Chapter 2

Evelyn's POV

"Fifty thousand?"

Rachel couldn't hide her excitement. "Ms. Garcia, are you sure? That's only about sixty percent of its value."

"Sure." I stood on the roadside outside the Ironthorn Pack boundary, a gentle breeze ruffling my bangs.

"I only have one condition. Full payment in cash, and I need it fast."

"The location isn't great, but at that price..." Rachel paused. "I have a few buyers looking for older homes. If one of them bites, we could sign tomorrow."

Faster than I expected.

In my previous life, this dilapidated house had been flooded during a Category 5 hurricane. The walls were ruined, and all the furniture was destroyed.

Hans and Tamara didn't even leave me dry clothes; they moved into the pack's high ground tents.

Thinking about it, I hung up the phone and hailed a taxi.

"Skyline Vista in South Miami, please."

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

A young girl with a suitcase and an old coat, clearly not someone headed to a fancy community like this.

I didn't explain.

Skyline Vista was one of the highest communities in South Miami.

After the last hurricane, most of the city had become a sea, but the higher floors here remained intact.

When I passed by three years into the apocalypse, a few survivors still lived there, collecting rainwater and growing vegetables on the rooftops.

Now I would be a tenant here.

Jordan Blake, the receptionist at the leasing office, gave me the same skeptical look as the driver. But when I pulled out my debit card and paid the deposit and three months' rent upfront, her attitude changed immediately.

"Apartment 1802. Eighteenth floor." Jordan handed me the key. Her tone was much warmer now. "The elevator's on your left. Do you need help with your bag?"

"No."

I carried my suitcase into the elevator and pressed the button for the 18th floor.

Only then did I realize how sweaty my hand was gripping the key.

Not nervousness, but excitement.

Pushing open the door to apartment 1802, I stepped into a standard two-bedroom with white walls and hardwood floors. Basic furniture was in place.

The balcony faced south, offering a wide view of Miami's skyline.

I walked out onto the balcony and looked down. Cars below moved like ants on the road, people going about their business—some heading to work, others shopping at the market.

No one knew that three days later, this city would be underwater.

I pulled out my debit card. It held $200,000—the entire savings I'd accumulated over a decade.

I was an orphan, though raised by the Ironthorn Pack. Despite being part of their orphanage, there were constant power struggles behind closed doors.

This insecurity led me to take on various jobs as a tutor, cleaner, and even helping with homework. My goal had been to save enough for a home of my own.

Now it was my starting capital.

I opened my address book and found Dorian's name—pharmaceutical sales rep. We grew up together in the orphanage.

In my previous life, he died delivering medicine. In this life, I hoped he would survive.

[Big client. Rush order. I need it tonight. Give me your best price.]

I sent him a three-page list: antibiotics, fever reducers, anti-inflammatory drugs, clotting medicine, vitamins, medical supplies, and even antivenom.

Werewolves had powerful healing abilities, but even they couldn't escape a disaster this severe. Medicine was essential.

Five minutes later, my phone rang. "Evelyn, what kind of order is this? Is your client heading into the A****n?"

"Don't ask. I sent you fifty grand through Zelle. We'll settle the difference later."

Hanging up, I grabbed my keys and headed out.

Passing by the entrance, my gaze fell on a pair of limited edition Air Jordans on the shoe rack. My steps paused.

Over $1,200.

I had stood in line all night to buy those shoes for Hans, but I couldn't bring myself to replace my old ones.

In my previous life, he took my shoes without a word.

The next day, he wanted my moonstone pendant back.

I stared at the shoebox for three seconds before picking it up and walking out. The box slipped from my hand with a loud thud into the trash can at the end of the hallway.

If only I had known. I wouldn't have given it to him even if they had paid me.

All classes and tutoring sessions were canceled for the afternoon.

I sent a message to the parents: "Sorry, I've suddenly developed acute pneumonia and am hospitalized. I won't be able to continue tutoring this month. Please settle the fees."

They weren't short on money. Six hundred dollars arrived within minutes, and one parent even added an extra fifty as a goodwill gesture.

After collecting the transfers, I added another reminder, "A Category 5 hurricane is headed our way. Stock up on food, medicine, water purification tablets, and chargers. Better safe than sorry."

Most just replied with a simple "Thanks," but no one took it seriously.

Three days later, they would remember, but that was their problem.

Returning to my apartment, I locked the door behind me and clutched the moonstone pendant, focusing my mind.

White light flashed before me, and I stood once more inside the 860-square-foot space.

The living room held a floating cold-white timer: [01:56:13].

I set a cup of hot water on the floor and exited the space.

Ten minutes later, I reentered to find the water still steaming.

I tested it several times. Time stopped inside when no one was there, so stored items never changed. The timer only moved when a person entered.

Just as I stepped out, Rachel called. She could barely contain her excitement. "Ms. Garcia, we have a cash buyer. The contract's ready. How soon can you get here?"

"I'm on my way. One more thing. Two people are staying in the house, and they may refuse to leave. Once the sale closes, they're your problem."

"Got it."

Hanging up, a small smile curved my lips.

'Hans, Tamara, I hope you like my gift.'