The Undead and Unstoppable Apocalyptic Queen novel Chapter 637

**TITLE: Kept Woman 637**
**CONTENT: Chapter 637 Talks**

Under Solan’s command, the camp operated with an almost militaristic precision. Every inch of the area bore his unmistakable mark, a testament to his bravery and cunning. He was a man who had perfected the art of leadership, displaying no visible flaws in his demeanor or decisions. Yet, beneath that hardened exterior lay a singular vulnerability: his wife, Arwen.

This vulnerability extended to her brother, Orren, a fact that Solan indulged without restraint. He spoiled Orren in ways that others could only envy, showering him with attention and resources that were scarce in their world.

Theresa, ever observant, needed only a fleeting glance at their attire to discern the truth of their situation. Solan was clad in patched fabric, remnants of a time when clothing was less threadbare, while Arwen donned a coat that looked almost pristine, a stark contrast to her husband’s worn garments. Orren, however, was the most fortunate of the trio, dressed in a sharply tailored outfit, his boots gleaming and his jacket immaculate.

But this was Solan’s family, and he had chosen to live in such disparity. It was not Theresa’s place to intervene or judge. What truly mattered was the condition of the camp, a reflection of Solan’s leadership and the lives dependent on his decisions.

Solan Camp was home to over eight thousand souls, each day a struggle to make ends meet. They barely scraped by, clinging to the hope of survival. In the early days of the collapse, Solan had fought valiantly to seize control of a grain depot, a victory that had offered them a glimmer of hope. But as time wore on, food supplies dwindled and the relentless zombie hordes grew ever more menacing. Now, acquiring resources from the outside world had become nearly impossible.

In this moment of desperation, Solan turned to Theresa, his eyes pleading for hope. He needed food, and he needed it from her.

Theresa listened intently as he recounted their dire circumstances. Her heart ached for the man before her, yet she understood the weight of the situation. After a moment of contemplation, she nodded, a flicker of determination igniting within her.

“When I return, I’ll have supplies sent your way,” she assured him, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside her.

Though she had resources at her disposal, she kept them concealed, knowing that revealing them now would only paint a target on her back. To expose her assets would be akin to inviting danger into her life.

Solan’s expression shifted as he absorbed her promise, his eyes igniting with a fervent excitement. He raised his glass, filling it to the brim, and lifted it high in a toast. “Thank you, Ms. Hall. I shall drink to honor you!”

But before he could indulge, Arwen’s voice pierced through the air like a whip. “What are you doing! Didn’t you swear to me you’d stop drinking?”

Solan chuckled, a guilty grin spreading across his face. “It’s a happy occasion, Arwen. Just a few sips.”

Her eyes flared with indignation. “That’s your excuse? Why don’t you just swallow garbage instead?”

He attempted to placate her, still smiling despite the tension. “We have a guest here. Please, let me maintain some dignity.”

But Arwen’s hand struck the table with a resounding crack, her words lashing out like a whip. “You want dignity, or you want me? You worthless fool, drink tonight and don’t you dare come near my bed. Stay the hell away!” With that, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

“Arwen!” Solan called after her, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and concern. On any other day, he would have rushed after her, but with Theresa present, he felt compelled to remain.

He turned back to face Theresa, forcing a stiff smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Forgive that. She gets carried away sometimes.”

Theresa raised a hand, her expression calm. “It’s fine. To me, it shows you’re a rare man.”

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