Zeki, huddled under her thick blankets, stared at the photo. Her eyes blazed with envy. She had known Miles's life would be comfortable, surrounded by food and supplies, but she hadn't anticipated such opulence. He wasn't just surviving; he was thriving. And now, all she could feel was an overwhelming regret.
She should have kept up the act, kept him happy. No matter how irritating he was, she should have humored him. Had she done so, perhaps that paradise-like home would now be hers.
Swallowing her pride, she braved the power-drain and opened a video call.
The screen rang and rang, until, finally, Miles picked up with an amused smile. "Now this is what I call adaptability."
At first, all he saw was a dark shadow; then, the camera adjusted to show Zeki, shivering in a thin lace slip, pale and shaking. She forced a smile despite her trembling lips. "Miles, I was wrong. Please, forgive me. I wore this just for you. If you'll have me, I'll come to you."
The temptation was undeniable. Miles felt a surge of interest. Her graceful figure, the way she gazed at him, her skin so delicate against the dark—all of it was designed to stir him. But within a heartbeat, he forced himself to turn away, his rationality quickly quelling the impulse.
"Are you cold?" he asked with a touch of indifference.
Zeki, barely able to feel her hands, collapsed into her blanket, teeth chattering. After a long moment, she whispered, "Miles, I'm freezing. Please…come warm me, hold me."
Her voice was low, frail, and tinged with a mesmerizing allure that crept into his very bones.
"I'd love to," Miles replied with mock regret, "but I hate the cold."
Desperation lit her eyes. "Then I'll come to you."
He hesitated for a second. "Alright...but there are people watching my house. They'd never let you in. Even if you made it, I couldn't let you in."
"I'll be careful," she promised, her voice shaking. "No one will notice."
"Well then, if you're so determined, come along. Just know that if you freeze to death, that's on you."
Bolstered by his approval, she moved as though in a trance, dressing herself in layers and, on a whim, tucking some particularly alluring outfits into her bag. But just as she reached the door, she paused, then turned back, fetching a whip and a few suggestive items from her drawer.
If she was going to take on the role of sacrificial lamb, she'd do it with style.
Down she went, braving the storm with a fierce determination, the brutal wind gnawing at her as she trudged through the snow. For three hours, she fought through the freezing, biting cold, until, at last, she reached the doorstep of house 104.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The faint sound didn't reach Miles, who was lost in a song. But Ryan, dozing in the storage room, heard it and promptly called Miles.
"What is it, Ryan? Out of food already?"
"Miles, there's a woman at the door. She's nearly frozen to death."
Miles looked out the window in shock, taking in Zeki's snow-covered form. Even he had to give her credit—persevering through such extreme conditions took serious determination.
"Leave her there."
"Pardon?" Ryan stammered, glancing at the pitiful figure on the doorstep. "Are you sure? Maybe we should let her in to warm up. Seems a waste for her to freeze."
"A waste?" Miles chuckled, sensing Ryan's reluctance. "Ryan, if you're interested, say so. Want to have some fun?"
"No...no," Ryan stuttered, a bit embarrassed. He knew his place. Without Miles's generosity, he'd have perished in the cold long ago. In this house, Miles's word was law, and Ryan wouldn't act without permission.
"C'mon, just say it," Miles teased. "But I have to warn you, this woman's craftier than she looks. You might not be able to handle her, and if she gets into your head, that could spell trouble for me."
The warning wasn't lost on Ryan. Though honest to a fault, he wasn't naive. "I would never! If not for you, I'd already be dead. You have my loyalty, Miles, no matter what."
Though the pledge was spoken with sincerity, Miles remained cautious. He knew that in times like these, loyalty was too easily broken.
"Are you sure?" Miles asked, half-joking. "The world's gone lawless, Ryan. If you wanted to take advantage of her or worse, no one would stop you. But if you're interested, speak up. Otherwise, she might freeze solid."
Caught between his instincts and the pitiful sight, Ryan murmured, "Maybe we could let her warm up in here? She can stay in the storage room, so you don't need to worry about her entering the main house."
Miles smiled at the suggestion, though he said nothing.
Ryan added quickly, "I swear, if she tries anything, I'll take care of it."
"Alright," Miles relented. "Let her in, but remember: she's just a passing amusement. Don't get attached. In times like these, feelings are fatal."
"Yes, of course."
"Oh, and one more thing…" Miles's voice took on a wicked edge. "You'll find that, in times like these, the right offering can draw a whole crowd of beautiful women. Toss out a little meat, and you'll have dozens, maybe hundreds, rushing over. Play smart, and you'll have your pick."
From the other end of the line, Ryan's breathing grew faster, as if Miles's words had thrown open a door he hadn't realized existed.