The heavy glass doors of the Vance Global Logistics corporate lobby shuddered under a frantic, desperate assault. Thud. Thud. Thud.I paused mid-stride across the polished white marble floor, my eyes shifting toward the entrance. Through the reinforced glass, a pathetic figure was pounding with both fists, his expensive designer suit hopelessly rumpled, his hair matted with sweat, and his face twisted into an expression of unmitigated terror.Garrett.In my past life, that face had represented a brother-in-law-to-be, a familiar fixture of my daily routine whom I had constantly bailed out of trouble. In the brutal reality of the frozen apocalypse, that same face had hovered over me in the kitchen while holding my legs down against the linoleum floor, watching with dead eyes as Clara carved strips of flesh from my arms to feed their survival."Let him in, Mr. Vance?" the head lobby security guard asked, stepping forward nervously. "Or should we call the police?""Let him in," I said, my

Sparks showered down in cascading golden sheets, hissing against the cold concrete floor as industrial welders fused the heavy inner blast doors of Sector Nine into place. The air inside the sprawling subterranean complex tasted of hot metal, ozone, and fresh concrete dust, an industrial perfume that signaled absolute preparation. In my past life, dying in the open air while freezing under a black, starless sky taught me one absolute truth: outer strength was nothing without a mountain of stone and steel at your back.I stood in the central command gallery of the bunker, my eyes tracking the real-time installation telemetry flashing across the master holographic console. Titan Shield Security crews were working in frantic, round-the-clock shifts under the shadow of heavy gold bullion payments. Thirty-inch reinforced titanium-steel blast doors were locked securely into the main tunnels, backed by triple-pane vacuum thermal insulation panels designed to trap body heat and repel absolute