4. Chapter 4.

I sprinted down the middle of the ruined street, rushing back toward the convenience store even though the Red Hour was only thirty minutes away.

Terrified refugees were scrambling in the opposite direction toward the warehouse shelter, but I pushed past them, running as fast as my lungs would allow.

I couldn't let anything happen to those kids. I knew what I was, a coward who had frozen and watched his own family die when the world fell apart. But seeing that fourteen-year-old girl drag her little brother through the dirt with death only inches away had shattered something inside me. It forced me to realize what a failure I had been. In a desperate attempt to redeem myself, I had rushed out to save them, completely forgetting that I had walked out today looking for a place to die.

By the time I slid through the glass doors of the convenience store, there were only ten minutes left.

My mind raced. I couldn't even remember the exact name of the cream Rosella wanted; I had walked away from her shelter a week ago seeking an end to my misery. I had been too terrified to end my own life, trapped between wanting to die and desperately clinging to survival.

I frantically searched the dusty cosmetics aisle. The shelves were still packed with bottles and jars, nobody in this ruined world cared about skincare except Madam Rosella. I hated this place, I hated her, and I hated the day I ever set foot in this town.

“Face mask... face serum... acne cream... eye cream... shit, which one is it?!”

Panic clawed at my throat. I ran a hand through my messy hair and glanced down at my watch. Five minutes left. Five minutes before those kids were thrown to the slaughter.

‘Why did I take this on?’ I asked myself, my hands trembling as I knocked jars off the shelf. ‘I don't even know those kids. I’m not connected to them. They can’t fix this broken world.’

Panic seized my chest so violently that my knees buckled, bringing me to the floor. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird as I crawled through the scattered bottles.

If I don't calm down, I’m dead.

I squeezed my eyes shut and dragged a sharp, shaky breath into my lungs. “Relax... relax, Adrian. Relax.”

That was when my boot nudged something under a low shelf. A small pink plastic bottle rolled into the light. I snatched it up, but it was weightless, completely empty, its cap missing.

Rage flared in my chest as the truth hit me.

It’s a trap.

She already had her men scavenge these creams for her. She had sent me on a wild-goose chase just to settle a petty grudge from a week ago, knowing full well it would get me killed.

I ground my teeth together, grabbed a heavy bottle of liquid soap from a lower shelf, and squeezed the thick gel into the empty pink container until it was full.

I checked my watch again. One minute left.

Reaching the warehouse from here normally took ten minutes on foot. But if I moved fast enough, if I pushed myself past every limit, maybe, just maybe, I could make it.

I took off through the shattered store doors like a bullet.

Thud... thud...

The ground shuddered. The heavy, rhythmic vibration of the Red Hour echoed down the avenue. I dug my heels into the asphalt and lengthened my stride. Before the world ended, I was a 32-year-old track and running coach. Sprinting was the one thing my body still remembered how to do.

I rounded the corner, and my stomach dropped. Farther down the block, crimson humanoid figures glided into view, moving with horrifying speed.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath.

Once they locked onto a target, they never stopped. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few of the red garments fluttering toward the warehouse, but fortunately, their attention was currently fixed on a group of fleeing scavengers.

Clash... clash!

The terrifying sound of heavy blades slicing through the air echoed behind me. I didn't dare turn my head. I focused every ounce of energy on the road ahead.

Finally, the looming structure of the Red Shelter appeared through the haze. But my relief turned to pure horror when I saw the entrance, Elara and Noah were being dragged outside into the open, inches from death.

“Stop!” I roared, but the wind whipped my voice away. They couldn't hear me.

I was closing the distance, twenty yards away... ten yards...

Suddenly, a searing, white-hot pain shot through my leg, a torn muscle or a deep cramp from the sudden exertion. A gasp of agony tore from my throat, but I couldn't slow down. It was either endure the pain or die.

Clash!

The sound of a blade swinging echoed right behind my neck, too close, far too close.

“I must make it!” I screamed to myself.

With the last burst of strength in my body, I launched myself forward, diving through the air toward the shelter door.