Ryan stood at the entrance of the villa, hefting a large sack over his shoulder.
Outside, Anthony, Nathan, Isaac, and the newly joined Luther, along with their respective crews, stood eagerly, their eyes brimming with anticipation like a pack of hungry pups waiting to be fed.
"Anthony, step up and collect your rations!"
Ryan reached into the sack and pulled out a pre-portioned packet of food. This was his favorite part of the day—a moment where he could bask in a fleeting illusion of dominion, relishing the feeling of reigning supreme.
This must be what it feels like to be truly powerful.
Anthony sauntered forward with a fawning grin, taking the food with exaggerated gratitude. "Thanks, Brother Ryan, and of course, thanks to Miles for his generosity!"
"Work hard, and Miles will always reward the loyal," Ryan replied, his tone cold and imposing as he nodded solemnly.
"Isaac," Ryan called next.
Isaac approached, equally obsequious, and collected his share without protest.
When it came time for Nathan, Ryan barely glanced up. He tossed a meager packet of food out the door with visible disdain and turned his attention elsewhere, effectively dismissing him.
"Brother Ryan!" Nathan's voice quivered with a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Why is ours so little? This isn't even enough for thirty portions!"
"Have you earned it?" Ryan retorted icily.
"We… we caught two zombies this week, but Anthony's crew stole them! Everyone can vouch for it!"
"Get lost!" Anthony sneered, stepping forward. "Can't take care of your own business, and now you're blaming me? Where's your proof? Did anyone see me take your zombies?"
Nathan's face flushed with anger as he pointed a trembling finger at Anthony. "You robbed us! Do you dare deny it in front of Miles himself?"
"I don't owe you any explanations!" Anthony scoffed before spinning on his heel, his contemptuous laugh echoing as he walked away.
Ryan offered no intervention, merely smirking before continuing the handouts. "Luther."
Luther and Thomas moved forward in unison, calmly taking their thirty portions. As they turned to leave, Thomas paused by Nathan, resting a hand on his arm.
"Let it go, Nathan," he said quietly. "There's no point. Don't you see that Ryan and Anthony are in cahoots?"
Nathan's anger simmered beneath the surface as he clenched his fists and muttered under his breath, "One day, I'll kill them both."
Back at the six-story apartment, Nathan slammed his fist against a weathered sofa.
"Enough! I'm done!"
Thomas leaned back against the wall, his demeanor cool and calculated. "Think it through. If you make your move and fail to kill Miles, you know what your end will look like."
"I don't care anymore!" Nathan's bloodshot eyes burned with fury. "Two of my brothers are dead because of Anthony. We break our backs working, only to be starved and humiliated? I'd rather die than endure this any longer!"
"Good," Luther interjected, slapping a packet of crackers into Nathan's hands. "That's what I'm talking about! This world is broken; we'll smash it to pieces! Screw the system—if we're going down, we're going down fighting!"
"Exactly! Let's do it!" Luther's crew cheered in agreement, their voices adding fuel to Nathan's seething rage.
Thomas waited for the fervor to die down before stepping in. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "If we're doing this, we'll need a plan…"
While plotting brewed on one side, life in Miles's villa remained tranquil and deceptively serene.
Lisa emerged from the kitchen, clad in a simple apron, her soft smile radiating warmth. "Dinner is ready, Master. I made salmon today—please try it."
The most captivating women often relied on simple means to capture a man's heart. Lisa's gentle demeanor, diligent care, and quiet elegance had worked their way into Miles's life. Over time, he had grown accustomed to her presence, to the comfort she provided.
For Lisa, the key to survival lay in knowing her place. She didn't aim to be a towering tree but a resilient vine clinging to its strength.
Thus, she met Miles's every need with unfailing devotion—even anticipating his unspoken desires. Occasionally, she'd show a flash of temper, just enough to remind him that she was still human, not merely a pet or toy to be discarded.
"You've been learning new recipes?" Miles asked, sliding into his chair. Lisa, ever attentive, set a piece of boneless salmon on his plate, lightly drizzled with sauce.
"Of course," Lisa replied brightly. "I was worried it might not turn out well, but if you like it, I'll make it often."
With several tons of premium ingredients stored away in his vault, Miles could feast like a king every day for a lifetime without exhausting his supply.
After the meal, Lisa brought out a basin of warm water, kneeling beside him to remove his socks and wash his feet.
"I heard there was some commotion outside today," she said casually, her tone light yet probing.
Miles smirked. "Nathan surprised me—turns out he's a natural actor."
Lisa chuckled softly, massaging his feet as she spoke. "That Nathan always seemed like a simple, honest man. Who knew he'd be so convincing as a liar?"
"Honesty is just another word for repressed," Miles quipped. "The South Mountain kids have been courting him hard these past few days. My guess is they'll make their move soon."
"What's your plan?" Lisa asked nonchalantly.
Miles leaned back, his smile fading into a contemplative expression. "I'd rather not kill them. They've done nothing to me, and I have no desire to become a butcher."
"But if you don't kill them, they'll kill you," Lisa replied matter-of-factly.
Miles raised an eyebrow. "You used to preach that a doctor's duty was to save lives, not take them."
"That was before…" Lisa's voice trailed off, her gaze fixed on the water as she continued washing. "A starving man ceases to be a man. I once believed that holding onto one's humanity could change the world, but survival strips people of their decency. Kill, or be killed—that's the truth of this world now."
Miles sighed deeply. "In a lawless world, killing becomes its own kind of rule."
A sharp series of beeps interrupted their conversation. The walkie-talkie on the table buzzed with urgency.
"Miles," Isaac's voice crackled through. "They're making their move."
Miles's eyes narrowed as he responded, his tone cold and commanding. "Good. Keep them in your sights. Wait until they're all inside, and then… we'll finish this."