No...not yet, at least.

"All right," Grant says to the girl. "I won't claim you. Yet." He strides away from her and sits down heavily on her bed. "But in exchange, you're going to do exactly what I say, all right? If you don't, I'll let Mary and the girls go to town on you."

"Yeah, y-yeah. Whatever you say..." the girl breathes. Grant nods at Mel and Olivia and, with visible ****, they let go of her. The girl rolls her shoulder, wincing, as Grant watches her.

"So. What's your name, again?" he asks. "No, don't get up."

The girl bites her lip, then settles onto her heels. "I'm Abby. This...is it really happening? The text message...was telling the truth?"

"Yeah, it seems like it," Grant says with a shrug.

Abby stares at him. "Prove it," she says, shaking her head. "I don't...prove it."

Grant sighs. "I...sure. What would...I don't want anyone to slap themselves again." He sighs and glances around. "Mel, will you, uh...give me your shirt?"

"Of course!" Without any hesitation, the girl reaches down, pulls her t-shirt over her head, and holds it out in his direction. Abby's eyes bulge, and Grant sighs, though he can't help but smile at the sight of Mel's small but firm-looking breasts in their bra. Something to look forward to...no! I need to focus. He shakes his head, trying to focus in and also a bit ashamed for his wandering thoughts.

"Thanks," he says. "You can put it back on now, if you want."

"Do you...do you like it better off?" Mel smiles shyly at him, and he shakes his head.

"I...you're lovely, but I think you should keep it on for now."

"Oh, ok." She looks a little disappointed, but she complies. Abby looks back and forth between her sister and Grant, thunderstruck.

"Fuck," she whispers. "That's...this is really real, isn't it?"

"Seems so," Grant says wearily.

"We were...we were supposed to stay here with the door closed," Abby says, slightly bitterly. "We all got that weird text, and our mom messaged us to say people were being pretty weird and to stay here...I figured she was just being overprotective." She shakes her head. "Ugh, Mel...why'd you let them in?"

"Olivia and Mary tricked me," Mel admits, looking slightly embarrassed. "I thought they were in trouble...but Grant had already claimed them. It's for the best, though! You really should let him claim you, Abby! It's a great feeling, it's like...I've got a reason for living, now!"

Abby's face contorts in disgust. "And what, you didn't before?"

"Well..." Mel looks thoughtful. "I guess there was stuff I wanted. Like getting my degree and stuff. But nothing that gave me true purpose. That's new." She looks adoringly at Grant.

"So, what...what now?" Abby asks, clearly unnerved. "Why are you here? Are you just...collecting girls as sex slaves, or what?"

Grant flushes, but Mary speaks up before he can respond. "Grant deserves any girl he wants, but that's not what he's actually interested in," she says bluntly. "He's got a bigger vision...he's going to build something in the ruins of this world. It's all going to fall apart, girl, and the people who move fastest are going to have a chance to make a huge difference. Hopefully Grant's one of them." She sits on the bed next to him and strokes his shoulder, smiling. "This is where it all starts. It'll be our base of operations."

"Wait." Abby frowns. "You're...you're taking our home?"

"That's right," Mary says, leaning forward. "So if you don't want to be claimed and turned into a penitent little fucktoy...why don't you give us a tour?"

Abby swallows, eyes wide with fear, though Grant notices her nipples, hard and pointed, poking through her t-shirt. Interesting. "All right," she says at last. "Just don't...don't claim me."

Abby stands, with Mel and Olivia flanking her closely, and leads the small group of invaders through the penthouse apartment. Compared to Grant's flat four floors below, it's massive and luxurious: a comfy den, four bedrooms, an office, a balcony with stairs up to a roof deck that even includes a small private pool, a spacious kitchen and dining room. Mary gasps in delight when Abby, gaze lowered, walks them into the walk-in pantry and attached walk-in fridge/freezer.

"Really?" Grant asks, amused. "I didn't think you were, like, domestic."

"I'm not," Mary says with a grin. "But look at this place. They're packed to the gills! We've got more food on hand than most people, I bet." She punches him in the arm. "Nice acquisition, boss."

"Our mom's bringing even more groceries," Mel says. "And she should be here soon...she's driving, and it looks like she's almost home." She holds up her phone, open to the Find My screen.

"Good looking out," Mary says. "We should make sure we're ready for her...what's her name, again?"

"Amanda. There's one problem, though," Mel says, frowning.

"What's that?" Grant asks.

"Well, she says things have gotten pretty wild out there...and that she's 'got a poor girl with her' who was in some kind of trouble..."

"Damn," Olivia mutters. "I don't know that we can take on two resisting people at once..."

Grant winces at the tactical way the woman - still clad in a bikini - is thinking. "Maybe...we can negotiate somehow?"

"We should set up a reception for Amanda," Mary says decisively. "Something that projects strength and dominance...makes it clear that she has to cooperate." She smiles suddenly. "I have an idea...come on, we'll set it up." She beckons the group toward the den, and everyone follows: Grant, perplexed but obedient, Abby, eyes on the floor, and Olivia and Mel flanking her to make sure she doesn't run.