Surviving the Apocalypse With My Yandere Ex-Girlfriend-Chapter 59: We own this city

Hailey woke with a gasp.

Her body jolted upright, lungs burning as if she’d been dragged up from deep water. Sweat soaked her clothes, clung cold to her skin. Every nerve screamed—bruises blooming under the surface, muscles tight and aching. Her head throbbed worse than the rest, pressure grinding behind her eyes like something trying to claw its way out.

Memory slammed into place all at once.

The bed creaked as she forced herself upright. Her feet hit the floor.

Cold.

Not just cool—wintry. The kind that seeped into bone. Fever-cold.

She blinked hard and dragged a hand through her hair, steadying herself.

"...Hailey...?" a voice came from the other side of the door. Timid. Muffled. "I— I have something important to tell you."

Her eyes snapped toward the sound.

She didn’t answer immediately. Her throat felt raw, scraped out.

"Just a minute," she muttered at last. Her voice came out hoarse. Wrong.

She turned toward the bathroom.

The light flicked on. Too bright. She leaned over the basin, twisted the faucet, and let cold water run over her hands before splashing it onto her face—again and again—like she could rinse the exhaustion away.

When she finally looked up—

Her breath caught.

"What the fuck...?" she whispered.

She leaned closer to the mirror, pressing a finger beneath her right eye.

The left was faintly red.

The right—

Bloodshot. Veins spiderwebbed violently across the white, angry and wrong, like something had ruptured beneath the surface.

"...Shit."

Minutes later, an eyepatch secured in place, she opened the door.

"What—"

The words died in her throat.

One of her men stood there, swaying. Blood soaked through his clothes, streaked down his face. His eyes were glassy, unfocused—barely conscious.

Behind him—

Lila.

She looked untouched.

Calm.

Her expression was flat, almost bored—save for the faint curl at the corner of her mouth. Something satisfied. Something cruel.

Hailey stumbled back as Lila shoved the man forward.

He hit the floor hard, boneless.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Lila moved.

A knife flashed.

Hailey barely had time to register it before she twisted aside, steel slicing the air where her throat had been. Adrenaline detonated through her system as she scrambled backward, heart slamming against her ribs.

Lila pressed in relentlessly.

They exchanged blows— clumsy, desperate, violent. Furniture scraped. Something shattered.

Hailey went down hard.

She clawed toward her desk, fingers stretching for the pistol—

Too slow.

Lila’s boot came down on Hailey’s hand.

Bones screamed.

Hailey cried out as pain ripped through her arm, white-hot and blinding.

Lila didn’t hesitate.

She dragged Hailey back, flipped her over, and began to pummel her—methodical, brutal, every strike deliberate.

"I’ve been waiting too long to do this," Lila said.

Her voice shook—not with fear, but with restrained fury. A thin, unstable smile spread across her face.

She leaned down, pinning Hailey’s wrists above her head. Dark blonde hair brushed Hailey’s cheek as she loomed close, eyes burning.

"Now," Lila said softly, "let me explain something to you."

Hailey struggled. Lila’s nails dug into her skin.

"You don’t own Adrian," Lila continued. "You never did. And you never will."

Hailey screamed as pressure increased, pain blooming everywhere at once.

"You’ve been replaced," Lila said flatly. "Just accept it. He tells me he loves me." Her smile sharpened. "He’ll never say that to you. Not anymore."

Tears spilled down Hailey’s face despite herself.

"Adrian told me not to kill you when I did this," Lila went on.

A pause.

"But the only reason I’m not going to..." she leaned closer, trembling with anger, voice dropping,

"...is because I pity you."

Silence swallowed the room.

Hailey lay bleeding, vision swimming. Her arms burned. Her face throbbed.

Lila stood over her— unmarked. Untouched. Almost serene in her violence.

Then—

Hailey laughed.

It was sharp. Broken. It scraped its way out of her chest like shattered glass.

Lila’s expression darkened instantly.

"So," Hailey spat through blood and breathless laughter, "you really think he loves you?"

Silence.

"He’s just using you," Hailey continued. "He used you then—to scare my people. And he’s using you now."

Lila didn’t move.

"You think when he finds a hotter blonde bitch he won’t abandon you?" Hailey sneered. "You’re already a fucking handful. I can tell. He must hate you."

The punch came fast.

Hailey’s head snapped to the side.

She laughed harder.

Lila stood over her, breathing heavy, eyes cold.

"Get up," Lila spat.

The command landed heavier than the blow.

And for the first time since she’d woken—

Hailey wasn’t sure which of them was bleeding more.

I pulled my hostage closer, the barrel of my gun pressed hard to the side of her head.

She shook violently in my grip.

Around us, weapons rose in unison.

Rifles. Pistols. Shotguns. Red dots dancing across my chest, my arms, my face. One twitch—one mistake—and I’d be ventilated where I stood.

Beside me were Hale, Peter, Terri... the others packed tight, backs to each other, forming a rough knot of bodies and steel. Aubrey stood just off to my right, Cherie slung over her shoulder like dead weight she refused to let touch the ground.

We were outside the infirmary.

Floodlights burned overhead, harsh and unforgiving.

My pulse was steady.

