INCOMING DREAD

Sandra’s Pov

A cold, bitter smirk curved my lips. I swiped the screen and brought the phone to my ear, not saying a word.

"Sandra! What the hell did you just do?!" Drake’s voice exploded through the speaker, so loud and distorted that I had to pull the receiver an inch away from my ear. He was practically hyperventilating, his voice cracking with a frantic, unhinged rage I had never heard in him before. "Are you out of your mind?! Answer me, you crazy bitch!"

In the background, Selena’s shrill, frantic screeching echoed through the line, layered over his breathing.

"Drake, tell her! They gave us seven days! Seven days to pack our things and clear out! Where are we supposed to go?! Where am I going to live?!"

I didn't answer right away. I casually shifted my weight, leaning back against the brick wall, feeling the cool, rough texture bite through my coat. I let a slow, melodic laugh escape my throat, soft and maddeningly calm.

"What on earth are you talking about, dear husband?" I asked, my voice dripping with sweet, innocent confusion, intentionally fanning the flames. "Why are you screaming so loud?"

"Don't play dumb with me!" Drake bellowed, the sound of glass shattering or a chair being kicked over echoing behind him. "Two men in suits just showed up at the front door with an eviction notice! They said the deed was transferred to a foreign investment group and that we have a week to vacate! Who the hell do you think you are, Sandra?! You think just because you bought this house with your money four years ago, you can just throw us out on the street?!"

"Well... yes," I replied smoothly, inspecting my fingernails in the faint amber glow of the streetlamp.

"I am the sole owner of the house. My name is on the title, and the funds used to purchase it came entirely from my account. As the owner, I have every right to sell, demolish, or give it away whenever I see fit. Isn't that how property rights work, Drake?"

"Sandra! You ungrateful snake!"

Veronica’s voice suddenly surged over the line, sharp and trembling with venomous shock. I could picture her right now, her face blotchy red, her hands clutching her pearls as she stomped across the living room. "We took you in! We gave you a roof over your head when you were an orphan! How dare you turn around and spit in our faces?! Drake, take the phone! Tell her—"

"Listen to me carefully, Sandra,"

Drake snarled, cutting his mother off, his tone dropping into a dark, murderous whisper. "You think you're smart? You think throwing a legal paper at me makes you untouchable? I swear on my life, I will ruin you. I will mess you up so bad you’ll be crawling on your bloody knees, crying and begging for my mercy before the week is over! You won't have a single dollar left to your name!"

Instead of the panic he was desperately trying to provoke, a thrilling surge of adrenaline rushed through my veins. The fear he had cultivated in me for four long years was entirely gone, burned to ash by the memory of teeth tearing into my throat.

"Is that a promise, Drake?" I murmured, my voice chillingly soft, a dark smile spreading across my face. "Bring it on, then. Show me what you've got."

"You arrogant little—" Veronica started screaming in the background again, her voice reaching a frantic, hysterical pitch. "Drake, call the police! Call the lawyers! She can't do this to us—"

Click.

I pressed the red button mid-sentence, cutting her off into absolute silence.

I dropped my hand to my side. The warehouse was dead quiet. I looked down at my hands, my knuckles were bruised and scraped, dark red blood dried underneath my nails from hauling heavy crates of survival gear. I rubbed my palms against the fabric of my trousers, wiping away the grime.

Then, I threw my head back toward the dark, starless sky and let out a deep, primal, chest-shattering scream.

It started low in my stomach and ripped through my throat, echoing off the towering concrete walls of the warehouse district. It was four years of repressed rage, four years of quiet submission, and the sheer agony of a horrific death, all bleeding out of me at once.

When my lungs finally emptied, I gasped for air, a breathy, triumphant laugh bubbling up in my chest. I felt lighter. Whole and fulfilled.

I tapped my chest, feeling the quiet, invisible pulse of the dimensional storage space residing within my mind. Thousands of dollars worth of grain, meat, tools, and purified water were resting silently in that white void.

It’s still not enough, I thought, my eyes narrowing. The apocalypse lasts longer than a few months. But food means nothing without walls.

I couldn't build a life on revenge alone, nor could I hide in an abandoned warehouse when the world collapsed into chaos and flesh-eaters. I needed my fortress—the impenetrable haven in the Duncan County mountains. Once the foundation was laid, I would continue sweeping through wholesale markets until every inch of my infinite storage was bursting.

A bizarre, intoxicating thrill bloomed in my chest. In my previous life, I was a victim—a pathetic, helpless lamb tossed into the snow to be torn apart. But now? I had foresight. I had billions of dollars. I had a blue system.

A dark, expectant smile touched my lips as I pulled out my phone again. I wasn't terrified of the coming end; I was thrilled. I couldn't wait to see what would become of Drake, Selena, and Veronica when the world burned and they realized the woman they discarded was the only one holding the key to salvation.

My fingers swiped across my phone screen, searching for the highest-rated heavy industrial construction firm in the state: Vanguard Defense & Engineering Group.

I pressed call.

"Vanguard Group, emergency dispatch," a stern, professional male voice answered after two rings.

"I need a complete, high-grade fortified estate built in the Duncan County Mountain Sector," I said, my tone brisk and unyielding.

"Subterranean reinforcement, blast-proof alloy doors, independent power grid, and high-tensile perimeter fencing. I need your lead engineering team on-site tomorrow morning at 6:00 AM."

"Ma'am, a project of that scale requires weeks of consultation and blue-printing—"

"I am paying a twenty-five thousand dollar non-refundable retainer f*e right now just for an emergency overnight dispatch," I interrupted, typing on my phone's banking portal simultaneously. "And I will pay triple your standard labor rate for round-the-clock shifts. Check your account in ten seconds."

A brief silence hung over the line, followed by the rapid clicking of a keyboard. The man drew in a sharp breath. "Payment received, Ms. Ellis. Our chief structural engineer and three crews will be at the Duncan County site at dawn."

"Don't be late," I said, ending the call.

Worrying about Drake’s pathetic threats was the absolute least of my burdens. He was a ghost from a dead past; my future was being carved in steel and granite.

I turned away from the abandoned warehouse, walked out to the main avenue, and raised my hand. A yellow taxi pulled over immediately, its yellow headlights cutting through the evening haze.

"Take me to the Grand Horizon Hotel," I told the driver as I climbed into the back seat.

It was pointless to look for a permanent residential lease or head back to any familiar property now. In a few days, real estate wouldn't mean a single thing.

Ten minutes later, the cab dropped me off in front of the glittering glass tower of the Grand Horizon. I walked up to the marble reception desk, pulled out my card, and paid upfront for a two-week stay in a high-floor executive suite.

The hotel receptionist handed me a golden keycard with a polite smile. "Room 1402, Ms. Ellis. Enjoy your stay."

I took the elevator up, the soft chime announcing my arrival on the fourteenth floor. Walking down the plush, carpeted hallway, I unlocked the door to room 1402, stepped inside, and let the heavy wooden door click shut behind me. I tossed my bag onto the armchair and took a deep, exhausted breath, finally allowing my shoulder muscles to relax.

Pop.

Without warning, every light in the suite extinguished.

The hum of the central air conditioning died instantly. The soft glow of the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows plunged into pitch-black shadow as a sudden power grid failure swept through the block.

Total, suffocating darkness swallowed the room in a split second.

My heart slammed against my ribs. The temperature in the room felt as if it plummeted twenty degrees in an instant. A heavy, suffocating sense of dread—visceral, icy, and ancient—wrapped around my throat like a cold hand, locking the air in my lungs.