Chapter Seven: Standing His GroundThe morning sun filtered through the cracked window of Martha’s small house, its faint warmth doing little to cut through the chilly air. Ethan was already awake, sitting on the edge of his cot, staring at his blistered hands. His muscles were sore, his body aching from the unfamiliar labor of the previous day. But the hum of Gus’s generator still echoed in his mind, a small victory in an otherwise hostile world.Martha walked into the room, her sharp eyes taking in his weary expression. She tossed a piece of bread onto the table in front of him. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”Ethan grabbed the bread, biting into it without hesitation. “What do you need me to do today?” he asked between bites.Martha smirked. “Gus said you did good, but don’t think that means the rest of the settlement is impressed. You’ve got to keep proving yourself.” She gestured toward the door. “Jake mentioned some supplies need moving over by the south yard. It’s backbrea

Ethan woke to the sound of soft rain tapping against the roof. The cool morning air seeped through the cracks in the walls, but the chill was nothing compared to the soreness that gripped his body. His ribs ached, and every movement sent sharp twinges of pain through his muscles. The fight with Eric had taken more out of him than he’d realized.Martha was already bustling around the kitchen when Ethan shuffled into the main room. She looked up from a pot simmering on the stove, her sharp eyes immediately scanning him.“You’re walking like an old man,” she said, smirking. “Did you bite off more than you could chew?”Ethan winced as he sat down at the table. “I won, didn’t I?”Martha snorted. “Winning doesn’t mean much if you can’t get out of bed the next day.”Ethan ignored her jab, his focus shifting to the plate of bread and boiled eggs she slid across the table. He ate quickly, the food giving him a small burst of energy. As he chewed, Martha leaned against the counter, watching him

The next morning, Ethan’s hand throbbed with a dull ache as he flexed his fingers. The cut Eric had made wasn’t deep, but it was enough to remind him of the constant tension he was living under. He wrapped it carefully with a piece of cloth Martha had given him and headed outside.The settlement was already buzzing with activity. People moved through the dirt paths, carrying supplies, fixing broken fences, and exchanging small talk. But when Ethan walked past, the usual glances were different now—there was a new kind of recognition. Respect, even.Jake met him by the scrapyard, leaning against a stack of rusted barrels. “You’re making a name for yourself,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Eric’s not happy about it.”Ethan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I didn’t come here to make friends.”Jake chuckled. “No, but you’re making enemies, and that’s just as good around here.”Ethan looked around warily. “What’s Eric planning now?”Jake’s smirk faded into a more s

Morning came too soon. Ethan lay awake on the stiff cot in Martha’s house, staring at the ceiling as the weight of his decision pressed against his chest. The settlement was already stirring, the distant hum of activity seeping through the thin walls. But his thoughts were louder.He had until sundown to give Eric an answer. And no matter how much he tried to convince himself there was another way, he kept circling back to the same conclusion: *He needed the money.*Pushing himself up with a groan, Ethan swung his legs over the side of the cot and rubbed his sore eyes. The fight with Eric, the grueling work, and the sleepless nights were taking their toll. But he couldn’t afford to stop.Martha was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of thin porridge when he walked in. She glanced at him, her eyes searching his face. “You look like a man with too many thoughts in his head,” she said without turning away from the stove.Ethan shrugged, taking a seat at the small wooden table. “I’m fine.”Ma

Ethan sat at the worn kitchen table, staring at the stack of cash in front of him. It wasn’t much—not nearly enough to get him out of this place—but it felt like a ticking time bomb. Every crinkled bill reminded him of the sirens, the shouts, and the pounding footsteps from the night before. Martha stood by the stove, her back to him, stirring a pot of something that smelled faintly of boiled potatoes. She hadn’t said much since he returned, but her silence spoke louder than words.Finally, she turned, wiping her hands on a rag. “You gonna sit there all day staring at it?” she asked, her voice laced with quiet disappointment.Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do with it.”Martha pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “That money’s got weight to it, Ethan. And it ain’t the kind that fills your pockets—it’s the kind that drags you down.”Ethan swallowed hard. “I thought it would feel different.”“It never does,” she said softly. “Easy money alway