Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse-Chapter 89: Smack

The rain cloud thinned to a mist and then to nothing, leaving the camp damp and smelling faintly of soap and wet concrete instead of heat and shame. Blankets were draped over broken railings to dry. Boots were set upside down against brick walls.

The shrine had survived under Ash’s tarp, though it now glistened in a way that made Pope look even more insufferably pleased. The morning light strengthened, turning the broken storefront windows into pale mirrors that reflected a group of men who had clearly lived through something ridiculous together and were trying very hard not to dissect it further.

Shadow and Draco stood just outside the main fire circle, close enough to Snow Team that it was obvious, far enough from Emma’s smaller cluster that it was deliberate.

Shadow’s massive grizzly frame was calm but coiled, shoulders broad, arms folded, gaze steady and heavy.

Draco’s presence was even more immovable, elephant power settled into stillness, dark skin slick from the earlier rain, jaw tight but controlled. They were not guests. They were not floaters. They had chosen a side and that choice was written plainly in where they stood.

Emma saw it.

Of course she did.

She approached slowly, tail swaying lightly, ears angled forward in what she probably thought was approachable curiosity. Josh stalked behind her like a guard dog with a short fuse. Robert trailed a few paces back, already scanning the ground for replacement sticks as if moisture had personally declared war on his hobbies.

Emma stopped just inside the circle of Snow Team’s attention and lifted her chin slightly, violet eyes soft. "Are we moving together today?" she asked gently. "We should probably stick close. Safety in numbers."

Shadow did not move.

Draco did not blink.

Shadow’s voice was quiet but iron wrapped in velvet. "There’s no we."

The words hung there.

Emma’s smile faltered for half a second before she smoothed it out.

"I mean-"

Shadow did not let her continue. "Me and my brother are staying. You guys do whatever."

Draco’s nod was slow and final.

Emma’s eyes flashed.

It was quick.

Pissed.

Then gone.

She laughed softly as if she’d misheard him. "Shadow, that’s not."

"It is," Shadow said.

Josh’s shoulders rolled, tension rising like a visible wave. "You don’t get to split like that."

Draco’s gaze shifted to him without heat, just weight. "We just did."

Robert snapped a small twig he’d found in half and muttered something about needing dry wood.

Josh’s nostrils flared. "We’ve been together this whole time."

Shadow’s eyes didn’t leave him. "That doesn’t make it permanent."

Marx leaned back with open interest. "This is getting spicy."

Sarge crossed his arms and watched the lines draw themselves.

Emma took a small step closer, voice still honeyed. "Shadow, Draco, we can talk about this. You don’t need to."

"We talked," Draco said calmly. "We decided."

Emma’s tail flicked sharply before she controlled it again.

She turned slightly, shifting tactics, letting her gaze drift over Snow Team instead. She smiled gently at Sam. At Kai. At Ash. At Pope.

Then her eyes landed on Tommy, who was still hovering near the drying blankets, very deliberately not looking in the direction of Victor’s building.

Tommy sensed her attention like a flare going off behind his back.

He froze.

He did not turn.

Emma walked toward him slowly, each step measured. "Tommy," she said softly, voice warm. "You okay? You look tired."

Tommy swallowed hard and turned just enough to be polite without making full eye contact. "I’m great."

Emma’s smile deepened. She reached out, placing her hand gently on his forearm, the gesture light and supportive, the kind of touch designed to create instant familiarity.

It did not go well.

Tommy flinched like he’d been burned.

His reflex was pure instinct, born from a morning where his body had already betrayed him once. He slapped her hand away sharply.

The sound cracked in the air.

Not a punch.

Not violent.

But abrupt.

Emma stumbled back half a step, violet eyes widening.

Josh saw red.

He lunged.

No warning.

No words.

He launched himself at Tommy like a coyote snapping at a threat.

He did not get far.

Sarge moved first.

Pope moved second.

Sarge’s hand caught Josh’s shoulder mid-lunge, twisting with precise force that redirected his momentum. Pope’s arm hooked under Josh’s other side in the same breath, using leverage rather than brute strength to slam him sideways into the wet concrete.

It happened in less than a blink.

Josh hit the ground hard. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Air left his lungs in a violent rush.

Before he could recover, Sarge had a knee planted between his shoulder blades and Pope had both hands pinning his wrists with a grip that was disturbingly firm for someone who talked about light like it was a personality trait.

"Don’t," Sarge said flatly.

Josh snarled, muscles straining.

"You don’t touch her."

Tommy’s face had gone white.

"She touched me," Tommy snapped, still shaken.

Emma’s hand hovered near her chest, expression wounded, as if she couldn’t understand what had just happened. "I was just-"

Shadow’s voice cut in. "Don’t."

Emma turned toward him, eyes wide.

"I was just checking on him."

Draco’s jaw flexed. "You were testing him."

Robert stepped forward, anger rising. "He hit her."

Marx rolled his shoulders lazily. "He flinched."

Josh bucked under Sarge and Pope’s hold. "Get off ME."

Sarge leaned his weight down deliberately. "You came at my team."

Pope’s voice was calm but steel. "Not wise."

Josh’s face was red with rage. "He struck her."

