The apartment complex had grown quieter than before. More people were dying from fever and snake infestations, and the number of survivors was shrinking rapidly. Natalie rarely left the 14th floor. She slept through the day, then at night she went to Olivia's for needle therapy and long conversations. Back home, she trained, exercised her dog, brought Cash to the storage space for water, and ended her nights watching old movies. Her days were simple but full. That evening, the temperature finally broke. The night air dropped into the 120s. The survivors started coming out again. Natalie was at Olivia's place, mid-conversation, when a sharp explosion tore through the stairwell. The sound slammed into her ears, raw and violent. She froze and locked eyes with Olivia. Both of them went rigid. It had been a gunshot. Olivia's voice shook. "Natalie, could that have been fireworks?" Natalie shook her head. "It didn't sound like fireworks." No one would set off fireworks in the middle of the apocalypse. Olivia's eyes widened. "Then it really was a gunshot?" She had only ever heard that sound on TV. She wasn't certain, but she couldn't think of another explanation. When Natalie gave her a slow nod, Olivia's hand clenched into a fist.The world had collapsed. There were no laws, morals, or order left. The only thing that had protected her so far was the nail gun Natalie had given her and her own stubborn grit. But against a real firearm, she had no chance. Even Natalie, as skilled as she was, couldn't stop a bullet with her bare hands. Olivia's voice trembled. "Nat, why would someone here have a gun?" Natalie frowned. "I don't know." And she meant it. In her past life, no gunfire had ever echoed inside this building. Was this the butterfly effect of her second life? The apocalypse had unfolded in the same broad strokes—the timing, the disasters, the collapse. But the lives around her had already changed.Braxton and Tiffany had died too soon. She had killed her neighbor with a chainsaw. Harold, once a recluse, was now active in the community. Olivia was still alive. Ghania's injury had healed. Her rebirth had started a ripple effect that kept twisting fate. Whatever the reason, one truth was certain. Someone here had a gun. Natalie had trained with firearms at the mansion. That sharp crack had definitely been a pistol. She wasn't scared. A pistol was nothing against her MAC-10 and assault rifle. But a hidden weapon inside the complex meant danger. If someone got bold and fired from behind, she could die before she had time to react. If she figured out who had it, though, that person wouldn't stand a chance. In a head-on firefight, no one in Northlorn could match her. Olivia twisted her hands. "We don't even know who's holding that gun." Natalie leaned back calmly. "Don't worry. Whoever has it won't stay quiet for long." Unlike her, the others didn't have endless food or supplies. They wouldn't keep a gun for defense. Whoever held it would use it—loudly—to take what they wanted. Olivia nodded slowly. "You're right. Either way, we're not leaving this apartment. We'll wait and see." Meanwhile, in Unit 1302. Owen collapsed onto the bed, his chest heaving. After a long breath, he forced himself up, nudged the body sprawled in a pool of blood with his foot, and only when it didn't move did he exhale in relief.His gaze fell on the cold, black pistol in his hand. Elena crouched nearby, pale and shaken. "Owen ... are you okay?" Owen let out a harsh laugh. "I'm fine." He had hidden sharp weapons in every corner of the apartment. Without them, he would already be dead. The man on the floor had come as a client—but not a regular one. Owen had lured him earlier, outside Braxton's unit on the eighth floor. Business had dried up during the brutal heatwave, with no one dared leave their homes. As soon as the temperature dropped, Owen rushed out to search for customers. That was when he noticed a man lingering outside Braxton's door, introducing himself as Edric. Owen's eyes lit up.Everyone knew what Braxton and his cousin had been up to. This man had to be looking for the same thing. He walked right up to him. "Looking for Braxton and Tiffany? They've been gone a while. But if you're in the mood, come upstairs with me. The women I have are better than Tiffany." And just like that, he pulled the man inside. But Owen hadn't known that Edric was the sadist who once tortured Braxton and Tiffany. He had assumed Edric wanted company. He hadn't realized the man's twisted desires. Not long after entering, Elena had been stripped and shoved, screaming, into the living room.