitching toward the small pistol at her hip. Adam knew she wasn't averse to taking down threats. But there was something different about this situation. The man didn't move aggressively. He stood there, unmoving, his eyes fixed on Adam as if he were waiting for something.

A tense silence hung between them.

"Who are you?" Adam asked, his voice low but firm. He kept his machete at the ready, but he wasn't about to make the first move unless he had to.

The man didn't respond immediately. He simply stared at Adam, as if sizing him up, his gaze calculating and wary. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he lifted his hand, showing that he wasn't holding a weapon. The gesture seemed almost peaceful, but Adam didn't trust it.

"Not an enemy," the man said at last, his voice gravelly, as if speaking had become a painful effort. He had an accent, one that Adam couldn't place, but there was something else—something off about his tone. "Not here to fight."

Adam kept his machete ready, but his grip loosened slightly. The man's words were strange—he wasn't here to fight, yet he had been following them. Why?

"What do you want?" Adam pressed, his eyes never leaving the stranger.

The man looked over his shoulder, scanning the area around them with sharp, calculating eyes. "Not safe. You've got people on your tail. You need to move." He pointed toward the alleyway where Adam had heard the footsteps earlier. "They're coming."

Adam's gaze flicked to Monica. She looked just as skeptical as he felt, but her hand was still on her gun, ready to act at a moment's notice. She'd learned the hard way to trust her instincts—and right now, her instincts were screaming at her to be careful.

"Who's coming?" Adam asked, his tone cautious but firm. "What do you know about us?"

The man didn't flinch. "Not about you," he said, his voice steady. "But I know about them. The ones following you. They're not human." His lips twisted into a grim smile. "At least, not entirely."

Adam's heart skipped a beat. Not human? The world had changed in ways he was still trying to understand. Mutated creatures, deadly zombies, and now... something worse?

Monica shifted her weight, clearly thinking through her options. Adam could tell she was weighing the same things he was—whether to trust this man or dispose of him before he could pose a threat.

The man stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You're not the only one with power. Some of those who survived... they've changed. They're not like the rest. They're hunting for what you've got." He pointed at the crystal in Adam's hand. "That thing is more valuable than you realize."

Adam tightened his grip on the crystal, feeling its heat pulse against his skin. It was already becoming more than just a tool—it was a beacon. A target for those who would stop at nothing to claim it.

"Who are they?" Adam asked, still not trusting the stranger but feeling the pull of urgency in his gut.

The man hesitated, his eyes darting nervously as if searching for an escape. "I don't have time to explain," he said. "But I can help you... for a price."

Adam's mind raced. A price? The man was offering help, but Adam had learned the hard way that nothing came free in the world of the apocalypse. Everyone had an agenda.

"What's the price?" Adam asked, not masking his skepticism.

The man's eyes flickered to Monica, and Adam caught the briefest flash of something in his expression—something that suggested he knew exactly who she was. "Not much," the man replied, his voice low. "Just a favor, down the line. When you need it."

Adam could feel Monica's gaze burning into the back of his neck. She was cautious—she didn't trust easily, and Adam could tell she wasn't fond of the idea of making deals with strangers. But right now, the situation was dire. They needed information—and they needed it fast.

"I'll take your offer," Adam said finally, his voice hard. "But know this: if you're playing us, I won't hesitate to end you."

The man nodded solemnly, his lips twitching into a grim smile. "Fair enough."

Without another word, the stranger turned and motioned for Adam and Monica to follow him. There was no hesitation in his movements, no sign of fear. He was confident, as if he knew exactly where to go—and he was right.

As they moved deeper into the alley, Adam couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. He had no idea what kind of people this man was talking about—these "not human" hunters—but he was about to find out. Whatever it was, it was clear they were dealing with something far more dangerous than the usual threats of the apocalypse.

And Adam, for all his growing power, knew he wasn't ready for what was coming next.