Tommy’s voice cracked with indignation and leftover adrenaline. "I slapped your hand away. That’s different."

Emma’s eyes flicked between them, calculating.

She pivoted smoothly.

Instead of defending Josh, she stepped away from him and ran toward the street just as Voss and Ivan reappeared at the far end, returning from the settlers.

"Voss," she called, voice breaking just enough to sound desperate. "They attacked Josh."

Voss did not rush forward.

He did not even speed up.

He simply kept walking, eyes scanning the scene.

He saw Josh pinned.

He saw Sarge and Pope holding him.

He saw Tommy standing stiff and shaken.

He saw Emma’s hand slightly red from being slapped away.

He saw Shadow and Draco standing firmly with Snow Team.

He saw everything.

Emma reached him and tried to grab his arm for support.

Voss stepped aside.

Not aggressively.

Not violently.

Just enough that her hand found air instead of muscle.

Emma stumbled.

Her foot slipped slightly on the wet concrete.

She caught herself, barely.

Her face flushed dark.

Josh saw it.

He roared.

The sound tore out of him, wild and humiliated.

Robert roared with him, charging forward in a blind burst of Tasmanian devil aggression.

Ivan stepped in without hesitation.

He caught Robert by the collar and simply redirected him with calm, brutal efficiency straight into a water trough Tommy had left behind.

Robert went face first into soapy water.

He came up spluttering and furious.

Ivan did not blink. "Enough."

Draco stepped forward once.

Not toward Snow Team.

Toward Josh.

His shadow fell over the pinned coyote.

"Stop," Draco said.

It was not loud.

It did not need to be.

Josh stilled.

Shadow moved to stand at Draco’s side, massive and immovable.

"There’s no we," Shadow repeated calmly, gaze flicking toward Emma this time. "You made that choice clear."

Emma’s violet eyes burned for half a second before she smoothed them again, wounded innocence sliding back into place.

"I didn’t mean."

"You did," Shadow said.

Sarge finally eased pressure just enough for Josh to breathe without choking but did not remove his knee.

"You’re not touching my team," Sarge said.

Pope released one wrist but stayed ready.

Marx leaned in, tone almost conversational. "You really want to start something in the middle of town with zombies still wandering."

As if summoned by the word, a distant groan drifted down the street.

Heads turned.

Shadow’s nose twitched.

Draco’s ears angled.

From the far corner near the old petrol station, three figures staggered into view, drawn by the shouting.

Rotting.

Slow.

Hungry.

Victor’s building door had not opened yet.

Felicity was still inside.

Sarge’s voice cut clean and sharp. "Positions."

Josh was released immediately.

Snow Team shifted in perfect coordination.

Shadow and Draco did not hesitate.

They moved with them.

Emma and her men were left a half step behind the line.

The zombies lurched closer, arms jerking, mouths open.

And then the door to Victor’s building opened.

Felicity stepped out into the morning light.

Red dress soft against the gray world.

Hair slightly mussed.

Eyes bright and alert.

She saw the zombies first.

Then the tension.

Then the line of men shifting into battle stance.

She did not hesitate.

She lifted her hands.

The buff flared outward in a golden pulse that rolled across the camp like a warm shockwave.

Every man felt it, Not Josh or Robbert.

Muscle tightened.

Reflex sharpened.

Senses snapped into clarity.

The memory of the morning evaporated under the clarity of combat.

Victor was behind her in an instant, wings unfurling slightly.

Damien stepped to her other side.

Ivan pivoted.

Voss moved.

Shadow’s grizzly strength surged under the buff, his claws flexing as he stepped forward.

Draco’s elephant weight grounded into the pavement like a living barricade.

The zombies did not stand a chance.

They were torn down in seconds.

Victor crushed one skull with brutal efficiency.

Damien’s tail hooked and snapped another’s neck.

Shadow swiped with controlled force, sending one body slamming into a wall.

Draco simply walked through the last one, massive hand closing around its head and ending it with a twist that sounded like cracking wood.

Silence fell again.

Felicity lowered her hands slowly.

The golden glow faded.

Her eyes moved over the camp.

Over the damp ground.

Over Josh still breathing hard.

Over Robert dripping soap water.

Over Emma’s carefully composed face.

"What happened," Felicity asked gently.

No one answered immediately.

Sarge finally spoke.

"Nothing we couldn’t handle."

Emma stepped forward quickly, tone soft and wounded. "It was a misunderstanding."

Shadow’s gaze did not leave her.

Draco’s jaw remained tight.

Josh stared at the ground.

Robert squeezed water from his sleeves and glared.

Voss looked at Emma once, expression unreadable.

Ivan flicked a glance at Robert and then at the street, already recalculating the next move.

Tommy stood very still, trying not to look at Felicity directly, mumbling under his breath. "I can’t look at her I can’t look at her I can’t look at her."

Colt leaned toward him and whispered, "You’re glowing."

Tommy hissed. "Shut up."

Felicity stepped fully into the circle now, eyes moving between them all, unaware of the exact shape of what had just happened but sensing the fracture line running through it.

Emma smiled at her

Sweet.

Soft.

Perfect.

Shadow looked at Draco.

Draco nodded once.

They were staying.

And Emma knew it.