Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse-Chapter 145: Bowral

Victor’s words settled over the room and stayed there.

No one rushed to fill the silence after that.

Leaf Team was not just another group circling around a valuable resource, they were strong, too strong.

Snow Team could survive a lot of things. They could outfight most people, outlast even more, and they were stubborn enough to drag themselves through situations that should have killed them three times over. But Leaf Team was not some ragged band of survivors with delusions and rifles. They were organized, powerful, and led by a man who made even very dangerous people think twice before getting clever.

And they wanted Felicity, not as a prisoner. That would have been simpler, they wanted her because she was strong, because she was rare, because a woman like her changed the balance of any team she stood with, and in this world men were used to orbiting women with or with out power. Men were used to becoming theirs. Men were used to building whole lives around one woman’s safety, one woman’s affection, one woman’s home and because their bodies screamed "mine."

That was normal now, that did not make it easier to tolerate.

Marx dragged a hand down his face. "So that’s what this is."

Victor looked at him. "Correct."

"Not just interest."

"No."

Ash shifted in his chair, forearms braced against the backrest. "They want to merge?"

Damien leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Eventually."

Sarge let out a breath through his nose. "That feels real generous of them, considering none of us asked."

Victor’s expression remained flat. "Strong teams don’t always wait to be asked."

Pope, who had been unusually quiet up until now, finally straightened from where he had been perched near the kitchen bench. He tilted his head slightly, pale eyes thoughtful rather than amused for once.

"They’re not the only thing we need to account for," he said.

Sarge glanced over. "You got something useful, miracle boy?"

Pope ignored the name. He did that more often lately. The old habit of grinning like the world was a joke had been worn down by too much blood, too many roads, too many things that had stopped being funny.

"I’ve heard of a place," he said.

Victor’s attention shifted fully to him. "Where?"

"West of here. Out into the countryside."

Legend frowned. "West is a lot of ground."

Pope nodded. "Yeah, but I’m not talking random bush land. I mean an actual place. Bowral."

That got a little more focus out of the room.

Ash’s eyebrows lifted. "Bowral?"

Pope shrugged one shoulder. "Before all this, it was already beautiful. Green. Open. Cooler. Less crowded. Country town, old estates, gardens, farms, enough distance from the major choke points that things don’t cluster there the same way."

Sarge snorted. "You selling us a holiday package?"

Pope looked at him evenly. "No. I’m saying if we’re leaving anyway, there’s no point crawling from one compromised location to another inside the same mess. Vineyard’s gone. This area’s watched. We keep drifting east and circling the same rotten water, we’re going to keep meeting the same problems."

Tommy’s mouth tightened. He knew Pope was right. They all did.

At this point Snow Team were nomads whether they liked the label or not. Safe places did not stay safe. Supplies ran out. Ruins drew predators. News traveled. Men talked. Teams noticed. Nothing held forever anymore. The closest thing they had to stability was the fact they were good at leaving.

Victor considered it for several moments, his expression unreadable.

"A few months on the road," Colt said.

"Probably," Pope replied. "Longer if we’re careful. Shorter if we get stupid."

Sarge rubbed his jaw. "Country roads means less concentrated infected, less urban collapse, more wild terrain, more room to move, more room to disappear."

"And fewer established teams," Tommy added.

Damien’s gaze lowered slightly in thought. "Less infrastructure."

Pope nodded. "True. But less competition too. Less eyes. Less chance of every second idiot hearing rumors about a fox woman who is kind and beautiful and can feed armies."

That landed heavily.

Victor finally spoke. "Bowral."

Pope shrugged again, but there was something quieter underneath it this time, something almost human and not quite hidden enough. "If we’re going to keep being nomads, we may as well head somewhere worth the walk."

Legend barked out a short laugh. "Look at him. Cult leader leftovers recommending a scenic route."

Pope’s mouth twitched. "You want ugly, stay here."

Marx nodded slowly. "I hate that this is the most sensible thing anyone’s said tonight."

Ash glanced at Victor. "If we go west, it changes our pace completely."

"Yes," Victor said.

Tommy looked toward the hallway where Felicity slept. "Might not be the worst thing."

No one disagreed.

The truth sat plainly between them. Vineyard was done. Not because the place had failed them, but because the world had caught up to it. Too many people knew. Too many forces were moving now. Leaf Team. The lizards. Anyone who watched movement patterns long enough. Anyone who followed blood, rumor, smoke, or desperation.

Staying was not loyalty. Staying was stupidity with sentimental wrapping paper.

Victor uncrossed his arms. "We leave."

The decision hit the room like a locked mechanism dropping into place.

Sarge nodded once, immediate and sharp. "Good."

Tommy straightened. "How soon?"

"Soon," Victor said, "maybe tomorrow, But soon enough that no one gets comfortable."

Pope looked satisfied in a tired sort of way.

Victor’s gaze swept over all of them. "Bowral is the direction. But getting there matters more than naming it, we move carefully. We do not advertise. We do not let anyone decide our route for us."

Ash leaned back. "Leaf Team?"

Victor’s expression went colder. "Leaf Team wants her as their partner and because she is strong. They are not wrong to see her value. They are wrong if they think wanting means having."

Sarge cracked his knuckles. "Still can’t beat them."

"Not yet," Victor said.

The room went quiet again.

But not yet meant exactly what it sounded like, Leaf Team had the current advantage, Dimitri was stronger than Victor. Their formation was dangerous. Their reach was wider, if the matter came down to force tomorrow, Snow Team would bleed badly for it, and Victor knew that well enough to say it without dressing it up.

Damien’s silver eyes moved over the room. He could feel what the others were doing with it, how each of them took the fact and turned it over privately. Pride hated truth like that. Pride preferred lies. But men who survived long enough did not get to be precious about scale.

