The Undead and Unstoppable Apocalyptic Queen novel Chapter 636

**TITLE: Kept Woman 636**

“She resembles a goddess.”

The onlookers around her gaped, their eyes wide and unblinking, as if caught in a spell.

In this fractured era, beauty had become as rare as a flawless gem, a treasure hidden amidst the chaos.

At the onset of the fall, beauty had been a perilous gift. It attracted predators, turning women into prey, vulnerable to the harsh realities of their world.

Yet now, years later, beauty had transformed into a symbol of power. It represented influence and an unparalleled strength that only a few could hope to attain.

Everyone understood this truth. If someone managed to remain untainted and luminous amidst this wasteland, the force behind them was formidable.

With a calculated grace, Theresa descended from the helicopter, her movements sharp and deliberate. She appeared like a goddess striding among mere mortals, her presence igniting a beacon of light against the backdrop of the gray devastation surrounding them.

No one else could hold a candle to her.

Solan Rowen’s eyes sparkled with admiration when they landed on her. He stepped forward with a purposeful stride, his voice resonating with certainty. “You must be Ms. Hall?”

“I am,” Theresa replied, her gaze shifting to the man clad in a patched cotton coat that bore the marks of wear and tear.

He appeared to be in his thirties, his face unremarkable yet etched with a strict demeanor. His eyes, however, burned with an intensity that spoke of unwavering strength.

His hands were rough and calloused, evidence of relentless training and hard work.

He bore the same soldier’s gravity that Lucas possessed, a weight of experience that was palpable.

“You are Solan Rowen, the leader here?” she inquired, her tone steady.

“I am,” he confirmed, nodding briskly, a flicker of warmth lighting his eyes. “Welcome. You are genuinely welcome here.”

“Good to hear. Did Lucas inform you of the purpose of my visit?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“He did. Tomorrow morning, I will send my best fighters with you. They will follow your orders,” he assured her.

“Thank you,” Theresa responded, offering him a faint smile as she extended her hand in greeting.

Solan hesitated, his hand moving halfway before a sudden cough shattered the moment.

He withdrew his hand and rendered her a crisp salute instead.

Theresa’s gaze drifted past him, and she caught sight of a woman standing nearby, clad in a nearly new down coat.

The woman appeared to be just over thirty, her features striking yet her skin pale and weathered. Despite this, she radiated a health that surpassed most in the vicinity.

Her eyes pierced through to Theresa, sharp and laden with disdain.

Solan spoke up quickly, “This is my wife, Arwen.”

“Hello, Arwen,” Theresa greeted, offering a polite nod.

Arwen returned the gesture, but her expression remained flat and frigid.

Theresa followed him without hesitation, her pace unwavering.

Orren’s hand remained suspended in the air, frozen in awkwardness.

Irritation flickered across his face, but he quickly suppressed it, unwilling to reveal his frustration in front of the others.

As Theresa trailed Solan deeper into the camp, he arranged for a building to serve as her temporary residence and laid out a table brimming with food.

She sampled a few bites, then began to engage him in conversation.

Piece by piece, she unraveled the history of this camp.

Solan had once been a soldier before the world fell apart.

But his post had not been here. When the collapse occurred, he had traversed a thousand miles of desolate terrain from the west, fighting through the chaos.

He had one singular purpose: to save his wife.

Upon finally securing her safety, he had built this camp from the ground up.

His strength was undeniable, but it was his leadership that truly set him apart. His past as a soldier garnered him the respect of the survivors who had gathered here.

Step by step, he had transformed this place into what it had become.

Theresa listened intently, her gaze unwavering. He was no ordinary man; he was a survivor who had forged his life through fire and ruin.