"Preston!"

The shout rang out as several women rushed to help the fallen man, while the rest of the group—mostly men—grabbed whatever makeshift weapons they could find and turned to glare at Ethan, eyes blazing.

"You son of a bitch! You hit Preston? You got a death wish or something?!"

Ethan didn't flinch. He raised his blood-smeared steel pipe and pointed it at them, voice cold and steady. "What, you wanna try me?"

The group hesitated. His presence hit like a wall—calm, but coiled with violence. No one moved.

Preston, groaning, was hauled to his feet by a few of the women. He clutched his ribs, face twisted with rage as he glared at Ethan.

"You're fucking dead! Kill him! I want him bleeding on the floor!"

Tension snapped taut. The room was seconds from erupting—until a woman's voice cut through the air.

"Chris?!"

Everyone turned. A young woman in a flowing green dress stood beside Preston, her face frozen in surprise. Pretty, with a soft, innocent look—Lola.

Chris's ex.

At the sound of her voice, Chris stiffened. Just for a second. Even now, even after everything, it still hit him like a punch to the chest. Three years of love didn't vanish overnight.

"Well, well," Preston sneered, spotting Chris. "If it isn't Lola's broke-ass ex. What, didn't get humiliated enough last time? Came back for seconds?"

So this was the guy Lola had cheated with. Preston.

Lola's expression hardened. "Chris, just go. There's nothing between us anymore."

Chris gave a bitter laugh, barely above a whisper. "I'm such an idiot. Still hoping you'd come back."

Preston wrapped an arm around Lola's waist, smug as hell. "Still hung up on my girl, huh? Hate to break it to you, but Lola's way out of your league. Always was."

Ethan chuckled. "Man, bragging about your hand-me-downs? That's just sad."

He clapped Chris on the shoulder. "Forget her, bro. She's old news. But hey, if you wanna knock that smug look off his face, I'm all in."

"Hell yeah," Henry added. "Say the word, and we'll flatten him."

Chris shook his head. "No. She's a stranger now. Not worth the mess."

He turned to Ethan. "Let's just grab the food and go."

Ethan sighed. "Alright, your call."

But just because they were willing to walk away didn't mean everyone else was.

Preston sneered. "Ha! Typical loser. All bark, no bite. You think you get to touch our food? You don't belong here!"

Then he snapped, "Break their legs! I want them crawling out of here!"

That was all it took. The men who'd been hesitating clenched their jaws, grabbed metal pipes, and charged.

Ethan sighed. "You asked for it."

He stepped forward and swung his steel pipe in a lazy arc—crack. The first guy went down like a sack of bricks, groaning on the floor.

Another swing—wham—caught two more in the chest. They flew back, coughing blood, crashing into shelves.

Chris and Henry jumped in, metal pipes in hand, moving like they'd done this a hundred times. Every swing landed with brutal precision. Anyone they hit stayed down.

In less than a minute, the fight was over.

Ten-plus men lay sprawled across the floor, groaning, clutching limbs, or too dazed to move.

The rest of the room stared in stunned silence.

What the hell were these guys? Monsters?

Chris stepped forward, boots echoing on the tile as he closed the distance between him and Preston.

Preston's bravado cracked instantly. He stumbled back, voice rising with panic. "Y-You don't want to do this! I'm the heir to the Davenport Corporation! You lay a finger on me, and you're dead!"

"Yeah, Chris, don't do anything stupid," Lola added, her voice tight with nerves.

Chris turned his gaze to her. "You care about him that much?"

"I… he's my boyfriend. Please don't hurt him."

Chris let out a cold laugh. "Boyfriend? That word sounds disgusting coming out of your mouth."

His eyes narrowed. "You picked him because he's rich, right? But guess what—this is the apocalypse. Money's worthless now. And him?" He jabbed a finger at Preston. "He's just another useless sack of meat."

Then he looked Preston dead in the eye.

"I was willing to walk away. But you just couldn't shut up. So now, let's settle the score."

Without another word, Chris drove his boot straight into Preston's groin.

"AAAHHH—!"

The scream that tore out of Preston's throat was so raw, so high-pitched, it made everyone in the room flinch. A few even instinctively crossed their legs.

Chris stood over him, voice like ice. "Next time, keep that thing in check. Don't let it ruin lives."

Preston couldn't answer. He was too busy writhing on the floor, clutching himself as blood soaked through his pants.

"Chris, you—!" Lola gasped, eyes wide with shock. She hadn't expected this. Not from him.

Chris turned to her, his expression unreadable. "What? You want a turn?"

She shrank back, lips parting but no words coming out.

Chris gave a small, satisfied smile. The weight in his chest—the bitterness, the humiliation—it all lifted. He turned and walked back to Ethan and Henry, lighter than he'd felt in weeks.

The rest of the room stared at him like he was a wild animal. No one dared move.

"Damn, Chris," Ethan said, clapping him on the shoulder. "That was solid."

Chris shook his head. "Let's just get the food."

"Yeah."

The three of them headed deeper into the store, leaving behind a room full of stunned, silent people.

Preston was still howling, curled up in a bloody heap. Lola hovered nearby, torn between comforting him and not knowing how.

Then came the sound.

Footsteps. Dozens of them. Shuffling, scraping, growing louder by the second.

The screams had drawn them in.

Zombies.

"They're coming!" someone shouted.

"Block the door!" a woman cried out.

"Shut him up first!" another snapped.

Lola dropped to her knees and clamped a hand over Preston's mouth. He glared at her, eyes wild with pain and betrayal.

You kidding me?! He just wrecked my balls, and now I can't even scream?!

But the pounding on the rolling shutter cut off any protest. The metal rattled violently as the undead slammed into it.

A few of the less-injured men scrambled to their feet and dragged another shelving unit over, bracing it against the door.

From the back of the store, Ethan, Chris, and Henry watched the chaos unfold.

They didn't intervene.

In a place like this, zombies breaking in didn't mean much. The aisles were wide, the shelves tall, and the three of them were more than capable of handling a few strays.

Right now, they had more important things to do.

They moved quickly, stuffing their backpacks with anything useful—bread, bottled water, crackers, canned goods. Anything that would keep.

They wouldn't be staying here long. Crystals still needed hunting. Food was just fuel.

Ethan cracked open a bottle of Coke, took a swig, and exhaled. "Sounds like a decent horde out there. Might be a pain getting out. Should've shut that guy up earlier."

Chris gave a rueful smile. "He just stole my girlfriend. Didn't think that was worth killing over."

Ethan shrugged. "Sometimes you gotta be ruthless. That's how you survive out here. But yeah… I get it. That kind of switch doesn't flip overnight. You'll get there."

...

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