Claire's expression darkened, her eyes glinting dangerously, but she didn't move—yet.
Brad's voice grew more arrogant as he spoke, sensing victory. "You don't have a choice, Daniel. Let me stay, or you lose everything."
Brad stepped forward, his lips curling into a twisted smile, his eyes glinting with a sense of triumph. He thought he had them cornered. He thought he had won. And that's when Claire moved.
It happened so fast that Daniel barely registered it—a blur of motion as Claire launched herself at Brad, her eyes cold and unyielding. One second, Brad was gloating, basking in his perceived victory, and the next, Claire had him pinned to the wall. Her fingers wrapped around his throat with an iron grip, her body pressing into his with a force that knocked the air out of his lungs. The shock on Brad's face was immediate, his eyes widening in fear as he tried to comprehend what was happening.
Claire's face was eerily calm, her eyes locked onto his. There was no anger, no emotion—just a chilling focus. She squeezed, her hand tightening around his throat, her strength undeniable, inhuman.
"I never liked you, Brad," she said, her voice a low, dangerous murmur that cut through the tense air. Her eyes bore into his, unflinching, relentless. "Oh, I've wanted to crush you for a lonnnnnng time."
Brad's hands clawed at her arm, his face reddening as he gasped for breath, his mouth opening and closing in a desperate attempt to speak.
"What's the matter?" Claire laughed out loud, almost creepily. "Cat got your tongue?"
He struggled, his body thrashing against the wall, but Claire didn't let up. She pressed harder, her fingers digging into his skin, her strength overwhelming him.
Brad's eyes began to bulge, panic setting in as he realized he couldn't break free. His breaths came in ragged, choked gasps, his legs kicking out uselessly. Daniel stood there, his heart pounding in his chest, watching the scene unfold. He wanted to move, to step forward, to do something—but he was frozen, caught between the shock of Claire's raw, unbridled violence and the realization that Brad truly had no power here.
"No-one can help you here."
Brad's eyes locked onto Daniel's, wide with terror. He was breaking. The arrogance, the bravado—it was gone now, replaced by a raw, primal fear. His voice came out in a strangled whisper, barely audible. "H-Help. . ."
Claire paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. Her grip loosened just enough for him to speak, but her expression remained unchanged, her presence looming over him like a dark shadow.
"Hold on. Wait a minute. This doesn't make sense," Claire blinked. "You said that the supplies ran out and the kids died? But, the supplies Daniel gave you should have been more than enough to last your crew a whole week or two."
The gears inside her head turned, as a smile creepily curved on her lips. "Ah-ah. Looks like someone's not telling the truth~"
She gripped the vile human being's throat even harder, a grip less than what was needed from snapping his neck. "Talk."
Brad coughed, wheezing, his body sagging in her grip. He tried to catch his breath, his voice coming out weak and trembling. "I'll talk... I'll tell you... just let me breathe..."
Claire's lips twitched, her eyes cold. "Talk, then."
Brad's gaze darted between Claire and Daniel, his eyes pleading. He coughed again, his voice a shaky rasp. "It wasn't... the supplies. It was me. I... I killed them."
Claire only smiled. "A shocker."
Daniel's breath caught, his heart lurching in his chest. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "What?"
Brad swallowed, his face contorted in pain, his eyes desperate. "The others... the kids... they were slowing us down," he gasped, his voice trembling. "I needed... I needed the food to survive. They were weak. I took their supplies... I killed them."
The words hit Daniel like a physical blow, knocking the breath out of him. His vision blurred for a moment, rage and disbelief surging through him. The room seemed to spin, his thoughts crashing together in a chaotic storm. He felt something inside him snap, something raw and primal. The images of the children, their wide, pleading eyes, their innocence—Brad had taken that away. He had destroyed them for his own selfish survival.
"You... bastard," Daniel whispered, his voice shaking, barely able to contain the fury rising inside him. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. "You killed them? The kids?"
Brad whimpered, his head nodding frantically, his eyes wide with terror. "I had no choice," he sobbed. "They were slowing us down... I needed the food. I didn't want to die."
The rage that bubbled inside Daniel was overwhelming, boiling over like a storm ready to consume him. He had been so stupid, so arrogant. He thought he could handle everything, thought his knowledge of the apocalypse gave him an advantage. But once again, he had been played, and the consequences were paid in the innocent lives of children. His vision blurred with fury, his entire body trembling.
"You killed them... for what?" Daniel roared, stepping closer, his voice echoing through the basement, filled with raw, uncontrollable emotion. "They were just kids! Helpless... and you took their lives for a couple of cans?"
Brad's face twisted in terror, his sobs choking his voice. He looked up at Daniel, tears streaming down his face, his voice a weak, broken plea. "I had to... I had to..."
"Shut up," Claire's voice cut through the air, her eyes narrowing, her grip tightening around Brad's throat once more. There was no pity in her gaze, no hesitation. Her face was cold, her lips curling into a disdainful sneer. "You disgust me."
Brad's eyes widened, his body convulsing as Claire pressed him harder into the wall. He tried to speak, tried to beg, but his words were lost, his voice nothing but a choked whimper.
Claire's gaze flicked back to Daniel, her eyes catching his. There was a strange calm in her expression, an unflinching certainty that unnerved him, even through his rage. She seemed almost... satisfied.
And then, without a word, she let go of him as her foot came down, hard, crashing onto Brad's head with a force that made the floor beneath them tremble. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the basement, the sound wet and final. Blood splattered across the floor, painting it a deep, visceral red.
Claire straightened, her chest rising and falling, her eyes fixed on the mess beneath her. She breathed deeply, her expression softening, a strange satisfaction settling into her features. It was as if she had just finished a task—something necessary, something inevitable.