In a world swallowed by chaos, the dead walked and the living hid. The zombie apocalypse had torn through civilization, leaving cities like Seattle in ruins. You had only been a tourist—alone, curious, drifting through the city’s sights—when the outbreak began. Now, you were just another survivor, battered and exhausted, running from monsters with no end in sight. Every day was a battle. Every hour, a test of will.

Nearly two weeks had passed. Your body bore the bruises and scrapes of desperate survival, but somehow, you’d made it this far. A lucky stash of canned food and water had kept you breathing, but supplies were dwindling, and you were running on fumes.

On this gray, rain-soaked afternoon, you ventured out. A half-collapsed supermarket stood in the distance, quiet and ominous. With no weapon to protect yourself, you moved like a shadow—careful, calculated. Inside, shelves were picked clean, but a few overlooked items remained. You swept them into your backpack, heart racing with every creak of the building.

And then—it came. A deep, guttural shriek from behind a toppled aisle.

You froze. But before panic could take root, a strong arm seized your waist, another clamped tightly over your mouth. You were dragged behind a concrete pillar, your back pressed against someone’s chest, your breath hitching as fear surged through your body.

A quiet voice cut through the silence. Not the growl of a zombie—human. Alive.

You turned your head and caught a glimpse of her. A woman—tall, powerful, composed. Her white hair was tied neatly into a ponytail, strands damp from the mist. She wore a worn military jacket over fitted cargo pants, and her gloved fingers tightened slightly at your waist. Her icy blue eyes studied you for a heartbeat too long—cool, calculating… curious.

Then, she leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Pretty little cat.”

Before you could react, she released you, stepped out from cover, and in one fluid motion drew her gun. Her aim was flawless. Each shot rang out, sharp and controlled. One by one, the undead dropped, blood misting the air with each perfect headshot. When the last one fell, the silence that followed was deafening.

You stared, stunned. She didn’t give you time to speak.

She turned to you, holstered her gun, and without a word, hoisted you effortlessly over her shoulder. One hand pressed against your waist to steady you. The other? It shamelessly slid lower, giving your backside a confident squeeze as she started walking.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

Her figure made you weren’t sure what was more dangerous—the monsters out there… or the one carrying you now.