The Undead and Unstoppable Apocalyptic Queen novel Chapter 645

**TITLE: Kept Woman 645**
**Chapter 645: Fists of Fury**

A cacophony of groans and shuffling feet echoed behind them as hundreds of zombies thundered down the tracks, a relentless wave of decay and hunger in pursuit.

With adrenaline coursing through her veins, Theresa sprinted, her heart pounding like a war drum. She reached the edge of the open roof, her fingers gripping the metal frame with fierce determination. In one swift motion, she yanked Quentin into the truck, the force of her pull sending him tumbling inside.

As she landed, her gaze immediately fell upon two unfamiliar women huddled together in the back of the truck, their faces pale and wide-eyed with fear.

“Who are you?” Theresa demanded, her voice slicing through the tension like a knife. The coldness in her tone left no room for pleasantries.

“I saved them!” Orren shouted from the passenger seat, his chest puffed out with an inflated sense of pride. “You should’ve seen it—zombies were everywhere! They were too exhausted to run, just collapsed right on the tracks, about to be swarmed! I jumped right into the horde and pulled them both out!”

With every word he spoke, Theresa felt her temper ignite further.

So, this was the reason her last order had been delayed—because this fool had chosen to play the hero instead of following instructions.

Thank goodness Louisa and her team had managed to execute their plan with precision. Their timely explosions had drawn most of the horde away; otherwise, Theresa would have been trapped in that underground lot, facing a fate worse than death.

“See that?” Orren continued, his smirk growing wider. “I’m not just some coward hiding behind my sister and Solan. You see me now—”

But he never got to finish his boastful statement.

In a flash, Theresa lunged forward, yanking him out of the passenger seat with a ferocity that surprised even her. She unleashed a storm of punches, each one landing with bone-crunching force, echoing like thunderclaps of fury in the confined space of the truck.

“I have never encountered anyone as brainless as you,” she spat between blows, her voice dripping with disdain. “Did you drink tainted milk as a child or eat fertilizer for breakfast? Everyone else manages to grow a brain, but yours seems to have transformed into a tumor. You weigh one-thirty, and I’d bet a hundred-twenty of that is pure nonsense. Even dung beetles would find you a paradise, and zombies? They turn the other way at the mere sight of you!”

She struck him again, her voice rising with each insult. “Because even the undead know better than to munch on someone whose head is filled with sh*t!”

The atmosphere in the truck grew thick with tension as everyone else fell silent, their eyes wide with shock. Each insult was punctuated by a blow, and soon Orren’s face was a grotesque canvas of bruises and blood.

“Useless! Worthless! You screw up everything you touch!” she bellowed, her voice echoing off the metal walls.

Orren, battered and gasping for breath, managed to retort between painful coughs, “I’m not useless! You can call me stupid all you want—but I’m not worthless!”

Theresa locked eyes with him, his defiance only fueling her rage. A low, humorless laugh escaped her lips as she finally let him drop, treating him like discarded trash.

He was hopeless.

There was no sense of satisfaction in beating someone so foolish—it felt akin to stepping in a pile of filth.

Putting schemers and hypocrites in their place was therapeutic, but thrashing a fool? That merely gave her a headache.

She wouldn’t waste her breath arguing with a sewer.

Turning away, she refused to glance back at him, opting instead to ignore his existence entirely. The best way to deal with a cesspool was to pretend it didn’t exist.

But Orren’s anger flared, his frustration boiling over. He jabbed a trembling finger towards the two women in the back seat—a mother and daughter, clinging to one another in fear.

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