That was how I knew the fracture had already settled.

Angelo.

My predictions about him had been right. Painfully right.

And if Lila did what she said she would—

I tightened my grip and spoke before doubt could spread.

"Lower your fucking weapons," I said. My voice carried—clear, sharp, unshaking. "This is Hailey’s top enforcer. And I’m not afraid to shoot her."

The crowd reacted instantly.

Anger flared. Fear followed. Frustration twisted faces tight. I pressed the gun harder into her temple to make the point undeniable.

She clawed at my arm, nails scraping uselessly against fabric and skin.

"DO IT!" she screamed suddenly, hysterical. "Fucking shoot the kid—! I’m not worth it! Just do it!"

Her voice cracked.

For a split second—

They hesitated.

I saw it. The shift. The calculation.

They were considering it.

My stomach tightened.

I adjusted my hold, forcing her upright, forcing control back into the moment.

"I also have Hailey," I said immediately, loud enough to snap them back. "She’s alive. For now. You let us walk— and she doesn’t die either."

That caught them.

Just for a heartbeat.

Then—

"The kid’s lying!"

Angelo’s voice tore through the tension like a gunshot.

"He’s bluffing!" he shouted, pushing forward. "He doesn’t have your leader! He’s just sayin’ that to rattle you—!"

My jaw tightened.

Fuck.

I was losing them too quickly.

I braced myself, already calculating angles, already accepting the bloodbath—

"HEY!"

The shout cut everything off.

A familiar voice.

The crowd shifted violently as someone forced their way through.

Then—

There she was.

Lila.

Her arm was locked around Hailey’s throat from behind, a knife pressed tight beneath her jaw. Hailey stumbled, battered and barely upright, blood smeared across her arms and face. Her eyes were dull— not with pain, but with something far worse.

Defeat.

Weapons lowered immediately.

Not slowly.

Not reluctantly.

They dropped.

I felt something in my chest loosen.

I almost smiled.

Almost.

We’d won.

I forced myself not to look at Hailey for too long. Whatever was on her face—it wasn’t something I could afford to feel.

There was silence.

"We’ll be taking sixty percent of your guns," I said coolly.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"And two—" I corrected myself, eyes scanning the vehicles beyond the lights, "no. Three of your best Humvees."

The murmurs swelled—

"HEY!"

The enforcer in my grip snapped, her voice cutting through the noise.

"Just—" she swallowed hard, shoulders sagging,

"just do what the kid fucking says.."

Silence fell.

We moved.

The crowd parted reluctantly as we pushed through. Hale walked beside me, rifle slung loose but ready, eyes filled with open contempt. Terri hugged herself tightly, face pale, shaken despite the victory. Peter kept his head down, moving fast, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

Cherie, however—

She didn’t miss a beat.

From Aubrey’s shoulder, she stuck her tongue out and flipped them off, even with 3 fingers gone, smiling like she’d just won something she planned to brag about forever.

My steps slowed.

Just once.

I looked back.

Hailey stood where we’d left her, barely upright, Lila’s knife still close, her expression hollowed out— like something essential had been carved away.

"I’m sorry, Hailey," I said quietly.

She didn’t respond.

Didn’t even really look at me.

But Lila did.

Her eyes burned into me.

I turned away.

And we walked into the dark—

armed, alive, and finally free.

The skyline of St. Louis rose like a broken crown against the gray.

Burned-out buildings slouched against one another. Collapsed bridges sagged over dead water. Rusted steel jutted upward in crooked lines, reaching for a sky that hadn’t cared in years.

Vivian sat back in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the window, chin propped loosely in her hand.

Bored.

Her gaze drifted across the ruins without interest—empty streets, skeletal towers, the same decay she’d seen in a dozen other cities. Nothing here was new. Nothing here mattered.

"Don’t slow," she said idly.

The vehicle rolled forward beneath an overpass.

Then—

"Stop."

The word cut clean through the engine’s hum.

The driver hesitated only a fraction of a second before braking. The vehicle lurched gently to a halt.

Vivian leaned forward, fingers curling against the glass.

There it was.

Spray-painted across cracked concrete in jagged, furious red letters:

HAILEY OWNS ST. LOUIS

The paint dripped unevenly, strokes overlapping as if whoever had written it hadn’t trusted themselves to be seen the first time.

Sloppy.

Angry.

Trying far too hard.

Vivian stared at it in silence.

Her bored expression didn’t change at first.

Then— slowly— something else crept in.

Recognition.

A soft laugh slipped from her throat.

Sharp. Controlled. Amused.

Not joy. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Never joy.

"So you finally found a throne," she murmured.

"That’s... adorable."

She leaned back again, eyes never leaving the words.

She remembered Hailey differently.

Smaller. Louder. Always performing for an audience that never quite existed. Desperate to be noticed. Desperate to matter.

Always posturing.

Always pretending.

Vivian’s lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile— sadistic in its patience.

"Still pathetic," she said quietly.

The driver waited.

After a moment, Vivian waved a hand without looking away.

"Go."

The vehicle pulled forward, the graffiti sliding out of view, swallowed by concrete and shadow.

Vivian settled back into her seat.

And for the first time since crossing into the city—

She looked genuinely entertained.