Chapter 2

The memory of my father' s face, pressed against the bunker' s thick window in that other life, haunted me.

His eyes, wide with disbelief and then a terrible, broken understanding. My mother, screaming Ethan' s name until her voice was raw. Me, pounding on the steel door until my knuckles were bloody and splintered, the cold of the metal seeping into my bones.

Ethan had just watched us. He ate a can of peaches, our favorite brand, the ones Mom had stocked for him. He made a show of it, slowly lifting each slice to his mouth while we begged.

The memory wasn't a dream. It was a brand, burned into my soul. It fueled every swing of the hammer, every calculation I made.

This time, there would be no begging.

I showed my dad the contract. He was a legend in the prepper community, a man who could build a fallout shelter with his eyes closed but couldn' t spot a snake in his own house.

"Molly, this is a huge project," he said, his brow furrowed with concern. "All our resources, tied up for one guy. And a loan against his collateral? It's risky."

"I know, Dad," I said, my voice softer than I felt. "But he's offering the ranch land. If he defaults, we get everything. The land, the bunker, everything on it. It' s iron-clad."

My dad, a man who believed in contracts and handshakes, eventually nodded. "Alright. If you think it's the right move."

He didn' t know the half of it. He didn' t know this wasn't about business. It was about survival. It was about justice.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I sat in my childhood bedroom, the scent of cedar and gun oil a familiar comfort. I looked at the picture on my nightstand. Me and Ethan, at the county fair, him with a goofy grin and a giant stuffed bear he' d won for me.

I picked it up, my thumb tracing his smiling face.

The man in that picture never existed. He was a mask. The real Ethan was the one I heard in my head, the one who left my family to die.

I felt a cold rage settle deep in my gut. It wasn't hot and explosive. It was patient. It was methodical.

He took everything from us. Our money, our hope, our lives.

This time, I would take it all back. With interest.

I put the picture frame face down and went to my computer. I started making a list. Not just of bunker supplies, but of everything else. Seeds. Medical textbooks. Tools. Spare parts. Everything a new world would require.

My revenge wouldn't just be taking the bunker. It would be building a future he could never be a part of.