Police were still just people. Even before the apocalypse, their numbers had been stretched thin. After the disasters and rescue missions, even fewer survived. Meanwhile, criminal gangs were multiplying exponentially, spreading like weeds and committing crimes everywhere. Many public servants had fallen at the hands of these thugs. "These people are elusive. They cover everything but their eyes and carry guns. Worse, they bribe locals to act as informants. Those who call the police or resist meet an even worse fate." The residents of the 18th floor exchanged glances, and Jasmine couldn't hold back her disdain. "If they want it, they can take it from someone else. I'm not handing over a d*mn thing." She was the type to dish out punishment, not take it. Nadia remained calm, her tone steady. "Ms. Donner, none of us on the 18th floor will be handing over any supplies."Elizabeth nodded in understanding. "Austin and his parents don't start work for a few days. When the time comes, we'll face them together. I won't drag you young folks down with me." Returning home, Elizabeth called her family together. "I'm with the 18th floor on this. We're not giving up protection supplies. What do you all think?" An elder in the family was worth their weight in gold, and the Hadid Family respected Elizabeth as their matriarch. George immediately agreed. "Mom, we'll follow your lead." "Good. It's important you understand," Elizabeth said firmly. "But it's not just us. We need others to stand with us, too. The harder things get, the more united we need to be. If those people come for us, the 17th floor will be the first to suffer. We need to get the two other families here on the same page. "Everyone's afraid of dying, but fear alone won't save us. We're already outmatched in skill. If we cower on top of that, it'll break everyone's morale. Nobody's stupid. You might dodge them once, but you won't dodge them twice. And if I'm not here someday, you need to hold the line. Giving in to fear will only make death come faster." After finishing her heart-to-heart with her family, Elizabeth went next door to talk to the neighbors. The discussion went surprisingly smoothly, and both households agreed to stand together. With that settled, Elizabeth finally felt some relief. … The next day, the 18th floor was bustling with their usual morning routines. The sound of people and dogs moving around filled the air—thuds, bangs, and clatters. Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted from below, followed by blood-curdling screams. The cacophony of noises seemed loud enough to shake the building. Everyone paused, exchanging grim looks—the collectors had arrived. Panic gripped the building. Fear spread like wildfire, and the residents were terrified to even mention the collectors. Hunter, still managing to maintain a good reputation, was the one most of the survivors turned to for leadership. He didn't disappoint, quickly organizing an effort to unite and resist the collectors. But things didn't go as planned. Hunter was the first to be dragged into a neighboring room, where he was beaten mercilessly until his face was bloodied and swollen. And it didn't stop with him. Other key figures were also beaten, and one young woman with good looks narrowly avoided being assaulted in front of everyone. The collectors, enraged by the resistance, doubled down. "Other buildings hand over three pounds a month, but since you lot want to play tough, six pounds a month! Anyone unwilling to pay, step forward. I'll treat you to some peanuts!" The implication was clear—bullets. Hunter, despite his injuries, forced himself to his feet. "We can't… We just can't! Six pounds a month is impossible! That's a death sentence for us!" "So, you're the tough guy, huh?" And so, Hunter was dragged back into the room and beaten even more viciously. By the time they threw him back out, he looked like a bloodied ragdoll, barely clinging to life. The lead collector sneered. "This is what happens if you don't pay." Despite his condition, Hunter forced himself to speak, his voice weak and trembling. "Please… six pounds is too much. Can't… Can't we pay three like the others?" The leader didn't speak but stared coldly at Hunter, his gaze piercing. Hunter staggered to his feet, wiping the blood from his face. "I've let you all down. I promised to protect everyone, and I failed. If you're angry, blame me—curse me, hit me, whatever you want. But there's nothing more important than staying alive. They agreed to reduce it from six pounds to three. If this beating made that happen, it was worth it. Those who have grain, hand it over. For those who don't… I can't do much more for you…" He coughed violently, coughing blood onto the floor. The crowd seethed with rage. Every other building only had to give up three pounds. Why were they being squeezed for six? But seeing Hunter take the beating for them silenced their complaints—for now. Still, the resentment simmered beneath the surface. Finally, one bold voice shouted, "If you want us to pay, make the people on the 18th floor give up their grain first!" The others were stunned but quickly caught on. "Yeah! If the 18th floor pays, we'll pay too—not a single pound less than they do!" "And what about the 17th floor? They've got plenty of supplies in their units. If you're so tough, go make them hand it over instead of picking on us easy targets!" The outburst snowballed into a storm of angry voices, their emotions boiling over. The leader scowled, realizing that without breaking the 17th and 18th floors, this situation wouldn't be resolved. Fine by him—he'd already planned to target the 18th floor. Once they were dealt with, no one else in the building would dare resist. Under Hunter's reluctant guidance, the collectors moved toward the 18th floor, their attitudes cocky and domineering. Meanwhile, the rest of the survivors watched with schadenfreude. Whoever won or lost, they'd get to vent their frustrations either way. A double knockout would be ideal. Before long, the sound of fists pounding on the 16th-floor staircase door echoed through the building. On the 18th floor, Nadia and the others stood at the staircase, hearing everything clearly. She had no words for the foolishness of the crowd downstairs. Since they'd already come this far, it was time to meet them head-on. Fully armed, the group descended, with even Colby volunteering to take his place in line. Of course, Lily was locked in the apartment again, safe from harm's way. When they reached the 17th floor, the Hadid Family was already waiting at the landing, gripping sticks and pipes. They looked nervous and scared but stood their ground. Nadia frowned. "Where are the people from 1702 and 1703? Why aren't they out here?" Elizabeth's expression was awkward. "I knocked, but no one answered. They're probably out scavenging for supplies." The excuse was obvious, but no one called her out. The 18th-floor crew hadn't been counting on them anyway and kept descending, their formation unchanged. The only difference was the addition of the Hadid Family bringing up the rear. When the collectors finally saw the group emerge, they froze. Nadia's long legs, the glint of her expensive saber, her icy gaze, and her strikingly beautiful face drew their attention instantly. The leader hesitated, a flicker of distraction crossing his mind. It was almost as if some dramatic soundtrack had started playing in his head. In the apocalypse, most survivors were disheveled, barely looking human. But Nadia was the picture of health, her skin glowing and smooth. And then there was the woman standing behind her, her thighs thicker than most men's arms. How much food did it take to maintain that? And that pretty boy with the spiked club? His face was almost too delicate—like a woman's. The leader smirked, already imagining new toys to bring back. Yeah, the 18th floor had treasures, and he'd take them all. He raised his gun, aiming it at Nadia's head through the stairwell bars. "17th and 18th floors, huh? This complex is under our control now. Starting today, each of you owes 100 pounds of grain every month. We'll ensure your safety. Refuse, and, well… Ask my little friend here if it's okay." The crowd gasped, their eyes wide with shock. A hundred pounds per month? That's insanity! Some survivors smirked bitterly, taking pleasure in the 18th floor's misfortune. Serves them right for not sharing their hoard earlier. Now they'll pay the price! As if they'd forgotten their own inability to scrape together even three pounds, they reveled in the thought of the 18th-floor suffering. Nadia didn't respond right away. Instead, she turned her gaze to Harrison, whose expression was unreadable, his deep eyes fixed coldly on the leader, who strutted around with his gun. There were only five of them—two with guns, three with iron rods—yet they had managed to cow the entire SOHO Community into submission. Catching Harrison's signal, Nadia couldn't help but chuckle. She casually dug a finger into her ear and said, "I'm sorry. Could you repeat that? I didn't quite catch it."