For the first time in weeks, Tim woke without a knife in his hand.
The fire in the hideout had burned low, casting soft light across the room. Lacey was curled against him, hair spilling across his chest, her breathing steady. He hadn't meant to give in — but he had. And now, instead of shame, there was something else.
Relief.
He sat up slowly, staring into the embers. For so long, he had carried everything — Tammy's death, Jenny's betrayal, the burden of keeping Tidam alive. He thought discipline alone would save them. That if he starved himself of desire, if he stayed hard and cold, he'd remain unbreakable.
But last night proved something he didn't want to admit.
He was still human.
And so were they.
The girls weren't soldiers. They weren't faceless followers. They were women living under the same curse, fighting through the same nights, bleeding through the same dawns. The stress, the blood, the fear — it wasn't something anyone could carry forever. Even he had cracked.
If survival was the law of Villian Ville, then relief — in any form — was the medicine. Without it, they would rot from the inside.
His jaw tightened. He couldn't let that happen.
He looked around the room. Yuko leaned against the far wall, eyes open, sharp as ever, watching him. Amy slept curled in a chair like a kitten, lips parted, blouse slipping off her shoulder. And Lacey still breathed softly against his chest, the faint smell of her perfume lingering like comfort.
They cared for him. In their own ways, they had pulled him back from the edge. And as leader, he owed them more than orders. He owed them a place to unload the weight this cursed village put on their shoulders.
When the silence stretched too long, Yuko finally broke it. "You've been thinking all night," she said. "What is it, leader?"
Tim's voice was rough, low. "We can't keep going like this. Fighting, killing, pretending we're fine. We're not. If we don't let it out somehow, it'll tear us apart."
Amy stirred, blinking awake, rubbing her eyes. She tilted her head. "Let it out? You mean… like last night with Lacey?"
Lacey's cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away. Her voice was soft, steady. "Tim… was that just a mistake? Or are you saying it meant something more?"
Tim drew a slow breath, choosing each word carefully. "It meant I was human again. For a moment, I wasn't just a knife. I wasn't just rage and ghosts. And if it gave me that… maybe it can give all of us the same. A break from the weight. A way to breathe again."
Yuko's eyes narrowed, testing him. "So you're saying… what? That you'll sleep with us whenever we're stressed?" Her smirk was sharp, but beneath it was caution.
Tim met her gaze head-on. "I'm saying survival isn't just about swinging knives. It's about holding each other up when the blood gets too heavy. If sex, or closeness, or whatever you want to call it… if it keeps us sane, then I'll open myself for that. As long as you're willing. As long as it helps."
Silence.
Amy's lips parted, eyes wide. "You'd… really do that? For us?"
Tim nodded. "Not as toys. Not as slaves. As my alliance. My responsibility. If this place crushes you, I'll carry that weight too."
Lacey sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. Her big eyes searched his face, doubtful and tender at once. "Tim… are you sure this isn't just lust talking?"
He shook his head. "If it was, I'd have taken you long before last night. I've resisted because I thought it was wrong. But maybe wrong doesn't exist here anymore. Maybe survival writes its own rules. What matters is that we stay whole. That we don't let this place break us."
Lacey bit her lip, her cheeks warming, but the doubt in her eyes softened.
Yuko crossed her arms, still testing. "So you're saying you'll be more than just our blade. You'll be our… release valve?"
Tim gave a short nod. "Exactly. Blood and lust both weigh heavy. If sharing that burden keeps us alive, then I'll take it on."
Amy crawled closer, curling against his side, her boobs pressing deliberately into his arm. "Then I'm in," she said brightly, her kitten face glowing. "If you're really that serious… then I'll trust you, Master."
Lacey looked at Amy, then at Tim. Slowly, she leaned against his other side, her voice quiet. "If this keeps you steady, and keeps us safe, then I'll trust you too."
Only Yuko remained, arms folded. She studied him long, her sharp eyes cutting through the firelight. Finally, she smirked faintly. "You're serious. That's new. Fine. If this is what it takes to keep Tidam alive, then I won't stand in the way."
Tim exhaled, his chest lighter. He spread his arms, voice steady.
"Then come. My arms are open — for all of you. Not as toys, not as slaves, but as my alliance. My responsibility."
Lacey slid in first, her curves pressing against him. Amy curled on his lap, giggling softly. Even Yuko allowed herself a rare smile, settling on his other side.
Tim held them all, their warmth pressing into him. For a moment, there were no knives, no blood, no Jenny. Just his alliance, their trust, and the fragile freedom of release.
Tidam Alliance wasn't just built on blades anymore. It was built on trust, pressure shared, and the will to survive together.