In just a week, the snowstorm continued its relentless grip on the land.
The official power supply, once reliable for two hours each day, was reduced to a mere hour, often flickering in and out.
Strangely, the owners' group chat remained eerily silent. No one tagged Miles to demand food, nor did anyone complain about the unyielding, brutal weather.
As night fell, the wind and snow howled outside.
Ryan stealthily opened the storeroom door.
A blast of cold wind filled the room, but oddly enough, even this bone-chilling draft didn't stir the sleeping Zeki. She lay peacefully on the bed, a faint smile of contentment still on her lips.
Only after Ryan slipped out did Zeki slowly open her eyes and lift her phone to make a call.
"Tyler, Ryan's left the room. Hurry…"
A cold laugh came from the other end of the line. "You're a sly one. Don't worry—my men are ready. If Ryan dares to step out, he won't return."
"And Miles—make sure he doesn't get away!" Zeki's beautiful face twisted with malice, her eyes cold and fierce. "Tyler, that villa isn't an ordinary house. Miles has turned it into a fortress. Once you force him out, it's yours."
Tyler's laughter crackled through the receiver. "I knew it wasn't that simple. I've got my eyes on that house!"
"Don't forget our deal," Zeki added coolly.
"Don't worry, you little minx. I haven't yet tested your skills," Tyler sneered.
Zeki cast a hateful glance at the second-floor bedroom. "Having to endure that decrepit old man's touch... I'll see him dead before morning!"
The longer she thought on it, the more deeply her hatred brewed.
...
Under cover of darkness, Ryan, bundled in thick clothing, made his way to the wall behind the villa.
"Hello, Miles," he whispered, his breath visible in the frigid air. "I'm here, and as you predicted, they're lying in wait."
Miles turned on the TV, bringing up the security camera feed. A group of shadowy figures edged closer to the villa, while another cluster approached from the opposite direction.
"Ah, the beauty of two dogs fighting over a bone," Miles mused, reclining comfortably on the sofa, sipping a glass of wine. "Just find yourself a good hiding spot, Ryan. If they spot you, strike without mercy!"
"Understood!"
A former soldier, Ryan's eyes glinted with a fierce determination. In this new world, brute strength was the only law. If he wanted to survive, he knew it would be his fists—or his gun—that did the talking.
Tyler's group arrived first, creeping around the neighboring villa. Inside, the plump woman next door heard the commotion and stepped outside, only to have a gun barrel thrust in her face.
"If you want to live, get back inside!"
She retreated instantly, too terrified to resist.
Tyler holstered his gun, giving quick orders. "Find cover and wait. As soon as Ryan appears, we take him down."
His men, bulky and determined, scattered to conceal themselves.
"Tyler, someone's coming," a lookout whispered urgently.
"Get ready!"
In the darkness, they raised their weapons.
"Hold on, Tyler, it looks like there's more than one of them!"
Seven or eight figures, clutching machetes, were approaching from the shadows. At the front, though hard to make out, a voice that sounded like Andrew's was barking orders.
"We're here. This is it, Villa 105," Andrew said with a chuckle. "Clever of that coward Miles to stash the supplies here."
"It's behind the electrical box. Go grab it."
The group surged forward but froze, startled by the sight of figures looming in the dark.
"Boss, it's an ambush!" one of Andrew's men shouted.
"Damn it, Miles set us up!" someone hissed from the shadows.
"Damn it! That snake Miles lured us here to fight each other," Tyler muttered, grasping his own realization.
In the black of the night, the two groups glared at each other, tense and poised to strike. Suddenly, someone lunged, and the clash began. Within moments, a fight broke out, fists and blades flying.
Tyler's men, though more numerous, were ordinary residents. Andrew's gang, on the other hand, was full of seasoned brutes. Within minutes, Tyler's group began to fall, with even Tyler himself getting roughed up.
Bang!
A gunshot silenced the yard. Tyler raised his weapon and shouted, "Stop! Anyone moves, and I'll put a bullet in their head!"
"Tyler!" Andrew emerged from the shadows, gun aimed and ready. "You think you can scare me? You're not the only one packing heat."
Tyler hesitated, licking his lips nervously. "Andrew, calm down. It's obvious Miles set us both up."
Andrew sneered, "You think I'd be out here if it wasn't for you stealing the last batch of supplies?"
"That wasn't all for me! I split it with the rest of the neighborhood—people need food to survive!" Tyler tried, appealing to the crowd.
But Andrew wasn't swayed. "Cut the crap. I know you kept half for yourself. You tossed the scraps to those idiots and called it even."
The crowd stirred uneasily, now eying Tyler with suspicion. They had trusted him to distribute fairly, but Andrew's words stoked doubt.
Tyler's gaze flickered, and he snapped, "Don't try to turn them against me, Andrew. None of us knows how long this storm will last—I was just making sure it lasted!"
"Don't feed me that lie," Andrew scoffed. "Here's the deal: hand over the supplies, or leave your life here."
"Never!"
In a world now defined by scarcity, supplies meant survival. Tyler would sooner die than hand them over.
"Then you're a dead man!"
Bang!
Another gunshot, and an innocent bystander crumpled to the ground, his face frozen in a look of confusion.
Why me?
"Andrew! You're openly killing people now?" Tyler's anger flared, and he fired back.
Bang!
Another shot, and one of Andrew's men fell, his face marked by the same confusion.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
There was no time to take stock; the air filled with gunfire. Screams and groans filled the courtyard, as some fell wounded, and others lay still—lifeless.
The scene dissolved into chaos, the cries of the wounded and dying echoing through the cold night, reverberating across the entire complex.