I woke up to the soft sound of claws tapping against the floor—Elly. She was perched by the window, her sharp eyes scanning the streets below like some sort of silent predator. She hadn’t slept much since she arrived, always alert, always on edge. I don’t blame her. Whatever’s hunting me isn’t done yet.

  “Hey, Daniel,” she purred, glancing back at me as I sat up in bed, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Her voice was almost playful, but there was that edge again, the same one that always lurked beneath her calm demeanor. “Still haven’t run off, huh?”

  “Where would I go?” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “Everything’s a mess right now.”

  She stood, stretching with fluid grace. Her outfit—dark, fitted—only emphasized the way she moved, catlike and dangerous.

  "You have no idea how refreshing it is to not have to keep up a glamour, to hide my ears, my claws…”

  “Like wearing a pair of underwear for a second day, eh?” I murmured, still half asleep but awake enough to regret having said it out loud.

  “I’d have said more like stretching your legs after sitting on an airplane too long, but… comfortable. Yes.” Elly grinned. “I can be myself around you, more than I ever could before. That level of comfort is not something I remember having in a long, long time. You might not realize it, but you’re a lot more important to me than you think, Daniel."

  I blinked. You think I’m important? It sounded almost absurd, considering the chaos that’s been my life the past few days.

  Elly smirked and sat down next to me on the bed, not too close, but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her.

  "You’re different, Daniel. You’re the only one who can’t be charmed, manipulated, or influenced… directly. It’s... fascinating."

  "Yeah, well, it’s not exactly a superpower to be strangely powerless." I shrugged, though part of me found it hard to ignore the way she was looking at me.

  She leaned in a little, just enough to make my pulse pick up. Her star-shaped pupils narrowed within her sparkling eyes as she locked onto mine with a predator’s focus.

  "We’re not always looking for something super… but you see it as more of a curse for you, though? I can see it in your eyes. You're drawn to us, but you can’t have us the way you want to. Because you know we’re different. We’re not just women. We’re more."

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. My throat tightened as she leaned even closer, her lips almost brushing my ear as she whispered, "And you know you’re more too, right?"

  Before I could say anything, she paused—and then shifted the subject slightly, but not without a glint of something sharper.

  "So," she said, slowly easing back. "You slept next to each of us, huh? Got a little dream harem rotation going. Tell me, who’s the worst to sleep next to?"

  “What?”

  “I mean,” she said with a tilt of her head, playful now, but clearly fishing, “did Lily snore? Did Eury hog the covers? C’mon, just give me a little hint. For science.”

  I laughed under my breath, more to deflect than anything. “Eury doesn’t snore. She barely moves. Slept like a statue. Weirdly peaceful.”

  Too peaceful, I remembered. Like she was afraid of waking me. Or waking herself. There was something solemn about her, even in sleep.

  “And Lily?” Elly prompted, narrowing her eyes like she could read my thoughts if I didn’t speak fast enough.

  “She… uh. She kicks,” I said, chuckling a bit. “Turns sideways halfway through the night. I woke up with a foot to the ribs.”

  Elly smirked, but I saw the flicker of something in her expression. Jealousy, maybe. Or possession.

  “And me?” she asked, tilting her head again, her claws tapping softly against her thigh now. “How’d I rate?”

  I hesitated, caught in a mental loop of don’t say too much, don’t say too little.

  “You didn’t sleep,” I said finally. “You watched. Protected.”

  Elly raised a brow. “That’s not an answer. That’s a technicality.”

  I sighed. “You were the one I woke up next to.”

  She blinked, once, slowly.

  "And…?" she asked, voice quieter.

  “You were still there,” I said, surprised by how honest that felt. “That meant something.”

  A long moment passed, her stare unreadable. Then she grinned, sly and dangerous. “Good answer. But just so you know… I do sleep. Eventually. And I don’t kick.”

