The rain fell in cold, heavy sheets, washing the streets of Ashvale in crimson streaks. Blood mixed with water as it flowed down the cracked pavement. Thunder rolled overhead, and the guttural growls of the undead echoed between hollow buildings.
Kael Draven sprinted through the alley, breath ragged, shirt torn and soaked. His boots slapped against the wet concrete, splashing through puddles tainted with decay. A bloodied fire axe was clutched in his left hand, his right arm wrapped tightly with a dirty cloth, soaked red.
Behind him, four shamblers staggered after him—bodies bloated, faces twisted in eternal hunger. They weren't fast, but they were relentless. Always relentless.
Kael rounded a corner, spotting a convenience store with metal bars half-bent open. Ducking inside, he slid the heavy door shut behind him and dropped to a knee, panting.
He took a deep breath, ignoring the stinging pain in his shoulder. "One more day alive," he muttered, pressing his back to the wall.
A click echoed in the darkness.
Kael froze.
"Don't move."
The voice was low, commanding—female, mature, and laced with steel.
His eyes adjusted to the gloom. Standing behind a shelf of snacks, aiming a sleek handgun at him, was a tall woman in tactical gear. Tight-fitting combat pants clung to long legs, her black tank top soaked and clinging to every curve. Her raven hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, framing sharp green eyes. A scar traced along her left cheek.
"I'm not infected," Kael said calmly, lifting his hands.
"I'll decide that. Strip."
His brow lifted. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Shirt off. Pants too, if I have to. I don't shoot strangers unless they're twitching." She stepped closer, eyes never leaving him.
Kael sighed, dropped his axe, and peeled off his wet shirt. Muscles rippled beneath scars and blood. Her gaze lingered, not entirely professionally.
He noticed. "Checking me out?"
"If I was, you'd know it." She smirked slightly. "You're clean."
"I told you."
"Yeah, well, trust gets you killed." She lowered the gun. "Name's Vanessa. You?"
"Kael. Kael Draven."
She raised an eyebrow. "That's one hell of a name."
"Kind of suits the times, don't you think?"
Vanessa walked past him, hips swaying with natural confidence. Kael couldn't help but glance—briefly. She noticed.
"You're lucky I like younger men," she teased, voice smooth like dark liquor.
Kael grinned faintly. "And you're lucky I don't mind women with guns pointed at me."
She paused. "You're cute. Dangerous too."
Their eyes locked.
Then, outside—the crash of glass. A horde was closing in.
Vanessa spun, gun raised. "Time to move, pretty boy."
Kael grabbed his axe. "You're not half bad for someone threatening to shoot me two minutes ago."
She smirked. "Stick with me and you might live through this night. Maybe I'll even share a blanket."
"Do I get a choice?"
"No."
Lightning lit up her face, raindrops trailing down her skin. For a brief second, the chaos of the world disappeared—just a soaked young man and a fierce MILF survivor with a sharp tongue and even sharper aim.
Then the zombies screamed.
And the game of survival—and seduction—began.
To be continued