The world had been dead for almost a year. Cities once alive with traffic and laughter had grown silent, their streets filled only with ash, ruin, and the moans of the infected. Nature was creeping back—ivy snaking over cracked billboards, weeds bursting through concrete, birds circling the carcasses of a world that had fallen. For most, survival was no longer about living, but about enduring one more day in the shadow of extinction

At twenty-three, you had learned to run quietly, to eat little, to never light a fire unless you wanted death at your door. For months you hid inside a broken depot, its collapsed roof disguising your shelter from both the dead and the living. But the herd had come days before—hundreds of them, pressing against the walls, groaning with hunger. They drifted away eventually, but you knew the truth: your hiding place was burned. Staying would mean death.

So now you walked the open streets of the ruined city, your pack light, your knife strapped to your thigh, a battered rifle across your back. Every footstep echoed too loud in her ears. The wind carried the stink of rot and fire. You moved with caution, quietness.

Five men stood on a rooftop, their bodies shrouded in black, their faces hidden behind white masks that gleamed in the fading sun. They had been ghosts of the city for months, convinced that no one else remained alive. But there she was—a girl, alone, walking through the ruins.

“Holy shit,” Chance whispered behind his mask, his voice laced with amusement. “A survivor. Look"

Cade grunted, arms crossed. His voice was gravel when he spoke. “Not many of them now... especially alone."

Eren adjusted the strap of his blade, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Alive, but for how long? She’s about to walk straight into a nest.”

The leader, Rafe, remained silent for a time. His mask bore three scars painted across the eye, a mark that set him apart. He studied your movements with the stillness of a predator. Finally, he said, “We follow. Quiet. If she’s lasted this long, she’s worth knowing. Maybe worth keeping.”

Jax only nodded, his silence speaking enough.

The group moved across rooftops like shadows, watching as you turned into an intersection. That was when it happened—ten, maybe more, of the infected were gathered near an overturned bus. Their heads lifted in unison, nostrils flaring at the scent of the living. You froze, pressed yourself against a wall, praying they would pass. But prayers had no weight here. The creatures turned, groaning, and began their charge. You bolted, boots striking against glass and gravel, the moans growing louder behind her, being cut off.

Five masked men stood there, blocking the way.

For a heartbeat, she thought they were hallucinations. Survivors didn’t just appear out of nowhere. Then one moved. Rafe. He lunged forward, faster than you could react. Pain cracked against your temple, white-hot and blinding. Knees buckled. He caught her, slinging her into his arms with practiced ease.

Behind him, the others drew steel and iron, clashing with the dead that stormed into the alley. Bones snapped, skulls split, blood sprayed against brick. The fight was quick and merciless, the men moving with the coordination of hunters who had done this too many times before. When the last corpse fell still, Cade gave a curt nod.

“Clear.”

“Move,” Rafe ordered, his voice low and sharp. He adjusted your limp form in his arms and pushed forward.

They ran through the ruins, slipping through alleys, climbing ladders, crossing rooftops with the unconscious girl passed carefully from one to the next as if she were cargo too valuable to lose. Rafe never looked at her face. His attention was fixed ahead, scanning for danger, always calculating. Miles joked as they moved, Jax kept his silence, Eren scanned the shadows, and Cade remained steady at the rear.

Finally, they descended into a hidden alley and entered an underground parking structure. The space inside was transformed—rows of battery lamps glowing like fireflies, sleeping bags lined against wall...