CHAPTER FOUR

“Evie! Where are you?” Ethan’s irritated voice carried up the staircase.

I stayed still for a moment, my phone in my hand, then slipped it into my pocket and left my room.

He stood in the living room, staring toward the stairs. The moment he saw me, his expression hardened. “Finally. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

I descended the remaining steps without answering.

“I’m talking to you, Evie.”

“I can hear you.”

His jaw tightened. “Then perhaps you can explain why Lily called me practically in tears because you refused to help her.”

I headed toward the dining area for a glass of water. He followed close behind.

“Are you seriously going to ignore me?”

I turned. “What exactly do you want me to say, Ethan? Lily asked me for money. I refused. It’s as simple as that.”

“Simple?” He stared at me as though I’d said something outrageous. “You know how much this business means to her. You’ve always supported her. Suddenly, you’re acting as though helping your best friend will ruin you.”

A little help. I almost laughed. He had no idea what that money could mean when the world began to fall apart. Neither did Lily. They were so used to thinking about what I could do for them that neither considered what I might need for myself.

“I’ve made my decision,” I said.

“And I’m asking you to reconsider it.”

“Then you’ve wasted your time.”

His face darkened. “What has gotten into you lately? First, you make those strange comments about the next few months, and now you’re treating Lily as though she’s a stranger. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

For one dangerous second, I considered telling him about the ruined cities, the werewolf rogues, and the way he had left me outside the shelter gates. But he would think I was unstable, and I wasn’t ready to place my future in his hands.

“I’m tired, Ethan. I don’t want to argue.”

“Of course. The moment you’re confronted, you suddenly don’t want to talk.”

I picked up my glass and walked past him.

“Evie!” he called furiously.

I stopped in the doorway but didn’t turn around.

“If this is about something Lily did, tell me. There’s no reason to behave like this over a simple misunderstanding.”

A simple misunderstanding. I remembered Mika’s small hand slipping from mine, the shelter gates closing, and Ethan looking at me as though my life meant nothing. There were things he could never understand, and I no longer had the energy to make him understand them.

“Goodnight, Ethan.”

“I’m not done talking to you yet!”

I kept walking. His angry muttering followed me up the stairs, but I didn’t look back. I had more important things to do than convince my husband that I had the right to make decisions about my own money.

For the first time in my life, his displeasure wasn’t enough to make me turn around. It felt like the beginning of something good.

---

The following morning, I left the house before breakfast.

Nana offered to prepare something for me, but I promised I would eat when I returned. Before leaving, I reminded her to keep her phone nearby and showed her how to reach me with one touch. She looked concerned by my insistence, but she didn’t press me for answers.

I had barely slept. The ruined city and the faces of people I’d failed to save kept returning whenever I closed my eyes. The memory of the werewolf rogues was the worst. Once the transformation took hold, they became monstrous, wolf-like creatures: coarse fur spreading over their bodies, fingers becoming hooked claws, jaws stretching around sharp fangs, and eyes glowing amber or gold in the dark.

Some ran upright; others dropped to all fours, moving with frightening speed. Their hearing and sense of smell could lead them to survivors hiding nearby. Their claws could shred wood and softer metal, their jaws could break weakened doors, and their strength could scatter makeshift barricades. They could also leap higher than expected and climb rough walls by gripping cracks and ledges. A tall fence alone wasn't safety. It was only a delay.

But beneath my fear was something stronger than dread. I had a plan, and every hour I spent preparing could mean the difference between living and dying.

Mr. Ayes, the property consultant, was waiting for me in his office. He stood when I entered and gestured toward a chair.

“Good morning, Mrs. Steele.”

“Good morning.”

“I reviewed your message. You’re looking for three properties suitable for extensive renovation, preferably away from densely populated areas. One primary residence and two backup locations.”

“Exactly.”

“And you want the work started immediately?”

“Yesterday, if possible.”

He studied me briefly, perhaps wondering why someone with an already comfortable life suddenly needed three properties prepared in such a hurry. I didn’t give him the opportunity to ask.

“I need land, existing structures, and reliable access to water. I don’t want properties that will require years of development. They must be suitable for renovation now.”

He opened a folder. “I’ve shortlisted three possibilities. I’ve also spoken with a construction firm experienced in renovating large estates. Their project director has agreed to meet us this morning.”

Relief eased some of the tension in my shoulders. “Good. Let’s go.”

---

The construction firm’s office was in a modern commercial building across the city. During the drive, I reviewed the property photographs and preliminary reports.

The first property was a large estate on the city’s outskirts, with a spacious house, garden, and room for storage. The second was a countryside residence in another state. The third was farther away, but its sturdy house and separate access road made it a useful fallback.

None was perfect, but perfection wasn’t what I needed. I needed places that could be made secure before September arrived.

A woman in a charcoal suit greeted us when we entered the conference room.

“Evie Steele? I’m Claire Norris, the project director overseeing the renovations.”

I shook her hand. “Thank you for making time for this meeting.”

“Mr. Ayes explained your tight schedule.” She gestured toward the property reports and drawings. “Let’s discuss what’s realistic and how quickly we can mobilize.”

“That’s exactly what I want to do.”

I opened my folder. The primary residence needed to become a fortress, not simply a large house behind a wall. I wanted reinforced structures and windows, controlled entrances, and living areas separated from storage. We would need space for food, medicine, tools, and equipment, plus dependable water, filtration, backup electricity, and safely stored fuel.

