When they heard that Ethan might have medicine, Monica and Zack's eyes lit up with hope.
People on the brink of death would clutch at any straw to survive.
Zack, sweating from pain, struggled to speak. "Is that true? He… he really has antibiotics?"
Monica glared at Claire. "You better not be lying. Because of you, several of us are already gravely wounded."
Even just hearing Ethan's name again sent a shiver down Monica's spine.
Claire nodded quickly. "It was about a month ago. That's when Ethan started acting... different. He began stockpiling supplies—boxes and boxes delivered every day."
"I saw a pharmaceutical truck once, pulling into the neighborhood. Ethan went out to receive it. They carried two huge crates into his apartment. There's no way they weren't filled with medical supplies!"
Dr. Chloe, standing nearby, also nodded. "Antibiotics aren't that rare. If he truly prepared in advance for this catastrophe, it's likely he stocked up on a lot of them."
Zack's eyes burned with desperation. His voice turned frantic. "Then go! Go ask him for them! He's the one who caused my injury. He owes me!"
Monica bit her lip, torn. "But after what just happened, do you really think he'd help us? He probably hates us now."
Gary, pale and trembling on the sofa, groaned in pain. "It hurts… I feel like I'm dying…"
"Do something! Someone go beg Ethan! Please… save us!"
Claire added, "We didn't even hurt him! We planned to leave him some food after taking over the apartment!"
"He's the one who went too far! He's the one who tried to kill us!"
Dr. Chloe glanced at them, her face unreadable, but her eyes betrayed her disbelief. She now had a clear picture of what had transpired, and it left her unimpressed.
Still, this wasn't her fight.
She opened her medical kit and started bandaging wounds, trying to stem the bleeding.
But her supplies were running low.
Everything she'd brought from home was for emergencies, and over the past few days, she'd helped multiple injured neighbors. Now she was nearly empty.
If Monica's group couldn't secure medicine, all she could do was remove the arrows and wrap the wounds—nothing more.
At best… she could help them die with a little less pain.
And yet, they were still talking like they were in the right.
They didn't feel guilty. Not really.
To them, survival justified everything.
If Ethan had more resources than them, then he should share. That was the logic they clung to.
Monica stood silent for a while before finally pointing at Claire. "This is your mess. You're going to fix it."
"Ethan used to have a thing for you. If anyone has a shot at convincing him, it's you."
Zack and Gary, barely conscious, mumbled their agreement.
None of this would've happened if Claire hadn't spilled the details about Ethan's safehouse, swearing it would be easy to break into.
Peter looked uneasy but nodded slowly. The pain in his arm and the threat of death had made him see reason.
"Claire… please. We're all in this together. We need you. Only you can do this."
Claire's face twisted in anguish.
She didn't want to go. Not after what Ethan had done to humiliate her.
But what choice did she have?
If it weren't for her connection with Peter, Monica's group wouldn't have let her join them. She had no combat skills, no medical knowledge—nothing of real value.
In this new world, a pretty face and a sweet voice didn't count for much. Without skills, women like her were just disposable.
Dr. Chloe picked up a scalpel.
Conditions were terrible. Sterilization was a joke. Even alcohol froze solid in these temperatures.
But with no antibiotics available, sterilizing didn't matter anyway.
She handed Zack a rag. "Bite down on this."
Then she went to work on removing the first arrow.
Within seconds, Zack's screams filled the apartment—shrill, guttural, animalistic.
Everyone flinched.
Claire's legs trembled.
With everyone's eyes on her, she finally picked up her phone and tapped on Ethan's contact.
Ring. Ring.
Inside Ethan's apartment, he was cooking lunch. Oddly enough, despite having just killed a man for the first time, he felt no panic.
No guilt.
Only satisfaction.
A predator's satisfaction.
That told him everything he needed to know—he was built to survive in this world.
When he saw Claire's name on the caller ID, he chuckled.
"Oh? After I nearly wiped them out, she's calling already? That was fast."
He answered without hesitation, putting the call on speaker as he flipped a steak in the pan.
"Hello? Can I help you?" Ethan's voice was soft. Gentle.
Too gentle.
Like a snake pretending to be harmless.
Claire's voice was shaky on the other end. She was using speakerphone too—everyone in the apartment could hear.
"Ethan… L-Lu Tao's dead. Zack and the others… they're dying. You… you shot them… Please… please, help us…"
She was sobbing, trying to play the pitiful damsel.
Ethan's tone didn't change.
"Oh? They're dying? Well, that's life, isn't it? Sooner or later, everyone dies."
His knife scraped against the cutting board as he leaned closer to the mic.
"Did you really think you'd survive this snowstorm?"
The room fell dead silent.
His words struck at their deepest fears.
Snow had sealed the city.
Their building had become an island—cut off from the world.
Even if they didn't get killed by gangs, they'd eventually freeze or starve to death.
Claire's voice cracked. "Ethan… I know I hurt you… I shouldn't have rejected you before… But I've changed, okay?"
"I'm sorry… Please… forgive me…"