My mind was in complete chaos, but I still rushed out instinctively to grab supplies.

The moment I reached the entrance, they were already there waiting.

Delilah, Everett Kingsley, and her brother, Brock Carrington.

Without a word, they lunged at me, tearing off my jacket and snatching the supplies from my hands.

"You’re built tough. You can handle the cold." Hooking her arm around Everett’s, she kicked me straight out the door.

The biting wind swallowed me whole. Half-naked, I could only watch as the three of them disappeared into the blizzard.

The cold drained my consciousness, little by little. My last thought before everything went dark was that if I could do it over again, I would never have stepped out of that warehouse.

"Declan! Are you even listening? Those cherries are way too sour!"

The exact same voice drilled into my head.

I jolted upright from my desk, gasping for air, my throat still burning with the phantom sting of freezing cold.

I looked around. I was back in the office.

On my phone screen, the call was still ongoing.

It was Delilah.

The calendar read 8:00 a.m. on the morning of the day I died.

Her impatient voice continued from the other end.

I cut her off. "Go to hell."

Then I hung up and blocked her.

I didn’t seal the warehouse immediately because there were still hundreds of employees and drivers in the compound.

I switched on the internal broadcast system.

"Emergency notice! We’ve received a confidential alert from higher authorities. There’s a highly contagious mutated flu outbreak in this area. All non-essential personnel must evacuate within one hour. I repeat, this is not a drill!"

Then I triggered the fire drill alarm recording. The piercing siren tore through the entire compound.

Workers dropped everything and rushed out.

I stood in the surveillance room, watching the crowd with cold detachment. Picking up the radio, I called Rhys Calder, the head of security.

"Lock down the entrance. Let everyone out. No one comes back in. In thirty minutes, I want every gate sealed. I don’t care who’s still inside."

I paused, then added, "Garrick’s on the second floor. Leave him alone."

Rhys and Garrick were both physically strong, single, and obedient. They were the most suitable allies I could pick.

Clang!

With one final thunderous crash, the massive alloy shutters slammed shut. Silence swallowed the warehouse.

I exhaled slowly, the air in my lungs carrying a faint metallic taste.

When I turned back, the backup locks were already in place.

Garrick still stood there, dazed, clearly not fully processing what had just happened.

"Stop standing around." I clapped my hands once, rubbing my temples.

For a moment, I thought things would finally settle.

A fortress.

Three men.

Simple. Controlled.

However, before that thought could fully form, a muffled cry came from the women’s restroom on the second floor, followed by frantic banging on the door.

"Help! Is anyone there? The door won’t budge..."

The three of us froze, then exchanged looks.

Rhys grabbed a baton and kicked the door open.

Inside, Tamsin Larson, a young intern from customer service was slumped on the floor. The moment she saw me, she scrambled forward and clutched my leg.

"Mr. Mercer! I’m sorry! I thought it was just a drill! My boyfriend is still outside waiting for me. Please let him in! He’ll freeze to death!" Her words tumbled out between sobs. "He has food in his car! He can help us!"

I looked down at her.

All I felt was irritation.

A perfect start was ruined in an instant by a lovestruck idiot.

I yanked my leg free from her grip without hesitation. "First, the doors are not opening again. Second, if you want to live, shut up and do as you’re told.

"And third," I added coldly, "don’t touch me again."

I turned and walked away without another glance.

Back in the office, I pointed out the window at the world now buried under frost and the bodies frozen solid like statues.

"Take a good look. The world’s changed. This is our fortress now. If you want to survive, follow my lead."

Rhys nodded immediately. "Got it."

Garrick followed, nodding hard.

I didn’t take them to open packages. Instead, I headed to the break room and dragged out everything edible I could find, laying it all on the table: half a box of instant noodles, a few bottles of water, an opened bag of crackers, and a couple of shriveled apples.

Garrick’s stomach growled. He stared at the meager pile, swallowing hard. "That’s it?"

"That’s everything we have right now." I spread the food out. "From today on, we ration. A pack of noodles and half a bottle of water per person, per day. No exceptions."

My gaze swept across them, finally landing on Tamsin. She looked at the mountain of unopened packages, then at the pitiful amount of food on the table. Her lips moved slightly, but she didn’t dare speak.

"Now’s not the time to stand around." I clapped once. "Move. Rhys, you’re with me—generator and diesel check.

"Garrick, head to the tool room. Grab every axe and pry bar you can find.

"Tamsin, seal every window on the second floor with cardboard and foam. Leave one viewing gap."

Night fell fast.

Once everything was done, I had them move into my office, the smallest space available. One heater was enough to keep it warm.

