CHAPTER THREE

My phone started ringing before I had finished writing my list. I glanced at the screen. It was Lily Lancaster. My best friend

In my first life, I would have answered immediately, afraid she might need something or that I had upset her. Now, seeing her name made bitterness rise in my throat so I let it ring.

The call ended, but my phone began vibrating again a few seconds later. I answered on the third call.

“Evie, what is wrong with you?” Her voice was so sharp that I pulled the phone away from my ear. No greeting, no question about how I was feeling, just an accusation, as though refusing to give her money were unforgivable.

“What are you talking about, Lily?”

“Ethan told me you refused to help with my business.”

“Yes. I did.”

“Why? She demanded. “You know how important this is to me. I've been working on it for months, and now that I've found an opportunity, you're acting like you don't care.”

I walked to the window, picturing her behind the shelter gates, her face streaked with tears and something disturbingly close to satisfaction.

‘You've been such a burden for far too long, Evie.’

Those words had followed me into death. Now she was calling because I wouldn't finance her dream.

“I'm not giving you the money, Lily.”

“But I'm your best friend!”

For years, that sentence had been enough to make me surrender. I had forgiven her when she hurt me, defended her when others criticized her, and given her whatever I could whenever she needed something.

“I know,” I replied quietly.

“Then why are you doing this? Did I offend you without realizing it?”

I nearly asked whether she remembered my pleas as the gates closed, or whether she had felt a moment of regret when she left me to die. But Lily knew nothing of that future. To her, this was an ordinary argument between friends. “No. I have other priorities.”

“Other priorities? Since when?”

“Since now.”

“You're being selfish.”

“Maybe. But it's my money, Lily. I don't owe you an explanation for what I choose to do with it.”

She fell silent, then tried a softer approach. “Evie, please. I was counting on you.”

For one moment, my old instinct returned. I wanted to comfort her and promise I would find another way to help. Then I remembered the gates closing while the people I loved watched from safety.

“I'm sorry, Lily. I can't help you.”

I ended the call. My hand trembled slightly. Betrayal hadn't erased years of affection in an instant, and a part of me still cared whether Lily was disappointed in me.

But caring about someone didn't mean I had to keep handing them the knife they used to hurt me.

I returned to my list: food, water, medicine, weapons, shelter. I had two months to prepare for the end of the world, and someone I had lost long before the apocalypse took everything else from me was waiting.

My grandmother.

My parents had died when I was young, leaving Nana as my only family. She had taken me in without hesitation and raised me with a love that never made me feel like an unwanted responsibility. She had been there for every school achievement, heartbreak, and childhood fever.

As I grew older, I promised myself I would make her proud. Yet I became so absorbed in my marriage and friendship with Lily that I started taking Nana's presence for granted.

During the first apocalypse, Nana lived in a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. When reports of violent attacks began appearing online, I urged her to leave her house and stay with us.

Ethan insisted we had enough problems of our own. He said we couldn't take responsibility for everyone, and I foolishly allowed his words to delay me.

I promised Nana I would return for her, but I never did. The roads grew dangerous, the city descended into chaos, and every attempt to reach her became harder. By the time I found someone who had seen her neighborhood, the houses had been ransacked and the survivors scattered. I never found her body.

For years, I wondered whether she had died alone, whether she had called my name, whether she had waited for me until there was no one left to wait for. Now I had a chance to see her again.

“I'm coming, Nana,” I whispered.

I grabbed my bag and hurried out.

---

The journey felt unreal. Cars moved through busy intersections, shops displayed colorful advertisements, and people complained about the wait outside a bakery.

I watched them through the window, remembering what these streets would look like in two months. Abandoned vehicles would block intersections, shop windows would be smashed, and people would fight over bottled water and canned food.

The infected would begin changing, their bodies twisting into monstrous, wolf-like forms. The werewolf rogues had sharp fangs and powerful claws that could tear through flesh and damage ordinary barriers. Their strength and heightened senses made hiding from them terrifyingly difficult. Some could scramble up walls or leap over obstacles that survivors had assumed would keep them safe.

When they began hunting through the streets, an ordinary locked door would offer little reassurance. I had to remember that when choosing our shelter.

Nana's house stood behind a low fence, its pale walls warmed by the afternoon sun. Flowerpots lined the front steps, and the curtains were drawn halfway across the living-room windows. Nothing had changed.

I stood at the gate, unable to move. During the apocalypse, I had imagined finding Nana alive countless times. In other dreams, I arrived too late. I had never imagined standing here again while the world was still intact.

I pushed open the gate and hurried to the front door.

“Coming!” a familiar voice called.

The lock clicked, and there she was. Nana stood before me in a simple house dress, her silver-streaked hair pulled into a loose bun. She looked a little smaller than I remembered, but her warm brown eyes were unchanged.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then she frowned. “Evie? What are you doing here, my child?”

I broke down and wrapped my arms around her, burying my face against her shoulder. She stiffened in surprise, then embraced me.

“Evie, what happened?” she asked, rubbing my back. “Why are you crying?”

I couldn't answer. I held her tighter, terrified that if I let go, I would wake up in the ruins again. Her arms were warm. I could feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing. She was alive. My Nana was really alive.

“I missed you,” I managed.

She drew back and brushed tears from my cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart. You saw me last week. Have you forgotten already?”

Last week? In my first life, I would have traded everything I owned to sit beside her one more time. Now she was gently scolding me for crying.

I laughed through my tears. “I know. I just wanted to see you.”

