The Garden of Decay

Chapter 8

The night pressed heavy and cold against the small windows of (Y/N)'s cabin. She lay on the narrow bed, tangled in thin sheets that clung to her like vines, trapping her in the folds of her own restless mind. Outside, the Garden was still and quiet, a peaceful contrast to the chaos that haunted her dreams.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she tossed and turned, her body tense as though bracing for an unseen attack. In her nightmare, the familiar horrors of the outside world rushed back to her: the crumbling buildings, the rotting stench of the undead, the endless chase through the night as she ran, always just a few steps ahead of the ravenous horde.

In her mind's eye, the Garden's walls weren't strong enough, weren't high enough. The zombies broke through, pouring over the barricades, their decayed faces snarling, skeletal hands reaching for her. She ran and ran, but her feet felt like they were sinking into the earth, every step dragging her deeper into the dirt.

Then, she stumbled, her body hitting the ground hard as the horde descended upon her.

Her eyes snapped open, her heart pounding as though it might tear through her chest. She sat up abruptly, her hands shaking as she gripped the edge of the bed. The cabin was dark, the dim moonlight barely seeping through the cracks in the wooden walls. But even the Garden's serene night couldn't dispel the terror that clung to her, wrapping around her like a second skin.

She rubbed at her eyes, trying to shake off the lingering dread. The nightmares had been less frequent since she'd arrived at the Garden, but they still came for her, dragging her back to the world she'd left behind, reminding her that safety was never guaranteed.

(Y/N) swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. She needed air, something to ground herself. Pulling a thin blanket around her shoulders, she quietly opened the door to the cabin and stepped outside, into the garden's nighttime stillness.

The air was crisp, carrying the earthy scent of flowers and damp soil. For a moment, she stood there, breathing in the silence, trying to let the calm of the place wash over her.

But then, a rustle in the shadows caught her attention.

Before she could react, a figure stepped forward from the darkness, moving with quiet purpose. The sharp, instinctual fear that gripped her quickly dissolved as she recognized him.

Thorne.

He was standing a few feet away, his silhouette large and imposing against the faint moonlight. His dark hair was tousled, and his eyes, though sharp, softened slightly when they met hers. She hadn't expected anyone else to be awake at this hour, least of all him.

"You're not sleeping," he said quietly, though it wasn't a question. He stepped closer, his boots barely making a sound on the earth.

(Y/N) forced a small, tired smile. "I could say the same for you."

Thorne's expression didn't change, but there was a slight tilt to his head as he regarded her. "I don't sleep much."

She nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Nightmares," she offered softly, hoping it explained the unease that must still be clear on her face.

For a moment, Thorne didn't respond. He stood there, looking at her with those dark, intense eyes, and she could feel the weight of his scrutiny. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her vulnerable — he had been keeping an eye on her since her arrival, always watchful, always guarding. But something about this moment felt different. More personal.

"I get them too," he admitted after a pause, his voice lower now, rougher around the edges. There was something in his tone that hinted at his own battles, the ones he kept hidden behind his hardened exterior.

The admission surprised her. Thorne wasn't the type to open up easily, let alone about something as personal as nightmares. It made her wonder what haunted him when the Garden slept, what memories from the outside world clung to him in the dark.

Without thinking, she stepped closer, the proximity between them shrinking. She didn't know why, but being near him made her feel safer, more grounded. Maybe it was the way he always seemed so steady, like a solid wall that wouldn't crumble no matter how much the world pressed in on him.

"I didn't think anything could shake you," she said softly, offering a small, tentative smile.

Thorne's lips twitched, a flicker of something almost like amusement, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not unshakable, (Y/N). No one is."

There was a strange comfort in that admission, in knowing that even someone as strong and seemingly unbreakable as Thorne had his own demons. It made the world feel a little less lonely.

For a long moment, they stood there in the quiet, the tension between them different now — less guarded, more vulnerable. Thorne's eyes lingered on her, and she could feel the weight of his presence, the way he seemed to take in every detail of her: the way her hands shook slightly, the way her breath hitched when the memories of the nightmare resurfaced.

Without warning, Thorne reached out, his hand brushing against her shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone so rugged. "You don't have to fight this alone," he said, his voice low but firm. "Not here."

The possessiveness in his words wasn't overt, but it was there, lurking just beneath the surface. It was a subtle claim, a promise that he would be the one to keep her safe, even if the cost was higher than she knew. But it also wasn't a promise born of selflessness. There was something deeper in his gaze, something possessive that sent a small shiver down her spine.

"I'll protect you," he added, his hand resting on her shoulder a moment longer before he pulled away, stepping back as though reminding himself to keep his distance. "From the nightmares, from whatever's out there... even from Lucien if I have to."

His last words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. She couldn't help but remember his earlier warning about Lucien, the distrust that simmered beneath the surface between them. It was clear now that Thorne saw Lucien not just as a rival, but as a potential threat — to the Garden, to their survival, and perhaps even to her.

"I don't need protecting from Lucien," (Y/N) said, though her voice wavered slightly as she spoke. She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince herself or Thorne.

Thorne's jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, a flicker of frustration crossed his face. But then it was gone, replaced by the familiar stoic mask he always wore. "Just be careful," he said. "Lucien's not what he seems. None of us are."

That last line struck her, settling deep in her chest. There was a warning there, hidden beneath the words. But whether it was a warning about Lucien or about Thorne himself, she couldn't tell.

As the night deepened and the Garden grew quieter still, (Y/N) found herself looking at Thorne in a new light. He wasn't just the hardened protector of the Garden, nor was he the gruff, distant figure she had first met. There was a softness in him, a hidden vulnerability that he kept tightly guarded, but that she had glimpsed tonight.

Yet, alongside that vulnerability, there was something darker. The possessiveness in his gaze, the way he seemed to stake his claim on her without words. It wasn't overt, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface.

And for reasons she couldn't fully understand, she didn't mind.

As they stood in the quiet of the Garden, the nightmares slowly fading, (Y/N) realized that something had shifted between them. Thorne had begun to let her in, to lower the walls he had so carefully built around himself. But as she looked into his eyes, she also knew that he wasn't letting go of his control. If anything, he was pulling her deeper into his world, drawing her closer to him, even as the shadows of the Garden still loomed large around them.

Thorne might be her protector, but he was also becoming something more. And that thought, though comforting in the moment, carried its own danger.