Night had fully settled over the ruins when Mira finally signaled a halt.
An abandoned underground access point lay ahead, half-hidden beneath collapsed concrete and rusted signage. It was not ideal—but it was defensible. In this world, that was enough.
"We'll rest here," Mira said, her tone decisive. "Two hours. No more."
Thomas exhaled slowly as they descended into the shelter. His body ached—not just from exertion, but from the sustained tension that had wrapped around him since leaving the warehouse. Every step had been watched. Every pause had been claimed.
The confined space amplified everything.
Rea moved first, sitting close—too close. Her knee brushed his thigh deliberately as she leaned back against the wall, eyes never leaving him. She didn't speak. She didn't need to. Her presence was territorial, silent, and unmistakably possessive.
Elisa followed, choosing her position with calculated precision. Opposite Thomas. Close enough that he could feel her gaze even when he looked away.
"You handled yourself well today," she said calmly, crossing her legs. "Not everyone adapts so quickly."
Her voice carried a quiet authority—different from Mira's command, sharper than Rea's obsession. It was the tone of someone evaluating something she intended to keep.
Mira stood watch near the entrance, rifle steady, posture unyielding. Yet even she was aware of the tension coiling behind her. Thomas could feel it in the way her jaw tightened when Rea leaned closer. In the way her eyes flicked briefly toward Elisa's slow, deliberate movements.
Rea finally spoke, her voice soft, intimate.
"You don't have to stay tense," she said. "You're safe. We won't let anything happen to you."
Her hand rested against his arm—not gripping, not pleading. Claiming.
Thomas swallowed. He nodded, but the truth was sharper than fear.
He wasn't tense because of danger.
He was tense because every woman in this room wanted something from him—and none of them intended to lose.
Elisa leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees. "Careful, Rea. You'll suffocate him."
Rea smiled without humor. "I'll protect what's mine."
The air shifted.
Mira turned slowly, her gaze cutting through them both. "Enough. This isn't the time."
Her authority settled the room—but it didn't erase the undercurrent. It compressed it. Stored it.
Thomas sat there, silent, acutely aware of his position. Of how easily attention turned into pressure. Of how survival in this world wasn't just about staying alive—it was about navigating desire, control, and unspoken rivalry.
When Mira finally ordered them to rest, no one truly slept.
Rea stayed close. Elisa kept watch on Thomas instead of the door. And Mira remained standing, guarding more than just the shelter.
As the hours passed in silence, Thomas understood something with unsettling clarity:
This harem was no longer forming.
It had already formed.
And the real conflict had only just begun.