[Scene 1 – After the Feeding]
The street smells like copper and rain. I'm leaning against a wall in my house, clutching my arm where I cut myself. The three sisters — Level One, Level Two, Level Three — crouch in front of me, licking the last of my blood from their lips like it's the first real meal they've had in weeks.
The girl I've been keeping in the safehouse — the one who called them her sisters — stands between us. Her eyes are sharp, scanning for any sudden moves from either side.
"You're still alive," she says, almost like it's a surprise.
[Scene 2 – The Offer]
I spit blood from my mouth, straightening up. "You've had your taste. Now you leave."
Level Two hisses, her body twitching with pent-up energy. "We don't… leave… what's ours."
I raise my machete halfway. "I'm not yours."
The girl steps forward. "Then maybe we should make a deal."
My instinct is to laugh, but there's nothing funny about this. "A deal? With you?"
She nods slowly. "You give us what we need. We give you what you want."
"And what exactly do you think I want?" I ask.
"Survival," she says simply.
[Scene 3 – The Stakes]
Level One speaks for the first time, her voice soft and trembling: "We could've killed you. All of us."
Level Three tilts her head, claws curling into the pavement. "We still can."
I glance between them. My heart's pounding, but I keep my voice even. "So your offer is — I keep feeding you my flesh, and you… what? Play bodyguards?"
The girl smiles faintly. "Exactly."
[Scene 4 – Terms]
I think about it. The city's full of dangers — not just zombies. Scavenger gangs. Rogue military. And if these sisters are as strong as they look, having them on my side might not be the worst thing.
But there's something in their eyes. Hunger that doesn't go away.
"One rule," I say. "You don't touch me unless I give the word. And if you ever come at me without permission — I kill you. All of you."
Level Two smirks. "You can try."
Level One glares at her, then nods to me. "We accept."
[Scene 5 – Sealing the Pact]
The girl steps closer. "Then it's settled." She takes my hand — her skin is cold but her grip is strong — and presses her lips briefly to the wound on my arm.
A shiver runs through me.
"You're ours now," she says softly. "And we're yours."
I'm not sure if it's a promise… or a threat.