“Well, you could have called first. Come inside before the neighbors start thinking something terrible has happened.”

I followed her into the living room. Her favorite chair stood beside the window, a knitted blanket rested over its arm, and family photographs covered the shelf above the television.

One picture showed me as a little girl, missing a front tooth, sitting on her lap. I picked it up and ran my thumb over the frame. Nana had never made me feel that raising me had cost her the life she deserved. Yet in my first life, I had failed to protect her. This time, I wouldn't.

“Nana, I need you to do something for me.”

Her smile faded. “What is it?”

“I want you to come and stay with me.”

“Stay with you? You live with your husband. Is everything all right between you two?”

Ethan's face flashed through my mind, followed by the memory of the gates closing.

“No,” I admitted. “Not really.”

She led me to the sofa. “What happened?”

I couldn't tell her everything yet, but I needed her to understand why I was frightened.

“I have a bad feeling about the next few months. Something terrible is coming, and I don't want you to be alone when it happens.”

“What kind of terrible thing?”

“I can't explain it properly. But I need you to trust me. If I ask you to leave your house or stay away from certain places, please listen.”

Her brow furrowed. “Evie, you're frightening me.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just can't lose you.”

She took both my hands. “Whatever is troubling you, you don't have to carry it alone. If you need me to come and stay with you, I'll come. But promise you'll tell me what's happening when you're ready.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“All right,” she said, squeezing my hands. “I'll come home with you.”

“Really?”

“Of course, child. And perhaps your husband and I need to have a little talk.”

A watery laugh escaped me. “You don't have to do that.”

“I know. I want to.”

I leaned against her shoulder, allowing myself one brief moment of peace. In my first life, I had lost her without getting to say goodbye.

This time, she would come with me. I would make sure she was safe, even if I had to fight the whole world to do it.

---

By the time we arrived home, the sun was beginning to sink.

I helped Nana settle into the guest room, ignoring her insistence that she didn't want to be a burden. I wanted her close enough to check on whenever I needed to.

Once she was comfortable, I returned to my room and opened my banking application.

Ethan and I had been wealthy. We owned property, investments, and enough money to live comfortably. But wealth meant little when the world collapsed and you had nothing prepared.

In my first life, we believed we could obtain whatever we needed when the time came. I had also given Lily a substantial amount to launch her business. By the time supplies became scarce, we couldn't afford to replenish what we needed. This time, I would keep my money and use it to buy security and a chance to survive.

My first priority was finding land on the outskirts of the city, far enough from crowded urban centers to reduce exposure to the chaos, but not so isolated that transporting supplies became impossible.

I searched property listings. One large estate caught my attention. It had extensive grounds and enough open land for additional structures, although the existing house would need substantial reinforcement.

But one property wouldn't be enough. If the main base became compromised or rogues spread toward it, I needed somewhere else to go. I decided on three safe houses in three different states.

The first would be our primary fortress, where Nana and I could live and where I could eventually shelter people I trusted. It needed secure entrances, reinforced boundaries, storage, reliable water, backup electricity, and enough land to grow food.

The other two would be emergency fallback locations. They could be smaller, provided each could operate independently for a time.

Security would be my greatest concern. I had seen werewolf rogues climb over abandoned vehicles and scramble up surfaces that should have slowed them down. Their claws could grip rough walls, and their strength made ordinary fencing unreliable. A high gate would mean little if its materials could be ripped apart.

I needed more than an impressive-looking estate. The walls, gates, and vulnerable entry points would have to withstand creatures capable of tearing through weaker materials. I would need specialists who understood reinforced construction, heavy-duty metalwork, secure windows, and ways to prevent anything from climbing or forcing its way inside.

I couldn't build three enormous compounds at once. The primary fortress would receive most of my attention, while the other properties would be prepared in stages.

I checked the date again.

July 15, 2050.

Two months remained before the apocalypse. I couldn't afford to waste a single week.

I contacted a property consultant who had previously handled one of our investments and asked him to call me as soon as possible. Then I searched for developers and construction companies experienced in large residential projects.

I needed architects, engineers, and builders who could work quickly without cutting corners. I would present the project as a private estate requiring extensive security and emergency provisions. The truth behind it was something no one could know.

I made a preliminary list: acquire the main property, assess its structure, reinforce the perimeter, secure the entrances and windows, establish a reliable water source, and install backup electricity. After that would come storage, food production, and equipment to keep the compound functioning if public services failed.

My phone vibrated. The property consultant had replied, asking when I was available to discuss the project. I arranged a meeting for the following morning.

Next, I reviewed which funds I could access quickly. Land, construction, equipment, and supplies would consume money faster than I wanted, especially with three locations to prepare.

Still, I had an advantage I hadn't possessed in my first life. I knew what was coming. I could secure properties before panic sent prices soaring and arrange construction while workers were still available.

Once the bases were underway, I could begin stocking food, medicine, tools, and other necessities.

I opened my notes and typed a new heading.

PHASE ONE: SECURE THE BASE.

Underneath, I listed the immediate priorities: acquire the primary property, meet the developers, begin construction, secure the two backup locations, and arrange water, electricity, and storage. I stared at the list, calculating how much I could accomplish in the weeks ahead.

Then a sound drifted up from downstairs. The front door slammed shut. I froze as I looked up from my phone.

A man's voice followed, low and sharp, his annoyance unmistakable. “Evie! Where are you?”

Ethan.

My fingers tightened around my phone. Judging by his tone, it could only mean one thing.