  She stood, sauntering toward the door with the same easy menace she always carried, lips twitching in amusement. Just before she left, she threw a glance over her shoulder.

  “But if I did,” she said, “you’d probably deserve it.”

  And then she was gone.

  I let the silence settle, but it didn’t last long. Something caught my attention—a shadow. At first, I thought it was just a trick of the light, but then I saw it again—a shape moving just outside the window. I froze, my heartbeat accelerating as I slowly got to my feet.

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  I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was watching me.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  Later that afternoon, Euryale caught me in the kitchen. I was attempting to make lunch—or at least, heat something up in the microwave. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook, but she insisted on watching me. I could feel her eyes following my every move, assessing me in that way she had. Euryale wasn’t just beautiful, she was intelligent. And lethal. She seemed to know exactly how to break me down with a single look.

  "Pushing buttons… and none of them the right ones,” she sighed, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe. “Don’t you know how to cook, Dan?" Her voice was teasing, but laced with that dry, clinical bite she always used when she was testing something.

  When did her nipples start poking out of her shirt? Why did they look like buttons? Why was I even thinking that while she was talking?

  “I can manage,” I muttered, shoving the frozen meal into the microwave and desperately trying to pay attention to the buttons, not her chest. “Certainly not underfed over here.”

  She tilted her head. “Not underfed but definitely undertrained.”

  I risked a glance at her—form-fitting outfit, hair pristine like it had never seen a bad day. Her waist looked like it could fit inside my sleeve. “You’re a lot to compete with,” I admitted, only realizing too late how that sounded.

  Euryale raised a brow, amused. “Compete?” She walked closer, slowly, deliberately. “You think we’re competing?”

  I swallowed. “Aren’t you?”

  Her lips curled into a cool smile. “Let me guess—Elly gave you one of her little speeches already. Talked about being herself around you? How special that is?”

  I froze.

  She laughed softly. “Thought so. And let me guess—Lily hasn’t had her turn yet, has she?”

  “Is this… a turn?” I asked, blinking.

  She circled me once, slowly, like a teacher checking a student's form. “More like a progress report. We need to know where you’re at. Emotionally. Physically. Psychologically.” She stopped in front of me and looked me dead in the eyes. “And romantically.”

  That last word hung in the air like a dare.

  “I didn’t think that was part of the criteria.”

  “Oh, Dan.” She exhaled, like she pitied me. “Everything is part of the criteria.”

  She turned toward the counter and picked up a knife—not threateningly, just casually, like it was a natural extension of her hand. She twirled it with the ease of someone who knew how to make it sing. “You’re worth more than you realize. Not just to the people hunting you. Not just to us. But to… this world. To our world. You’re not normal. You never were.”

  “Eury—”

  “I’m not here to flirt with you,” she cut in, voice suddenly razor sharp. “I’m not Elly. I’m not Lily. I’m not trying to win your heart with clever lines or soft eyes. I’m here to see if you’ll survive what’s coming.”

  She looked down at the knife, then up at me again.

  “But if you did have to choose…” she added, almost idly, like she wasn’t baiting me, “I wonder which of us would get your attention first. Not because I need to know. But because you do.”

  “I don’t know if I can choose.”

  “That,” she said coolly, “is a luxury you won’t always have.”

  She slid the knife onto the cutting board and turned toward the hall, her heels clicking softly on the floor.

  Before she left, she glanced back over her shoulder and added, “The way Lily cuddled up next to you last night—she looked so peaceful. Makes me wonder what you dreamt about… or if you did much dreaming with her scent so near.”

  And then she was gone—leaving me with a frozen tray of food, a quiet kitchen, and the unmistakable feeling that I’d just failed a test I didn’t even know I was taking.

  That evening, I found Lily sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV, acting as though she had no care in the world. Her red hair framed her face in wild, unruly curls, and she had a mischievous glint in her eyes that I was starting to recognize. She didn’t try to hide it like Euryale did. She wasn’t as subtle. Lily was raw and unapologetic, and I was beginning to realize she might actually be the most dangerous of them all.

