Betrayal

"You've got some moves for a little streamer," Cassius said, lighting up a cigarette. Maisie sat beside him, holding an ashtray, her expression defiant.

"Who's a 'little' streamer?" Maisie huffed. "I'm one of the top three streamers on the platform. I rake in six figures a month at minimum!"

"No wonder you called me a loser."

Maisie: "..."

Meanwhile, at Cole's place, six men were gathered, drinking beer in tense silence. The deaths of Baldy and Blondie had shaken their confidence. They thought they had total control of this building, but now it seemed there was a hidden threat lurking in the shadows.

Cole stood on the balcony, gazing down at the bodies below. His eyes narrowed. Judging by where the two had fallen, they must've been thrown off from either his floor or the one above.

"Mike, look into the people living above me. See if anyone hasn't checked in recently."

Mike, a thin man in his thirties with a rat-like face and sunken eyes—probably from overindulgence the past few nights—nodded and quickly got to work.

It didn't take long for him to come back with the results. "Cole, there are only two families upstairs who haven't reported in."

"Sixth floor—some woman named Angela, a flight attendant. Seventh floor—guy named Cassius."

A chubby man sitting nearby slapped his thigh. "Oh, that flight attendant? I ran into her in the elevator once. Total knockout—crazy good-looking, and her skin's flawless. She had this tall, rich boyfriend with her too."

"Could it be her boyfriend?"

Cole frowned. He had seen Angela's boyfriend before. That guy didn't seem like the type to pull something like this.

Then again, if it's not him... could it be the other guy? But if not them, then who else could it be? Or was he just overthinking things?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden ring of his phone. Seeing the caller ID, his frown deepened slightly. It was Mallory, the boss of the neighboring building, Tower 4.

Adjusting his glasses, Cole put on a practiced smile as he answered. "Mallory, up late tonight?"

"Same to you, Cole. I guess the gunshots made it hard for both of us to sleep," Mallory joked. He wasn't too worried since the chaos hadn't happened in his own building. For now, he felt safe.

Cole chuckled softly. "No need to trouble yourself, Mallory. I can handle it."

"Alright then," Mallory replied casually. "I was thinking of lending you a hand, but if you run into trouble, hit me up. I'd be more than happy to help."

"Appreciate the offer, but I've got something to take care of. Gotta go." Cole hung up before Mallory could respond, cursing under his breath. Like hell I'd let you get your hands on that gun.

Meanwhile, Mallory sighed and tossed his phone onto the couch.

A woman in her thirties, Mallory's girlfriend, lounged beside him. She had a touch of beauty to her and knew exactly how to keep his attention.

"Mallory," she said, her voice low and suggestive, "you've got to find a way to get that gun. With it, you'd be king of this whole complex. Hell, maybe even the surrounding buildings too."

Mallory's eyes gleamed at the thought. One building was never going to be enough for him—he wanted real power, control over everything within his reach.

"And another thing," the woman added. "My girls in the group chat were talking. There's a flight attendant and a streamer over in Tower 3—both absolute stunners. Look, I've got pictures."

She pulled out her phone and showed him photos of Angela and Maisie. Mallory's eyes sparkled with greed. His mind was made up. He grinned darkly.

"Tomorrow we'll call a meeting," he said with a chilling snarl. "We're going to prep and storm Tower 3. It's time to take over."

The woman beamed, knowing she'd played her cards right. "Mallory, I also prepared a little midnight snack for you."

"Oh?" Mallory raised an eyebrow.

"Bring it in," she called out.

A moment later, one of Mallory's men dragged a young girl into the room by her hair.

Scenes like this had become disturbingly common in the complex. The leaders who controlled resources also controlled life and death, forcing everyone else to bow their heads to survive.

Tower 3, Unit 603.

Angela stood in her living room, wearing a sleek black silk nightgown. She used a pair of scissors to cut open a water bottle, her tongue—normally pink and vibrant—now pale as she licked the bottle cap.

Mick emerged from the bedroom, his expression unreadable as he glanced at her from the doorway.

"I'm heading out," he said flatly.

Angela froze. "Where are you going?" she asked quickly, anxiety creeping into her voice. She didn't want to be left alone.

"Just out for a bit."

But he wouldn't elaborate. Angela rushed over, grabbing his sleeve. "You're going to see them, aren't you?"

"God, can you stop nagging?" Mick snapped, glaring at Angela. "If I don't go to them, who the hell am I supposed to go to? I traded my Porsche just to get a bottle of water and two pieces of bread! And you? You sit around doing nothing and enjoy the food I bring back!"

With that, he flung his arm, and Angela, weak from hunger, stumbled to the ground. Her face was ghostly pale.

Mick looked down at her, his gaze cold and distant. The woman he once adored had lost her beauty, and with it, his affection vanished.

"Let me be real with you," he said, his voice dripping with indifference. "I've made a deal with Cole. You go spend time with them once a day, and we'll survive."

Angela's eyes widened in shock. "You want me to be with those bastards?" she whispered, disbelief flooding her voice. How could he—her boyfriend—say something so vile?

"Or would you rather starve to death?" Mick shot back. "Would you let me starve to death? Didn't you once say you'd die for me? Well, I'm not even asking you to die—just to make a little sacrifice."

A wave of helplessness washed over Angela, paralyzing her.

"You should think about everything I did for you," Mick continued, his voice filled with a twisted sense of justification. "Designer bags, jewelry, fancy restaurants—do you think any of that was free? I paid for it all. Now it's your turn to pay me back."

Without waiting for a response, he stormed out the door, leaving Angela sprawled on the floor. He was off to negotiate a price with Cole, confident that Angela, the most beautiful woman in the building, would fetch a high value. Even though she was weak now, a few days of food and rest would restore her.

Angela lay still, listening as the door slammed shut. Despair filled her eyes. She knew what Cole and his gang were capable of. Any woman who fell into their hands suffered a fate worse than death.

Looking around the apartment that once felt like home, Angela was overwhelmed by a deep sense of revulsion. She couldn't stay here another second.

She opened the door and stepped outside. The fresh air hit her face, bringing a strange clarity. A bitter smile curled her lips as she glanced at the window by the stairwell. She had made up her mind.

I'd rather die than let those monsters touch me.

Angela moved toward the stairwell. As she climbed higher, she suddenly heard voices coming from the floor above.

Curious, she crept quietly up the stairs.

Then she saw him—Cassius.

Cassius and Maisie had also come out for some air. The two were leaning casually near the railing. Cassius noticed Angela immediately, her frail figure standing out in the dim stairwell lighting.

"Hey, good afternoon," Cassius greeted with a smirk, his tone light despite the grim circumstances.