Claire listened and took notes. “The first property has a sound foundation. We can reinforce the perimeter and convert the outbuildings into storage and utility spaces.”

“I don’t want a decorative wall that looks impressive but fails under pressure.”

“We’ll have the engineers assess the foundations before choosing a design. Reinforced concrete, structural supports, heavy-duty metal gates, and secure fittings may be appropriate, depending on the site.”

“What about the windows and anything a person could use to climb over the boundary?”

“We can reinforce the window frames and glazing, then identify low roofs, nearby structures, or trees that create access points.”

I had seen rogues claw up rough surfaces and leap from vehicles to ledges. Overhanging branches and footholds could turn a wall into a climbing route. Height alone would not be enough.

“I want the security assessment to account for climbing, jumping, and repeated impact,” I said. “I know nothing is indestructible, but I need the weak points identified before work begins.”

“We’ll propose layered protection rather than relying on a single barrier,” Claire assured me.

“And the water supply?”

“A specialist will inspect the site before confirming the best solution. We can arrange that immediately.”

“The other properties must function independently, too.”

“We’ll assess each structure, secure its boundary, and identify the utility work required.”

I leaned forward. “How long?”

Claire exchanged a glance with an engineer beside her. “If we mobilize separate teams at all three sites and receive the necessary approvals promptly, we can aim to complete the essential renovation work within three weeks.”

“Essential work isn’t enough if the properties aren’t secure.”

“I understand. We’ll prioritize structural reinforcement, the perimeter and entrances, water, electricity, and the conversion of existing spaces. Some finishing work may continue afterward, but the immediate goal will be to make each site functional and defensible.”

Three weeks. That would leave me roughly five weeks before the apocalypse began. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

“I want you overseeing all three projects, with a site supervisor at each location. They must function independently, but follow the same standard of security. Send regular reports, and contact me before any major cost increases.”

“Understood.”

We covered staffing, drainage, reinforced doors, secure rooms, safe fuel storage, and ways to keep essential systems running if deliveries stopped. I wasn’t expecting indestructible houses. I needed layered protection and reliable utilities when ordinary services failed.

“We’ll prepare the plans and preliminary costs. If arrangements stay on schedule, we can aim to finish the essential work within three weeks.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” I said, gathering my papers.

---

We reached the primary property shortly before noon. Claire, Mr. Ayes, and two members of the construction team joined me for the inspection. Seeing the estate in person was different from studying it on a screen.

The house stood well back from the entrance, surrounded by mature trees and open land. Beyond the boundary, the ground sloped toward a wooded area. The location was far enough from the city’s busiest streets to avoid the largest crowds, yet close enough to obtain materials while transport still functioned. I pointed out branches that could provide rogues with a route over the wall.

The main structure appeared sound, although several windows needed replacing and the rear section required reinforcement. The outbuildings could become storage and utility rooms. I checked the corridors and doors, considering how quickly we could reach a secure room in an emergency.

Outside, I pointed out where I wanted the boundary strengthened and the entrance redesigned.

“I don’t want the entire property visible from the road,” I explained. “The entrance must be controlled, and the living area should be separated from the storage spaces. I also want a secondary exits in case the front becomes inaccessible.”

The engineer made a note. “We’ll check whether the current access can be reinforced and where a second exit could be placed without creating another weak point.”

Claire accompanied me toward the rear of the property, where we discussed possible locations for water storage and additional structures.

“What about the well?” I asked.

“We’ll have the ground assessed first,” she replied. “I won’t promise a location until our specialist confirms it.”

That was the kind of answer I wanted. I needed people who would tell me what was possible rather than agree with everything I said just to secure a contract.

After nearly two hours, we moved to the other properties. The second needed perimeter and electrical improvements; at the third, I checked the access road and storage spaces. Each fallback had to function on its own. Once the rogues spread, main roads could quickly fill with abandoned cars and desperate crowds.

By late afternoon, all three inspections were complete. I was exhausted, but for the first time since my rebirth, I had something more solid than a list of worries. The plans were becoming real. Claire confirmed that the teams would begin coordinating the work immediately, and I exchanged contact details with the site supervisors.

I hoped to have the properties ready for the next stage within three weeks. As I returned to my car, my body ached from hours of walking and questioning, but I felt I was finally moving ahead of the disaster instead of running from it.

I started the engine and began the long drive home.

---

Night had settled over the road by the time I left the last busy stretch behind.

Claire had sent a message confirming the next day’s schedule. I glanced at it at a traffic light, then placed the phone facedown. Nana was safe with me, and the properties were finally moving toward readiness. I still needed supplies, transportation, and trusted people to help protect us. One step at a time.

I drove past a row of closed shops, my headlights illuminating the quiet road ahead. Most businesses had shut for the night, and only a few vehicles remained on the street.

Then something moved near the roadside. At first, I thought it was a shadow cast by a passing vehicle. I eased my foot off the accelerator, and my headlights swept across a figure standing beside an old bus stop.

My hands tightened around the steering wheel. I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. The figure stood partly beneath the shelter’s broken roof, its face hidden in the darkness. Yet something about its small frame sent a shock straight through me.

My heart pounded. It couldn’t be. I slammed on the brakes, barely noticing as the car jerked to a stop. I stared through the windshield, unable to breathe or make sense of what I was seeing.

Then the figure shifted beneath the flickering streetlight, and I forgot how to move.