  “Hey, Danny,” she purred, using the nickname she’d insisted on since day one. “Come sit with me for a bit.”

  I sighed, dragging my feet toward the couch. She patted the spot next to her, all warmth and invitation, and I hesitated. I was feeling gun shy after the working over the other two had already given me today. I fully expected this to end with me squealing in fear and trying to hide an inopportune erection.

  “You’re looking awfully comfy for someone who’s supposed to be guarding me,” I muttered.

  She gave me a slow, lazy look, one leg bent beneath her, the other stretched long across the cushions like she belonged in some renaissance oil painting. “What, you want us to be all serious and business-like? Clipboards? Headsets? Battle stances?” She rolled her eyes dramatically.

  “Please. We’re not robots, Danny. We’re not just here to protect you. We’re here to entertain you.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or terrifying,” I said, lowering myself next to her.

  She leaned in slightly, conspiratorially. “Why can’t it be both?”

  I laughed nervously. Her proximity was like sunlight and gravity and a thousand other forces I didn’t know how to deal with. “And you’re really okay with all this? The downtime?”

  “I thrive on downtime,” she said, stretching with theatrical flair, her shirt rising just enough to flash a sliver of toned stomach. “You learn so much more about a person when they’re unguarded. When they think they’re safe.”

  “That sounds mildly threatening,” I said.

  Her smile was wolfish. “Only mildly?”

  She slid a little closer. “Besides,” she added, voice like velvet and mischief, “I like the idea of us all hanging out, getting to know each other... maybe giving you a few lessons.”

  “Lessons?” I asked, instantly wary.

  “Mhm.” She traced a fingertip in lazy circles on the cushion between us. “Like how to keep your cool under pressure. How to speak less, think more. How to stop looking like you might explode every time a pretty girl touches your knee.”

  I blinked. “That’s oddly specific.”

  She placed a hand—light, casual, completely intentional—on my knee. “Isn’t it?”

  I stiffened. She noticed.

  “I’ve lived my entire life watching men fall apart around me,” she said, tilting her head, her voice softer now. “The sight, the smell of me—it drives them wild. You know what I find interesting about you?”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “You don’t fall apart. Not entirely. Not right away. You fight it. And that,” she whispered, her hand slowly sliding just a little higher, “makes you... fun.”

  “I’m a gentleman,” I said quickly, trying not to combust.

  “You’re trying to be,” she teased. “That’s cute.”

  Her hand paused on my thigh and just rested there, warm and impossibly present. “Don’t worry, Danny,” she said, voice dropping. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

  A beat.

  She grinned. “Unless you want us to. But that’s another lesson. Advanced level.”

  I snorted, unable to stop the embarrassed laugh, but there was something deeper under it—something charged. Dangerous. The way her eyes stayed locked on mine a second too long. The way her body didn’t tense like mine did—it unfurled, like a predator stretching before a meal.

  Then I felt it. A sudden, cold shiver creeping up my spine. My skin prickled. Something was wrong.

  I turned toward the window, slowly, heart pounding. And there it was—just for a moment—a shape. A shadow. Not just a trick of the light. A presence. It didn’t move like a bird or a tree swaying. It watched.

  Lily noticed the shift in my expression before I could speak. Her fingers tightened just slightly. “What is it?”

  “There’s something out there,” I said quietly. “It was watching us.”

  She sat up a bit, eyes following mine to the window. Her smile dimmed—not vanished, just cooled.

  “Hmm,” she said, thoughtful now.

  “Hmm?” I asked.

  “It could be a number of things.” She gave me a sly look. “Let’s just say... not everything that watches over you does it from inside the house.”

  And just like that, the playful fire returned to her eyes.

  “But don’t let it ruin our moment, Danny. Come back over here. You were about to beg me for mercy.”

  “I was not.”

  “You will.”