Natalie was at a loss for words. A vial of knockout drugs? Damn it! Braxton and Tiffany really were scum. They dosed her with something so strong that even the residue could knock out a crocodile. No wonder her head still spun from time to time. If it weren't for Olivia, a doctor, staying by her side and experimenting with needle therapy, would she have been left with permanent aftereffects? The more Natalie thought about it, the angrier she got. No, she had to go downstairs later and beat the hell out of them again! Olivia handed her a piece of crocodile meat. "The neighbors took most of it, but I saved the best cut just for you." Natalie frowned. "They snatched your crocodile meat?" "Nope." Olivia winked playfully. "I sold it. I traded for a bunch of supplies." That was fine then. Natalie nodded. "Selling was the smart move. Leaving it here, it would just spoil in a couple of days. It would be a waste of good meat." "Exactly. I thought the same." Olivia pushed the meat toward her. "This portion is yours. No charge." Natalie hesitated. If she refused free food outright, it might make it seem like she had endless stockpiles at home. Three months had already passed since the apocalypse began—if she still acted like she lacked for nothing, people would start asking questions. So even though she wouldn't eat it, she accepted the meat.She didn't want to take it for nothing, though. As thanks, Natalie considered offering Olivia some dry rations in exchange. But this time, Olivia was adamant. "Natalie, I owe you too much. If you hadn't reached out when I was at my lowest, I'd be dead already." "This meat is just a token. It's nothing compared to the medicine you gave me." And with that, she bolted home before Natalie could argue. Natalie watched her go, feeling a deeper sense of respect. What a woman. Strong, but grateful. It was a shame that her handwriting looked like chicken scratch. Natalie recalled that note with letters that clawed across the page. She smirked, tucked the meat into her storage space, changed clothes, and got ready to head out. Lucky noticed she was leaving. The pup pawed at her leg and barked, "Arf, arf, arf!" Natalie, where are you going again? We haven't finished practicing boxing! Natalie knelt and patted her head. "Be good. Stay here. I'm going out to find myself a punching bag." On the eighth floor, she ran into Braxton and Tiffany just as they came back from outside. Tiffany and Braxton had gone out early that day. On their return, they'd panicked when they saw crocodiles all over the flooded streets. Thankfully, the beasts had eaten their fill and hadn't attacked. Braxton rowed their newly acquired kayak like his life depended on it, paddling hard toward their building. From a seventh-floor window, he spotted bloody streaks across the stairwell, along with a few broken crocodile teeth scattered on the ground. What the hell happened here?Shaken, he dragged Tiffany quickly toward home. They'd just stepped inside, about to shut the door—when Natalie appeared out of nowhere and threw a punch. Blood gushed from Braxton's nose. He clutched his face. "Natalie! Don't go too far!" Who barged into someone else's house just to start swinging? When she raised her fist again, Braxton threw up his arms to block. He hadn't expected her raw strength. Against Natalie, it was like a praying mantis trying to stop a car—his arm nearly snapped under the pressure. Her eyes blazed. "Don't move. Behave, or I'll end you right now." Braxton froze, hands over his head, enduring silently. It wasn't that he hadn't fought back.He had—countless times. But they never worked. Natalie hadn't even drawn a weapon this time. Her iron fists landed with enough force to feel like his bones were shattering. He had no idea what had set her off now. When he was on the verge of blacking out, she finally stopped. Braxton exhaled in relief—until he saw her whirl and pummel Tiffany next. Tiffany had no clue what was happening. She was already out of it, and now she looked even more lost. She stood there, tears spilling, snot running, wailing as Natalie laid into her. After a few blows, Natalie wrinkled her nose, disgusted at how filthy Tiffany looked, and stopped. She flexed her wrists, loosening them with a crack. Ding—daily boxing session completed. Braxton, miserable, muttered, "Why the hell are you here again, beating us up? Just to practice your punches?" He never would've guessed the real reason—that Olivia's drug-laced nails had dragged him into this disaster. "Shut up." Natalie shoved him hard onto the couch. Braxton yelped and bounced back up instantly—reacting worse than when she'd been pounding on him. Natalie arched a brow. What now? Got hemorrhoids or something? Watching her enemies suffer filled her with such wicked joy it almost felt like it could extend her life. Smirking, she shoved him back onto the couch again. "Ah!" Braxton howled like a slaughtered pig, sweat breaking out across his forehead. What the hell? Hemorrhoids weren't supposed to hurt this badly.