Miles watched his phone screen, smirking as he imagined Ella struggling through the blizzard, wondering if she'd survive long enough to reach him. If she froze to death en route, that would almost be too merciful an end for her.
He switched over to the neighborhood chat, where the property manager was still futilely trying to placate the restless residents. Each attempt was met with a torrent of abuse, especially from the outspoken woman next door. She'd once seen the property staff stockpiling supplies, but despite a thorough search, no one had managed to find them since.
Fortunately for him, the property office was located away from the residential area, or else the manager would likely have been torn apart by the mob by now. But none of this concerned Miles; he observed the messages with an unfeeling detachment. Even if the whole lot of them starved, he wouldn't spare an ounce of sympathy. After all, no one had shown him any in his previous life.
Over in the A-section villas, Andrew was also following the chat. Since the skirmish a few days prior, things hadn't gone well for him and his gang. Two of his injured men hadn't made it through the night, succumbing to their wounds by morning. Though Andrew was unscathed, his supplies were almost gone. Without more food, even if he didn't starve, the infighting among his men would soon tear them apart.
"Boss, please, just a little food. We can't hold out much longer," one of his men pleaded.
Andrew glanced at the locked safe beside him, hesitated, then picked up his phone.
"Miles, my friend?"
Miles's tone was light as he replied, "Andrew! What's up?"
Playing dumb, huh?
Andrew forced a chuckle. "Miles, my friend, we're starving over here. You must still have plenty of supplies. How about sharing some with us?"
Last time, Miles had toyed with him, so Andrew kept his tone measured, hiding his irritation.
"Oh?" Miles pretended to consider. "Truth is, my stash is running low too…"
Nonsense.
With two million dollars' worth of goods, he's already running out?
Andrew's patience was fraying, but he chuckled through gritted teeth. "Come on, Miles. We all know what you've got. Sure, your fortress is sturdy, but you can't stay inside forever, can you?"
A thinly veiled threat. He continued, "Share some food with us, and I promise—walk out that door anytime, and I'll make sure no one bothers you."
As if he's the only one with a gun, Miles thought.
Feigning reluctance, he replied, "Alright, Andrew. I'll split what I have left, but this is my limit. After this… there's nothing more."
Coward.
Andrew smirked. "Fine, fine… same arrangement. Leave it out front, and we'll come pick it up…"
"Done."
This time, Andrew decided not to send his men, fearing the ravenous crowd of residents might intercept them. Opening the safe, he pulled out a gun and loaded two extra magazines before striding out with his men.
Miles waited a few minutes, calculating when Andrew would be away, then sent a message to the group chat: "Everyone, I can't keep ignoring your requests, but I only have so much left myself…"
The chat erupted.
Could it be? Was Miles finally going to help them?
Messages flooded in:
"Miles, we don't need much. Once the crisis is over, we'll pay you back, I swear!"
"Please, Miles, just a little. We'll owe you, whatever you ask, when this ends."
"Help us out, Miles…"
After letting them plead for a few moments, Miles sent a voice message: "Alright, fine. Andrew just asked for a share too. Rather than let him take everything, I'd rather we all have a bit."
"That Andrew… always hoarding…" someone muttered.
"Don't worry, Miles," another resident assured. "Give us a chance, and we'll stand up to him!"
"Exactly! We're already starving—if Andrew wants a fight, let's give him one!"
The recent deaths had hardened them. Everyone knew the crisis wouldn't end soon, and if it ever did, the world would be unrecognizable. Faced with death, no one was about to worry about going quietly.
Over an hour later, there was a knock at the villa's front door. Miles watched from his second-floor window, enabling the one-way glass. He waved down at Andrew and called, "Everything's in the yard, Andrew."
Seeing the pile of supplies in the yard, Andrew led his men forward. But before they could start loading, a distant commotion drew their attention.
A mass of people was closing in.
"B-Boss, this…" one of Andrew's men stammered, looking out at the sea of people. At least a thousand, likely every resident of the compound, advancing like a single, unstoppable tide.
Even Miles was taken aback, watching with a slight smirk. This was bound to be quite a show.
Andrew involuntarily took a step back, but quickly steeled himself, drawing his gun and firing a shot into the air.
Bang!
The crowd hesitated, their steps faltering, fear momentarily overpowering their desperation.
But only for a moment. They resumed their approach, more cautious but no less determined.
Andrew fired again, and the crowd halted.
He exhaled a breath of relief, brandishing his gun at them. "Back off! This food is mine!"
"That's a lie!" The woman from next door poked her head out, shouting, "Miles told us in the chat that this was for everyone!"
Damn you, Miles.
Andrew seethed and shouted up at the window, "Miles! What's your game?"
Miles met his gaze with a serene smile. "Why don't you guess?"
Andrew's face twisted in anger. "Guess? You think I'm a kid playing guessing games here?"
Miles shrugged nonchalantly. "You've already taken so much, Andrew. Would it kill you to share a little? No need to be greedy."
As soon as he finished, someone in the crowd called out, "Exactly! No need to hog everything, Andrew. You've already grabbed enough, and now you want more? No way!"
"That's right! We won't let you!"
"Share it out!"
"Let's take him down if we have to!"