gan’s eyes filled with fresh tears. She looked around—saw everyone watching—then dropped the blanket with shaking hands.
Her torn cop shirt hung open—black lace bra fully exposed, tits spilling over the cups, nipples stiff against the thin material from the cold and lingering sha. The crotch of her pants was ripped wide—black panties visible, damp and clinging to her swollen pussy lips.
She quickly crossed her arms over her chest—trying to hide—but it was useless. Everyone had already seen.
She bit her lip—tears spilling—then stamred, voice breaking:
"Can... you turn around...? Please... I feel so... exposed... I know it’s my fault, but... I can’t... I just can’t..."
Nicole couldn’t take it anymore.
She stord over—small but furious—stood on her tiptoes, and slapped both hands over my eyes.
"Turn around, you pervert!" she yelled, voice cracking with righteous anger. "You have a wife... and even my mom is your... girlfriend... are you still not satisfied, leecher...?"
I didn’t resist—let her spin around, hands warm and trembling over my eyes.
Behind ca the soft rustle of fabric—clothes dropping to the stone—quick, panicked breaths—gan pulling on the new jeans, the shirt, the jacket. The blanket stayed on the ground.
A few seconds later, Nicole lowered her hands—still glaring up at .
I turned back around slowly.
gan stood there—dressed now—jeans a little loose, shirt baggy, jacket zipped halfway up. She looked almost normal again—except for the red eyes, the tear tracks, the way her hands still shook.
She looked at Angela, Nicole, Mira, and Lisa—voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.
"I’m sorry..." she said, tears falling freely now. "I’m so sorry... for everything. I was supposed to protect people... instead, I pointed a gun at you. I let Drake threaten your family. I... I failed. As a cop. As a person. I just wanted to help... but I went too far. I know I don’t deserve your kindness... but thank you. For the clothes. I promise... I will never speak of this place to anyone."
She wiped her eyes—voice cracking.
I looked at her—then at Camilla—then at Drake’s unconscious form.
"Take that bastard out," I said. "And you do whatever you want with him. Throw him away or take him with you. He’s your problem now."
Camilla jerked forward—"Master, that—"
I slapped her fat ass—hard—SMACK—the sound echoing off the cave walls.
Camilla yelped—jumping, tits bouncing under her half-fixed dress—then quieted instantly, eyes dropping submissively.
"Don’t forget your promise," I said coldly. "I promised to save your husband’s life. I didn’t promise to take care of him. So think carefully before you say another word."
Camilla bowed her head—silent, trembling.
Lisa stepped forward—expression hard but oddly calm. She walked to gan, reached into her waistband, and pulled out the gun I’d taken from her earlier.
Without a word, she tucked it back into the waistband of gan’s new jeans—surprising everyone, especially gan.
Lisa t her eyes—voice flat but not unkind.
"I don’t like to keep other people’s dirty stuff," she said.
gan stared at the gun—then at Lisa—tears welling again.
"Thank you..." she whispered, voice thick with gratitude and sha. "I... I really don’t deserve this. After everything I did... you still..."
She couldn’t finish—sobs catching in her throat.
gan turned, bent down, and awkwardly hoisted Drake’s limp body over her shoulder. She staggered a little under the load, blanket long forgotten.
She looked back once—eyes eting mine—then Mira’s—then Nicole’s—then walked out into the darkening night.
The cave mouth swallowed her silhouette.
Silence fell again.
Camilla stood frozen—watching her husband disappear—tears still falling.
Nicole looked at —anger gone now, replaced by sothing quieter, more confused.
Mira squeezed my arm—grateful.
Angela smirked—already reaching for another slice of cold pizza.
Lisa just watched the entrance—gunless now—her expression unreadable, arms crossed tight over her chest like she was holding herself together after handing over the weapon she’d been itching to use.
Angela sauntered over then, hips swaying with that lazy, predatory grace she always had after a long day of chaos.
She pressed her body flush against my side—soft, warm tits squashing deliberately against my arm, stiff nipples dragging across my sleeve like little points of fire. Her hand slid up my chest, fingers tracing slow circles over my heart while she purred right into my ear.
"Husband..." she murmured, voice thick with mock concern and real mischief, rubbing her heavy breasts even harder against so I could feel every jiggle.
"Are you worried about Officer gan? Look how dark it is outside... night’s falling fast. What if she gets lost in those woods? What if so animal slls the blood on her clothes... or the fear between her legs... and decides she’s easy prey? Why don’t you escort her back... make sure she arrives in one piece...?"
I glanced toward the cave mouth—where the last sliver of purple sky was quickly being swallowed by black. gan had only been gone a few minutes, but the path back to the survivor camp was rough: rocky, uneven, full of shadows and things that hunted when the light died.
I exhaled through my nose—half amusent, half calculation.
"I was thinking of going back anyway," I said, voice low. "It won’t be long before she gets into trouble."
Nicole looked up sharply from where she sat beside Mira—still wrapped in her blanket, cheeks flushed from food and the lingering shock of the day.
"What do you an?" she asked, voice small but edged with suspicion.
I reached over and flicked her forehead lightly with my finger—playful but firm.
"Ouch!" she yelped, rubbing the spot with a pout, glaring up at .
I chuckled—low and dark—leaning down so my face was closer to hers.
"What do you think will happen when gan returns to those survivors wearing brand-new clothes—clean jeans, fresh shirt, jacket—while everyone else is still in rags?" I asked, voice calm but cutting.
"They’ll be jealous. Suspicious. Hungry. They’ll look at her and think: ’She compromised herself. She beca his slave. She’s not willing to share the spoils with us.’ So of them will beg her for scraps. Others... will try to take them. And a few—the desperate ones—might decide she’s the reason they’re still starving. They’ll turn on her. Fast."
Nicole’s eyes widened—anger flickering back to life, but now mixed with sothing colder: understanding.
"That’s... that’s awful," she whispered. "They’re supposed to be her people..."
"People turn on each other when they’re starving," Mira said softly, arm tightening around her daughter. "Dexter’s right. gan’s walking into a trap she helped build."
Angela’s hand slid lower—fingers tracing the waistband of my pants while she pressed her tits harder against my arm.
"So you’re going to rescue the damsel in distress?" she teased, lips brushing my jaw.
"My big, strong husband... playing hero again. Just make sure you co back to after. I want to ride you while you tell how you saved her... how she cried and thanked you... how she begged not to be left alone in the dark..."
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