CHAPTER 1

Violet's eyes snapped open, and the scream that had been clawing its way up her throat died in a choked gasp.

Her chest heaved and her lungs burned. Every breath felt like dragging broken glass through her windpipe.

The ceiling above her was white, clean and unnmarred by blood splatter, smoke damage or the scratches of desperate, dying fingers.

Her hands flew to her throat, fingers scrambling over smooth and unbroken skin. There were no bite marks, no torn flesh and no warm blood pulsing between her fingers as her life drained away on cold concrete.

She sat up so fast the room spun. Sweat plastered her short black hair to her forehead and neck. Her expensive silk pajamas clung to her trembling body.

She looked down at her arms. They were pale and whole with no single scratch.

What in the world was going on? Why was she unscarred when she clearly remembered teeth sinking into her shoulder while her bones had crunched.

She remebered cold spreading through her veins as she bled out on the floor after she had been thrown off the balcony.

Violet remembered Harrison's face disappearing behind the locked glass door with Alicia's hand on his shoulder and that sickening smile on her face.

"No," Violet whispered, her voice cracking. "No, no, no."

She threw off the blankets and stumbled out of bed. Her legs nearly gave out but they felt too steady and not at all like the broken, exhausted limbs that had failed her in those final moments.

She caught herself on the nightstand, gasping. The room was dark except for the city lights filtering through the windows.

She knew this room. The grey walls and the minimalist furniture. The empty side of the closet where Harrison's clothes should have been if they actually shared a bedroom like a real married couple.

Where the hell was her phone?

Violet's hands shook as she grabbed it from the nightstand, nearly dropping it twice before she managed to unlock the screen.

The date glowed up at her. March 3rd, 2027, 2:47 AM.

March 3rd. Three weeks before Project Lazarus broke containment and the world ended. Three weeks before Harrison and Alicia threw her down the balcony locked her out to die.

The phone slipped from her fingers and hit the carpet with a muffled thump.

"I'm alive," She breathed, then louder, her voice rising into hysteria. "I'm really alive."

But how? How was this possible?

It had to be a dream. A horrible nightmare brought on by stress and too many late nights in the lab. She had been working on Project Lazarus for months, watching it become more unstable with every test. Maybe her subconscious had finally snapped.

But it hadn't felt like a dream. Dreams didn't have that much detail. She could still taste the copper of blood in her mouth and still feel the way her body had gone numb from the cold.

She could still see that figure running toward her through the smoke, a hand reaching and a voice shouting her name.

Violet pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to stop the memories, but they kept coming in fragments of horror she couldn't piece together.

The thought should have sounded insane, but the date on her phone didn't lie, and her body which was whole, healthy and alive didn't lie either.

If this was real, if she really had been given a second chance, then she had three weeks to stop the outbreak and convince anyone that Project Lazarus needed to be shut down before it killed everyone.

She had to talk to Harrison. Violet grabbed a robe from the back of her door and stumbled into the hallway. The penthouse was silent except for the hum of the heating system.

She moved down the corridor toward the master bedroom which was her husband's bedroom. The one she had been allowed into exactly four times in three years of marriage, and never when he was actually in it.

She didn't even bother knocking. The door slammed open, and Harrison jerked around from where he stood by his walk-in closet, one hand holding a silk tie.

"What the hell, Violet?" He snapped.

He looked so normal. He had perfectly styled blonde hair with icy blue eyes sharp with annoyance, wearing tailored slacks and a crisp white shirt.

Looking at him and remebering that he killed her in cold blood made her want to scream.

"Harrison," Violet said, her voice coming out shaky. She stepped slowly into the room. "Harrison, please, you have to listen to me."

"It's three in the morning." He turned back to the mirror, looping the tie around his neck efficiently. "I have an early investor meeting. Whatever this is can wait."

"It can't wait. You have to cancel Project Lazarus right now. Please!"

Harrison's hands stilled, then he let out a sharp, irritated sigh. "We've discussed this already."

"I know we have, but you don't understand…"

"No, you don't understand," He interrupted, his tone cold and clipped. "That project is worth billions. We're three weeks away from the biggest presentation of my career. I'm not canceling anything."

"It's unstable," Violet moved closer, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "The virus rewrites living cells in ways we can't control. If it gets out…"

"It won't get out. We have protocols."

"The protocols aren't enough!" Her voice cracked, desperation bleeding through every word. "Harrison, I'm begging you. Shut it down before it's too late."

He finished with his tie and turned to face her fully, his expression a mixture of annoyance and disdain.

"Are you seriously doing this again? I thought we were past your little anxiety spiral about the project."

"This is more than anxiety," Violet said, shaking her head so hard her vision blurred. "This is serious!"

Harrison's eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at her like she was something unpleasant he'd stepped in. "You look like hell. Did you even sleep?"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is…"

"Go back to bed, Violet."

"No," She closed the distance between them and grabbed his arm. His muscles tensed under her grip, and she saw disgust and discomfort flicker across his face, but at that moment, she didn't care.

"Harrison, please. I know what's going to happen."

"Let go of me." He said coldly.

"The virus is going to break containment," She continued, words tumbling out faster now.

"In three weeks, it's going to spread through the entire lab and then the city and the world. People are going to die. Everyone is going to die unless we stop it now!"

Harrison stared at her, then, slowly, he pulled his arm free from her grasp like he was extracting himself from something contaminated. "You've lost your damn mind."

"I haven't. I've seen it. I've lived through it."

"Lived through it?" He repeated, his voice dripping with mockery. "You've lived through an event that hasn't happened yet? Do you hear yourself?"

"I know how it sounds, but I'm telling you the truth!" Violet's voice broke. "I think... I think I've been reborn. I died, Harrison. I died, and somehow I woke up here, three weeks in the past. I've been given a second chance to stop this."

For a long moment, Harrison said nothing. He just looked at her with those cold blue eyes, and then he started to laugh.

It was a cruel sound and it instantly made her feel small.

"Reborn?!" He said, still laughing. "You think you've been reborn, like some kind of fantasy novel protagonist?"

"Harrison!"

"You're insane."

Violet flinched, but she forced herself to keep talking. "I'm not. I know what I saw. The zombies, the outbreak, the way it all fell apart…"

"Zombies!" Harrison repeated, his laughter dying into something harder and meaner. "Now it's zombies. This is what I get for marrying someone who spends all day in a lab. You've completely detached from reality."

"I'm telling you the truth…"

"Enough!" Harrison's voice cut through hers sharlpy. He stepped closer, towering over her, his face twisted with anger and disgust.

"I don't know what kind of breakdown you're having, but I won't let you jeopardize everything I've built with your hysterics."

"This isn't about your career," Violet said, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. "I just want us to survive. People could really die…"

"If you speak one more word of this nonsense," Harrison said, his voice soft and dangerous, "I will have you committed to a psychiatric facility permanently. Do you understand me?"

Violet's breath caught in her throat. He meant it. She could see it in his eyes and in the hard set of his jaw.

He would do it. He would lock her away, throw away the key, and no one would question him because she was his secret wife, the woman no one knew existed, and the world would end anyway.

"Do you understand me, Violet?" Harrison repeated, each word deliberate and threatening.

She stood there, trembling, staring at the man she had once loved enough to marry, and realized that he would never believe her.

He would never help her, and in three weeks, he toss her off the balcony, lock her out and let her die again.