Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter 374: A Woman To Woo

Chapter 374: A Woman To Woo

Ronan didn’t bother to look back after he crossed the bridge. He didn’t need to. He felt it the second the house disappeared from this realm, taking Hattie away with it.

It was like there was a gaping hole in his chest, one that only Hattie could fill. However, Ronan knew well enough that until the house decided that they had completed their mission, he wouldn’t be able to see Hattie again.

The easy-going smile on his face slowly faded away, leaving an impassive expression. With his hand tucked in his pockets and his shoulders slouched forward, every inch of him screamed apathy.

Letting out a lazy yawn, Ronan slowly rotated his head, stretching out the sleeping muscles. Ever so slowly, his eyes closed until it looked like he was sleepwalking down the path in front of him.

But even though his eyes were closed, his entire body was alert. Watching. Calculating.

He could feel the eyes of other creatures on him as if they had found an easy prey, but that didn’t bother him. If anyone or anything actually wanted to try something, they would quickly understand just what he was capable of.

Yawning again, he thought about the task. ’Get stronger’ was an open concept, and one that everyone had an opinion about.

Lifting weights and training was a way of getting stronger, but it definitely wasn’t Ronan’s way.

Fighting? That was more his style, but even then, it seemed like a pointless waste of energy.

The ability to prove their worth? Yeah, that would be a way of getting stronger. Confidence did a lot for people. But Ronan was never about proving anything.

He knew who he was long before the demon started whispering in his ear, and there was a reason why Sloth chose him.

They were two sides of the same coin. Both of them loved to be underestimated, there was almost a thrill to pulling the wool over their opponent’s eyes.

However, for some reason, everyone seemed to think that Sloth was the lazy one, the one who did the bare minimum. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

And that was the point where he and Sloth bonded the most. They understood each other because like recognized like.

Ronan dropped his head to hide the smile on his face from anyone who was watching him. Hattie had never looked at him that way, as if he was lazy. Not once.

She didn’t mistake his desire for naps as being lazy, didn’t think that his stillness was a weakness. She trusted him to protect her in his own way and didn’t say a word.

And he did.

He protected her without fanfare, without needing a pat on the head or a parade. He was quiet, efficient, and if he did it right, she never even knew she was in trouble in the first place. He was more than content to follow her and where life led her. She was like a newborn kitten exploring the world for the first time.

And he would make sure that she was safe while she did it.

"Soul," sighed Sloth, his voice echoing in Ronan’s head.

"Yeah, yeah," replied Ronan, his eyes still closed as he ’stumbled’ down the path in front of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to give her their soul; it was just that he wasn’t sure that he deserved to.

Hattie was everything good in the world, and he didn’t have anything to offer her.

Everyone else had given something better. Blood, blades, Luca had his brain, Beau could save her life, Dante was the fucking powerful mafia boss type, Tank was blind in his loyalty, and Chang Xuefeng was the fucking Angel of Death.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he was.

And anger wasn’t him.

Taking a step back, Ronan leashed his emotions and stuffed them back into the box inside of him. He had to look at this with a clear head.

If he wanted to offer their soul, if he wanted a piece of Hattie forever with him, then he needed to give her something equal in value.

But nothing was equal to Hattie.

So, what did he have? Stillness? Apathy? A steady trigger finger?

None of that was enough. Not for his woman. Not for the Devil.

A twig snapped under his foot as he entered a clearing. In the middle was a throne, made of stone and bones, with a pillow and a blanket draped over the side.

"You been waitin’ for me, huh?" grunted Ronan, his eyes opening just a fraction. The eyes that had been following him all this way seemed to spread out, hiding in the shadows.

Whatever trap was set for him, it didn’t matter. He was one of the Seven Deadly Sins, even if he was one of the most forgotten one. Anyone who challenged him needed to remember that.

With a sigh, he dropped into the chair, pulling the blanket over him as he rested his cheek on his hand. Surprisingly, the stone was warm beneath him, like someone was sitting here before him.

Letting out a yawn, he pretended to fall asleep, ignoring the shift in the clearing. The roots beneath the chair pulsed, sending energy out from him to the rest of the clearing. Vines and branches started to move, to twist into people-like shapes.

Each one was a copy of the one beside it, and if Ronan bothered to open his eyes, he would see the face reflecting in the moonlight to be his own. It was his face, his body, his lazy slouch. Each and every one of them was dressed in the same dark clothes and the same heavy boots.

However, unlike Ronan’s eyes, theirs were hollow.

All of this was easy to see if Ronan would just look at them. But Ronan didn’t need to open his eyes to know where they were standing. Why would he care what they looked like? He didn’t need to see them to know they were the enemy, and he didn’t need to open his eyes to kill the enemy.

What could he say? It was a gift.

The clones, now completely autonomous, moved toward the sleeping Sin. They weren’t fast, but they were faster than him. Each step was more efficient, their determination clear.

They were Sloth without the humanity of Ronan. They were what the Sin could have been if he had chosen another meat sack.

They were the perfect soldier, the ultimate sniper, able to kill without remorse with just a word.

Coming to a stop a few feet from the throne, the clones raised their weapons. Guns, blades, fists, it didn’t matter; they were all pointed at him.

"Vraiment?" yawned Ronan. "Yer gonna make me fight myself?" He was more annoyed than worried. After all, there were a lot of clones in the clearing. Even with his skill, the kills would require effort. "Sounds like a bad joke."

Cracking open one eye, Ronan couldn’t help but be impressed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pull off the expression on the clone’s faces. Each one of them wasn’t a version of the human; they were a version of the Sin.

They were detached, uncaring... empty.

They understood as well as he did what the Sin of Sloth entailed, and it wasn’t laziness. At his core, Sloth was apathetic. It was the deadness inside of you that whispered that you didn’t matter. That you weren’t enough. That nothing you did would change anything, so why bother?

It was depression on steroids, and it was what Ronan was becoming before he met Hattie.

She was the one who stood as a shield between him and the black hole that haunted his nightmare. With her there, he wouldn’t turn to the apathy; he wouldn’t become simply a shell.

With her there, he could find a balance between the man and the Sin. It wasn’t an all-or-nothing thing. Not with her.

"Someone else will watch her," called a voice from the clearing. None of the clones’ mouths had moved, but he heard them in his head.

"Someone else will pull the trigger."

"Someone else can take your place in her bed."

Ronan dropped his head as a sinister smile appeared on his face. "No," he chuckled, his head snapping up as his blue eyes turned to ice. "I donna think so."

Pushing himself off the stone throne, he drew a massive rifle that had appeared like magic on his back. Effortlessly, like a dance as old as time, he moved. Each shot was perfect, each step calculated, his movements were slow, smooth. Each pull of the trigger caused another clone to fall to the jungle floor.

The man and Sin emerged into one as more and more clones were created, their movements becoming jerkier, less smooth. "Come on, den," grunted Ronan. "Who’s next? Let’s hurry up, I got a woman to woo."

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