Days bled together in Villian Ville.
Every night was a fight to survive. Every day was a reminder of who they had lost. And through it all, Tim's frustration only grew heavier.
No one dared join the Tidam Alliance.
The Ville whispered that Tim was cursed, that Jenny's wrath shadowed him. Fighters dodged his gaze. Survivors melted into alleys when he passed. The message was clear: anyone who stood with him was signing their death warrant.
Tim clenched his fists each night after the kills, grinding his teeth as he returned to their hideout. He carried his rage like a boulder on his back, and with it came a hunger he refused to feed. He hadn't touched anyone since Tammy.
The tension was eating him alive.
Lacey noticed.
She watched him sit by the fire, knife clutched so tight his knuckles whitened. His jaw was locked, his eyes shadowed. He was unraveling, and if their leader broke, Tidam would crumble.
That night, when Yuko and Amy huddled close, whispering about their future, Lacey finally spoke.
"He needs release," she said softly, eyes flicking toward Tim. "Not just in blood. He hasn't touched anyone since Tammy. He's drowning."
Amy tilted her head like a curious kitten. "So… sex?"
Lacey nodded, her voice firmer now. "If he keeps carrying this weight, he'll snap. We need him clear, strong. I'll do it."
Yuko smirked knowingly. "If you're going to do it, make it count. Don't just give him comfort. Break the ghost Jenny left in his head."
Amy giggled and clapped softly. "We'll help. Set the stage. Make it perfect."
And so they did.
That night, when Tim returned after the kill, the hideout felt different.
Candles flickered low, shadows crawling across the walls. Perfume lingered in the air — sweet, subtle, nothing like Jenny's harsh leather scent.
And in the center stood Lacey.
She was dressed in black: leather shorts hugging her thick thighs, a strapless top squeezing her full chest, her stomach bare and glowing in the candlelight. Her hair cascaded down one shoulder, her lips glossy under the firelight.
For a moment, Tim froze. His chest locked, breath caught. The silhouette was too familiar. Jenny's swagger, Jenny's smirk. His rage and desire collided, tearing through him like knives.
"Lacey," he said hoarsely, fists tightening. "What the hell are you doing?"
She stepped closer, hips swaying deliberately, eyes soft but bold. "I'm not Jenny. I'll never be her. But if seeing me like this helps you… if it gives you release… then take it."
Tim's throat worked. His body screamed for her, but his mind rebelled. "This is wrong."
Her soft hand pressed against his chest. "What's wrong is watching you torture yourself. You're carrying too much. For Tammy. For us. For yourself. Let me carry some of it."
He shook his head, fighting the heat rising inside him. "You don't understand."
"I do." Her voice was gentle, but her eyes gleamed. "You're a man breaking under ghosts. Jenny left a wound in you. Let me be the cure."
Her chest brushed against him as she leaned in. Her scent was warm, her touch soft — nothing like Jenny's sharp cruelty.
Tim's breath quickened, his fists trembling. "Don't… don't do this."
Her lips grazed his jaw, her voice a whisper. "Then push me away."
But he didn't.
His hands hovered at her sides, ready to shove her back, but his body betrayed him. Lacey's curves pressed closer, her boobs pushing against his chest, her hips swaying until her thighs brushed his.
"See?" she whispered, her pouty lips curving. "You don't want me to stop."
Tim growled low, fighting the pull. "You're playing with fire."
Her tongue flicked against his ear, soft, teasing. "Then burn me."
The words snapped something inside him. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, his breath ragged.
Lacey smiled, victory glittering in her eyes. She kissed him, slow at first, lips soft and deliberate, not like Jenny's cruel bites but tender, coaxing. When he didn't pull away, she deepened it, pressing harder, her chest flattening against him.
Tim's rage crumbled. His desire roared.
He kissed her back, fierce, hungry.
Lacey moaned softly into his mouth, her hands sliding around his neck. She broke the kiss only to whisper against his lips, "You're not with Jenny. You're with me. Remember that."
He groaned, forehead pressing against hers. For a moment, Jenny's ghost clawed at him, but Lacey's warmth drowned it out.
From the shadows, Yuko and Amy exchanged satisfied looks. Their leader was breaking free, piece by piece.
Lacey pulled back just enough to smirk up at him, breathless. "Feel better?"
Tim's chest heaved. He stared at her, torn between shame and hunger.
But he didn't let go.
Not this time.