Date Sortie Red Dead Redemption 2

Everything is ready on the day of my wedding. But the bride, Adella Marlowe, is nowhere to be seen. That's when she texts me on my phone. Apparently, as a national shooting champion, there's a last-minute competition that she has to attend right away, all consequences be damned. But the next day, I see a social media post uploaded by Raiden Chase, the newest recruit in Adella's team. In the photo, I see Adella with one foot on a dead wild boar while propping her gun with a proud smile on her face. The caption goes, "I'm so glad to have a wife who's also a national shooting champion! Now, Grandma won't have to worry about her corn fields getting attacked by wildlife!" As I stare at the post, I just smile and leave a comment. "As expected of the champion whose heart goes out to the normal folk!" Adella quickly calls me the next moment. "Delete your comment right now! Also, stop being all passive-aggressive around me! It's just a missed wedding; must you be so snide about it?" This isn't Adella's first time leaving me at the altar. It's been two years, and every time she ditches me at the altar, she always has an excuse to do so. I just hang up on Adella without saying a word. She's right, though. This is just a wedding, isn't it? I might as well call it off once and for all.

Scarlett brought Jake and his family, who fought tooth and nail to survive the disasters of extreme weather, only for her to be abandoned to her death by her own in-laws. But when she opens her eyes again, she’s back—60 days before the apocalypse hits. This time, Scarlett is determined to cut ties with her parasitic husband's family and do whatever it takes to survive on her own.

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

I could see the countdown above a person’s head when they had already decided to leave their partner. The day my father’s countdown hit zero, he slapped a lawyer’s letter on the breakfast table and walked out on my mother and me. The day my best friend’s countdown hit zero, she finally threw her parasite of a boyfriend out of her apartment and changed the locks before sunset. That was why I’d always been terrified of seeing a countdown above my fiancé, Lucian Bellandi. Luckily, for seven years by his side, the space above his head had stayed clean. Lucian was the youngest Don the Bellandi family had ever seen. He owned the docks, the casinos, and half the South Side’s dirty money, yet he saved every soft part of himself for me. Until last month, when he picked me up after a family auction. I looked up and saw blood-red numbers stabbing into my eyes. [702 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes.] Less than two years. My heart tightened like a cold hand had closed around it. I started searching for an answer like a woman losing her mind. Had I done something wrong? Then, during a blizzard by the lake, we ran into Mia Crane at the back entrance of the Bellandi Hotel. Lucian had just brought her into his charity foundation as a new assistant. Snow clung to her hair and lashes. She was shivering from head to toe, but her smile was bright and painfully innocent. Lucian pulled a black silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. His face was calm. There was nothing openly improper in the gesture. But in that exact second, the countdown above his head jumped. [327 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes.] More than three hundred days, gone. And I knew I had found the reason.

The moment we witness the last surviving child in the safehouse getting pinned to the wall by a zombie before having his guts torn out, all the men in the team break down mentally. "Captain, didn't you claim that Selene kept rambling nonsense because she had gone crazy out of fright toward the zombies? Isn't that why you reassured us to keep watch while you and Madeline watched the sunrise on the summit? "Why is it that my newborn has already gotten devoured by a zombie as soon as I return to the safehouse?" Quinton Morwood goes deathly pale at the accusation. My heart feels as though it's gotten torn into pieces as I stare at the tragedy. In my previous life, when the zombies attacked the safehouse, Quinton, who was the captain of the defence team, had taken the entire team with him just so he could watch the sunrise with Madeline Moore at the mountain summit. I did everything I could to summon everyone back to the base. That was how everyone's lives were spared from the zombie attack. But Madeline was pissed that she did't get to watch the sunrise, so she left the safezone angrily on her own. That was how she got grabbed by a zombie and eaten by a horde. By the time Quinton and his squad killed the entire horde, he just hugged Madeline's femur to his chest without saying a single word. On the day I gave birth to my baby, Quinton hacked my limbs off before throwing me into the roaming hordes of zombies. I could only watch as the zombies tore my flesh off my bones before Quinton saved me again by healing me. The cycle kept going on and on until I witnessed the last piece of flesh being torn off my body. "You're the one who killed Madeline, you wretched woman! Since you like competing with her that much, I'll make sure you'll die a worse death than hers!" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day the zombies are attacking the safezone.

When the Rogues besiege the town, I quickly grab my sister, Riven Vexmoor, and flee into the forest. By the time we stumble back into town in a sorry state, my fiance, Kael Ironfang, has already cornered the Rogues with his guards. The guard captain, Doren Sten, reports loudly, "Alpha Kael, two she-wolves in the pack are being torn apart. If we do everything we can, we should be able to save one of them." Kael gives the order without a moment's hesitation, "Save Riven first. She has been frail since young—she won't be able to hold on much longer." I freeze in place. Riven pushes past me and throws herself into Kael's arms, sobbing. "Kael, I'm right here. I'm fine." Kael holds her tightly, as if clutching a treasure he has recovered after losing it. "I thought I'd never see you again. Are you hurt? I'll have the healer examine you right away." From start to finish, he never once looks back at me. It isn't until a guard notices me and asks with concern, "Miss, are you alone? It's very dangerous here. Please find your family immediately." I look at my parents in the distance. They are huddled around Riven as Kael holds her, the three of them crying together. I give a bitter smile. "I have no family. I'm completely alone. By the way, isn't the Southern Border Patrol recruiting healers? If so, is there still time for me to apply?"