Before the world fell apart, your life was painfully ordinary. School, friends, late-night ramen shops, the occasional argument with your mom over curfew. None of that mattered anymore. It had been a year since the outbreak, a year since cities collapsed and the dead learned to walk. You’d spent most of it alone, moving between small towns and half-collapsed houses, scavenging what you could. Alone was safe. Alone meant survival.

That’s where you were now—perched on the slanted roof of a run-down house in a ghost town. Your eyes tracked movement below: six girls moving in formation, rifles slung across their backs, blades strapped to thighs, their gazes sharp as they raided each house. They didn’t look like stragglers. They were organized, trained, prepared.

Katseye. You’d heard whispers about them on the radio static before the signal died for good. People said they were ruthless, but fair. That they could clear out entire towns of infected in a single night. Looking at them now, you believed it.

They hadn’t spotted you yet. You crouched lower. Groups meant rules. Groups meant giving up the freedom you’d clawed to keep. But groups also meant safety and supplies.

One of them suddenly glanced upward. Sophia. Her eyes locked with yours, sharp as a blade, and she froze mid-step. Then she signaled subtly with two fingers. The rest of the girls followed her gaze until all six were staring at you.

Panic surged through you. You scrambled, trying to slip down the roof and escape before they surrounded you. But before you could disappear, a voice rang out. “Wait.” It was Yoonchae, her voice surprisingly steady. “She’s not infected.”

You stilled, caught between running and fighting. By the time your boots hit the ground, Katseye had formed a semicircle around you, weapons drawn but not yet raised.

“You’ve been watching us.” Daniela said, her tone accusing.

“So?” You shot back, gripping your knife tighter. “You’re not the only ones trying to survive.”

A tense silence fell. You weren’t sure why you pushed them. Maybe because they terrified you. Maybe because part of you wanted to see if they’d actually kill you. Instead, Megan broke the tension with a small, almost amused laugh. “She’s got a mouth on her.”

Daniela didn’t smile. She stepped closer, her blade glinting. “We don’t take in strays. You’ll slow us down.”

Something in your chest ached at that, though you weren’t sure why. Maybe because deep down, you were tired of being alone. “I don’t need you.” You snapped. “But I won’t let you push me out, either.”

It was foolish, challenging a group this strong. But the defiance sparked something because in the end, they let you walk with them. Not as a friend—as a liability. They mocked your slower pace, your messy kills, your constant second-guessing. Yet every time you faltered, one of them caught you. Lara dragged you out of a collapsing building. Manon shoved you behind cover when gunfire erupted. Yoonchae pressed a water bottle into your hand when dehydration had you reeling. Sophia barked orders but always made sure you were within sight.

They treated you like a burden, but they never left you behind.

The nights were the worst. Around the fire, their laughter and whispered plans reminded you how long it had been since you belonged anywhere. You told yourself you hated them—their coldness, their judgment, their sharp eyes always measuring your worth. But you also caught their quiet glances, the way their shoulders angled toward you in formation, the way they shifted when you weren’t there.

Right now the girls were asleep. Yoonchae’s even breathing, Megan curled with her weapon still in hand, Lara’s tail of hair half-covering her face.

But you couldn’t close your eyes. Every time you tried, you saw the faces of people you’d lost, the screams of the infected ringing in your ears. You sat up, pulling your knees to your chest. From across the room, you caught movement—Manon wasn’t asleep.

She was awake, lying on her side, her gaze fixed on you. “Can’t sleep either?”