Chapter 1230 Sealed
They all knew about the open secret between Ross and Bella, though no one spoke about it openly.
It was one of those uncomfortable truths everyone pretended not to see, even though it lingered in the air like an unspoken tension.
The situation was already complicated, but what made it worse was how it had begun—not out of desire, but as a side effect of a cure that had gone horribly wrong.
No one could have predicted it, and yet everyone had been forced to deal with the consequences.
To make matters even messier, Bella was married.
Her husband wasn’t some distant figure either—he was stationed at the same base, living and working among them.
That alone turned the entire affair into a volatile, morally tangled situation that no one wanted to touch.
Every glance, every casual interaction felt heavy with implication, and everyone was careful with their words, afraid of triggering something they didn’t want to face.
Lately, though, something had changed.
They no longer heard Bella’s screams echoing through the halls at night.
The sounds that once made people uneasy, unsure whether to feel concern, pity, or discomfort, had vanished completely.
The silence itself felt strange—almost unnatural compared to the chaos before.
Because of that, most of them assumed Bella had finally recovered.
They believed the effects of the cure had worn off and that whatever had been happening between her and Ross had ended.
No one had confirmation, but the absence of noise, tension, and whispered rumors was enough for them to quietly hope that the situation had resolved itself.
Still, in the back of their minds, a lingering doubt remained.
Some wounds, they knew, didn’t disappear just because the noise stopped.
Bella forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Fine. Just tired."
She wasn’t tired. She was seething with anger and she knew that she shouldn’t be.
That night, after lights-out dimmed the corridors to emergency red, Bella waited until the usual post-patrol lull. Sebastian had already retreated to his separate room—door closed, no questions asked.
Their new arrangement worked on paper: separate beds, separate lives, shared grief and occasional tenderness.
He didn’t ask what she did most nights. She didn’t tell him she still laid on bed smelling like Ross.
She padded up and down her room in bare feet, oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder, hair wild from restless tossing.
Her heart hammered harder with every minute padded.
When she heard a knock on the door, she immediately went to open it fast.
Ross was standing alone and he was as handsome as ever.
He smelled like gun oil, sweat, and the faint, lingering trace of Jenny—sweet and musky.
He looked up, calm as ever, but his eyes sharpened when he saw Bella’s face.
She kicked the door shut. The lock engaged with a metallic snap.
"How?" The word came out sharper than she meant. "How the fuck are you pulling this off? Patrols, runs, fixing generators, keeping the fence from collapsing from those dumb zombies—and then you come back here and fuck Jenny like she’s the center of the goddamn universe. Every. Single. Night. And you still manage to find time for me? What are you—some kind of machine? Is this another one of your ’abilities’? Enhanced endurance? Zombie virus side effect? What?"
Ross set the knife aside. Stood slowly.
Took one step toward her, reaching to cup her face and kiss her—the same slow, claiming kiss he always started with.
Bella jerked back, dodging his mouth. "Don’t. Not until you answer me. I’m not in the mood to be kissed quiet."
He dropped his hand.
Studied her for a long beat—chest rising and falling steady, expression unreadable except for the faint heat in his eyes.
"You want answers?" he said, voice low, almost gentle. "Then make me feel good first. While I talk."
Bella’s breath hitched. Anger and want twisted together so tight she couldn’t separate them.
She stared at him—his broad shoulders, the fresh scar across his ribs from last week’s run, the bulge already straining against his pants—and felt her resolve crack.
Without breaking eye contact, she sank to her knees.
Her fingers were shaking as she worked his belt open, yanked the zipper down, tugged his pants and boxers to mid-thigh.
His cock sprang free—thick, heavy, veined, already swelling under her gaze.
She wrapped her hand around the base, gave one firm stroke, then leaned in.
Her tongue dragged slow along the underside, from balls to tip.
She tasted salt, musk, the faint trace of Jenny from earlier that day. It should have pissed her off more.
Instead it lit something feral inside her.
She looked up—eyes blazing. "Talk."
Ross exhaled roughly. One hand settled in her hair—not pulling, just anchoring.
"First," he said calmly, "it’s not magic. It’s exactly what you guessed—just one of my abilities. And as for Jenny..." He paused, then smirked. "You don’t need to be jealous, Bella. I’m man enough for both of you."
He leaned back slightly, his tone turning teasing and provocative. "Besides, don’t you already have a husband? He still can’t get it up, can he?" Ross chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction.
Bella took him into her mouth—slow at first, lips stretching around the head, tongue swirling.
She hollowed her cheeks and sucked, drawing a low groan from him.
She pulled off with a wet pop. "And Sebastian? You think he’s fine with this? Separate rooms so he doesn’t have to hear me begging for your cock every night? So he doesn’t see the way I look when you’re inside me?"
Ross’s fingers flexed in her hair. "He suggested the rooms. After he walked in that one time—saw you face-down, ass up, coming so hard you were crying. Said it tore him apart. Not because he hates me. Because he still loves you enough to let you have what you need. Even if it’s not him."
Bella’s throat tightened. She took him deeper—past the back of her tongue, until her nose brushed his pelvis.