Tommy exhaled through his nose. "Then we get stronger."

Sarge’s grin came back, meaner this time. "There’s the spirit."

Pope folded his arms. "We also stop acting like we’re the only people in the apocalypse with functioning brains. If Leaf Team wants partnership, that means they’re thinking long term. They see what she is they see what we are becoming around her."

Ash tilted his head. "You say that like it bothers you."

"It does," Pope said plainly. "I hate other people being right about us."

Sarge laughed.

Victor ignored that. "Whether they want alliance or not, they are not immediate enemies. That matters."

Tommy nodded. "And the lizards?"

Victor’s face hardened further. "Immediate problem."

Sarge spread his hands. "Same thing."

Victor turned toward Damien. "Go to Rose. Tell her and Vineyard we’re leaving."

Damien nodded once.

Victor looked at Marx. "You’re with him."

Marx blinked. "Me?"

"Yes."

Tommy grinned into his hand. "Because you’re diplomatic."

"Fuck off," Marx said automatically.

Victor’s expression did not change. "You know the roads. You also know how to look terrifying in a way people listen to."

Marx considered that, then nodded with satisfaction. "True."

Damien glanced at him. "Try not to insult anyone we may need later."

Marx looked offended. "I’m very charming."

"No," Kai said.

"Not even a little," Ash added.

Marx pointed at them. "This is why I’m emotionally distant."

Victor ignored the exchange. "Tell Rose we’re heading west. Tell Vineyard they should make their own choices fast. If they stay, they stay knowing the ground is compromised."

Damien nodded again. "Understood."

Victor’s gaze shifted to Tommy and Colt, though Colt was not in the room yet. "Tommy, find Colt. We are leaving soon, which means tell the kindergarten teachers, Go grab Luna and Frost."

Tommy stared at him for half a second, "i am going to miss kindergarten."

Victor spoke again, voice cool and clipped now that the shape of the plan had started forming. "Everyone else stays alert for the lizards. We move in tighter rotations. No one alone outside the perimeter. No lazy assumptions because she is inside. No wandering. No gaps."

Ash nodded. "Got it."

Pope rolled one shoulder. "I’ll start sorting what matters and what gets left."

Tommy headed for the hall. "I’ll grab Colt."

Victor stopped him with a look. "Quietly."

Tommy gave him a dead stare. "You say that like I’m the problem."

"You are often the problem."

"That feels personal."

"It is."

Tommy left muttering under his breath.

The apartment started moving after that. Not chaotically. Snow Team were too used to relocation for that.

Pope stayed near the table, already pulling over old maps and half broken paper scraps with route notes on them. Ash joined him after a moment, dragging a chair around and dropping into it backward again.

"You really think Bowral’s worth it?" Ash asked.

Pope shrugged. "Worth more than sitting here waiting for the next person to decide they like our fox."

Ash’s mouth twitched. "You say our now."

Pope didn’t glance up from the map. "I say a lot of things."

"Mm."

Pope finally looked at him. "Don’t start."

Ash held up both hands. "I’m not starting anything. I just like hearing the evolution. First she was interesting, then she was useful and then she was the light, then she was terrifying and now she’s our fox."

Pope’s gaze flattened. "And yet somehow you’re still alive enough to be smug."

"That’s because I’m delightful."

"No," Pope said.

Ash grinned anyway.

Across the apartment, Damien and Marx were gathering what they needed before heading out.

"You sure you want me talking to Rose?" Marx asked.

Damien didn’t look up. "No."

"Rude."

"But Victor is right. You know the roads and she takes you seriously."

Marx snorted. "She takes me seriously because I’m large and right all the time."

Damien’s expression remained unchanged. "It’s mostly the large part."

Marx grinned. "I knew you cared."

Damien looked toward the hallway for a moment, toward the closed bedroom door.

Sarge followed the look.

"She okay?" he asked, more quietly now.

Damien’s silver eyes softened in a way that would have startled most people who had only ever seen him with a knife in his hand. "Exhausted."

Sarge nodded. "Lucan still glued to her?"

"Yes."

Ivan and Voss too, Damien could have added, but there was no need. The image was easy enough to picture. Lucan watching her like she was a miracle he still expected someone to steal, Ivan stationed beside her like a fortress with breath. Voss pretending relaxation while ready to break fingers for anyone who opened the wrong door too loudly.

Marx rubbed his jaw. "He fell fast."

Damien’s gaze returned to him. "So did you."

Marx blinked. "I’m normal about her."

Damien said nothing.

Marx frowned. "Rude."

They headed for the door.

Victor stopped them just before they left. "Fast in, fast out. No detours."

Marx saluted mockingly. "Yes, dad."

Victor looked at him long enough that Tommy, returning with Colt and the cubs in tow, winced in sympathy on Marx’s behalf.

Then Victor said, "If you get killed doing something stupid, I will be annoyed."

Marx grinned. "See? He loves me."

Damien opened the door and walked out first.

Marx followed, still too cheerful for a man heading into uncertain territory at night.

Victor walked back in the bedroom.

Felicity still slept in the center of the bed, tucked beneath the blanket now. One bunny ear had fallen over her forehead. Lucan had not moved far from where he had first set himself.

Voss lounged near the foot of the bed with one ankle hooked over the other.

Ivan sat with his back against the headboard, eyes half closed but not asleep.

All three of them looked at Victor when he entered.

"How bad?" Voss asked.

Victor shut the door quietly behind him. "Bad enough."

Lucan’s hand remained near Felicity’s waist on top of the blanket. "Speak."

Victor leaned against the wall. "We’re leaving. Heading west."

Voss’s eyebrow lifted. "West where?"

"Bowral."