"Starting tonight, we all stay here. No one goes down to the first floor without my permission."

In the dead silence of the night, the crunch of dry noodles being crushed in Garrick’s hand sounded unnaturally loud.

After hesitating for a long time, he finally spoke in a low voice, "Boss, are there really no survivors out there?"

I didn’t even look up, still checking the fire axe in my hand.

"Thinking about that won’t help you. Figure out how to survive tomorrow."

…

By the third night, the temperature had dropped below -50°C. The faint red glow from the heater looked almost powerless.

The last pack of instant noodles was broken into four pieces and boiled into a thin, watery soup. We shared it.

Even the broth was licked clean.

Garrick rubbed his hands, already raw and red from the cold. The breath leaving his mouth turned instantly visible. He looked at me, his voice hoarse.

"Boss, I can’t take it anymore. At this rate, we won’t starve to death. We’ll freeze first."

Rhys said nothing, only pulling his thin work jacket tighter around himself.

I stood up.

We couldn’t wait any longer.

I looked at all three of them. "Starting now, in order to survive, we use what’s here."

I picked up a brand-new notebook and pen from my desk and handed them to Tamsin. "You’re recording everything. Every item we open: brand, quantity, and recipient information. All of it."

I met her eyes and added, "When this is over, Blackridge will compensate for everything."

That was the line I wouldn’t cross.

We were trying to survive, not loot.

Tamsin took the notebook. At the mention of compensation, she curled her lip slightly.

Garrick pried open a large cardboard box in a few quick motions.

"Shit!"

Inside was the latest PS5 console. He kicked the box in frustration. "What the hell is this good for right now?!"

Rhys picked a wooden crate and forced it open.

A cold, raw scent hit us immediately—premium Australian wagyu. Everyone’s eyes lit up for a second, then dimmed just as fast.

Garrick scratched his head. "How are we supposed to eat this? We don’t even have a pot."

I couldn’t let them keep guessing. I pointed at a box stamped with a food company logo. "Open that one."

Garrick sliced it open halfheartedly then froze. A second later, he burst out, shouting in excitement, "A stove! A portable stove!"

Soon, four steaming portions sat in front of us, fragrant and rich. It was the first hot meal we’d had since everything began.

After we finished, I stopped him before he could start tearing into more boxes. "Don’t act rashly."

I led them to a neatly stacked row of shelves. "The logistics area is divided into zones. This section handles polar expedition gear and outdoor brands. Search here."

As expected, we quickly uncovered brand-new down jackets, snow boots, sleeping bags, and professional camping cookware with gas canisters.

The wagyu problem was solved.

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was an old neighborhood group chat that I’d forgotten to exit.

Delilah's message popped up: [I'm freezing to death here! What the hell is this weather?! Are the property managers all dead?! The villa’s like an icebox! Whoever brings me a down jacket, I’ll pay you $10,000!]

I looked at the message, then took off my outerwear, leaving only a short-sleeved shirt. Standing in front of the pile of newly unpacked down jackets, I snapped a photo of myself eating meat, with the stack of winter gear clearly visible behind me.

A friend request from Delilah came through.

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I accepted it.

The video call came instantly. She was screaming the moment it connected.

"Where the hell are you?! Where did you get all those clothes?! Get them to me right now! I’m ordering you, did you hear me?!"

Her lips were purple from the cold, and her face pale. Wrapped in a thin blanket, she shivered violently inside the villa.

Right in front of her, I picked up an expensive down jacket and calmly wiped the dust off my shoes with it, then tossed it straight into the heater’s open flame.

"This thing," I said into the camera, "burns warmer than it wears."

Watching her face twist in fury, I smiled. In my last life, she had stripped me of my clothes and thrown me out into the cold without a second thought.

"You’re a grown man. You can handle the cold."

"You—"

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Tamsin. Her gaze flickered, and she muttered under her breath, "How can you just waste something like that..."

I hung up and didn’t bother responding.

That night, we all changed into new gear and climbed into thick sleeping bags.

Rhys used the new cookware to boil a big pot of rich beef soup.

Then I noticed that Tamsin wasn’t asleep. She was staring out through the narrow gap in the window, at the frozen, lifeless world outside.

I narrowed my eyes. In a world like this, people who couldn’t let go of their so-called kindness were liabilities.

On the fourth day, we gathered around the table, eating wagyu broth. The marbled beef swished through the broth before being dipped into premium gravy.

Grease glistened on Garrick’s lips as he ate.

"Boss, I’ve never had meat this good in my life. It's totally worth it," he said, grinning. "Even if I freeze to death after this, it’s worth it."