"Owen! Please save me, Owen!" Just one look at these guys and she knew—if she left with them, she would never make it out alive. However, Owen was pinned down himself. How could he possibly help her? He quickly switched tactics, fawning over Cyril. "Bro, she's my wife. I'll give her to you! I was foolish before, but if you let me off this time, I'll hand over food regularly from now on." Elena's face flushed with fury. "Owen, you coward! Let me go! I'm not his wife! He has no right to give me away!" Cyril did not even glance at them. With a wave of his hand, a few of his men gagged Elena and dragged her off. The neighbors watching from upstairs were secretly pleased.Everyone knew that this shameless pair had schemed, killed, and taken over everyone's food. Now, seeing them suffer felt like justice served. The only pity was that their stash had first been taken by Owen, and now by this ruthless gang. Cyril sifted through the supplies his men collected and noticed a huge stash of weapons. His guys said they had been hidden in odd corners, carefully stashed away. He gave Owen a mocking look. "Clever little rat, aren't you? Good thing we didn't rush upstairs—you're sly as hell." Owen, held down tightly, did not dare talk back. He just lowered his head and stayed quiet. Cyril's crew counted the haul, but his brow soon furrowed. "This is it? An entire complex's worth of food, and this is all you've got?" There was less here than in any other neighborhood—dry rations, snake meat, water, all scarce. Cyril turned toward Owen, who immediately looked away. Cyril sneered. "Trying to play games with me?" He slammed a fist into Owen's face, then pressed the gun to his temple. "Tell me. Where's the rest of the stash?" Owen cursed silently. This was exactly why he had split things up—kept some out in the open and hidden the rest in nearby empty apartments. Six months had passed since apocalypse struck, and half the residents were gone. In his building, things were even worse. The madwoman on the 14th floor had slaughtered many, leaving their floor nearly deserted. So, it made the empty units perfect hiding spots. And now he had run into real professionals. Cyril's crew had taken over plenty of neighborhoods. They knew how much food a place should have, and it had not taken them long to realize something was amiss. With the gun pressed against his head, Owen did not dare play games. He confessed everything. Better to live first—he could always figure out the rest later. The gang stormed into the empty units and soon unearthed even more supplies. Cyril holstered his gun, pleased at the growing pile. "Now that's more like it." Owen let out a sigh of relief, thinking he was safe.However, Cyril's next words crushed that hope. "You're a smart guy. Normally, I'd keep someone like you around to sniff out more supplies. But I've got to give my two dead brothers some payback." He raised the gun again. Owen's eyes widened when Cyril was about to pull the trigger. "Don't kill me! I know who else has food!" His desperate shout echoed between the buildings. The upstairs neighbors heard him clearly, and in an instant, everyone thought of the 14th and 15th floors. Their eyes lit up. Perfect! The psycho on 14 and the mechanic on 15 were finally going to get what was coming! A twisted joy filled their hearts.Why should those two get to live comfortably behind closed doors, hoarding food while the rest of them suffered? Now it was all fair—no one would be spared! With luck, the psycho would even drag these thugs down with her. Then the neighbors could reclaim their own food and grab whatever was left on 14 and 15. However, Natalie stayed calm. It was inevitable. Even if Owen had not sold her out, a month from now these guys would have come to collect their "protection food" anyway. Sooner or later, they would clash. Just then, someone knocked urgently on her door. "Natalie! It's me, Olivia!" When she opened it, Olivia burst in, fuming. "That Owen—what a bastard! Now he's trying to drag everyone else down with him!" Natalie was about to reply when another knock came at the stairwell door. It was Harold. As soon as she opened it, he blurted out, "Idol, come to my place! I've got more traps set up—it'll be easier to defend." Natalie felt a flicker of warmth. Even now, he was thinking of her, risking himself to come down. However, she shook her head. "No need." Harold looked like he wanted to argue, but Natalie just gave him a faint smile. "Don't worry. My place isn't so easy to break into either."