The Intentions of the Other Buildings

As Ethan Cross sat there muttering to himself, Dr. Chloe could barely suppress the chill crawling up her spine.

In this frozen hell, no one else in Crestview Heights knew that they were all dancing on the edge of death.

Life or death—it all depended on Ethan's whim.

Chloe silently rejoiced.

Thank God I chose him.

Ethan turned toward her and patted the spot on the couch beside him.

"Come here."

She walked over and sat down, close.

The room was warm—almost cozy. Both of them were in loungewear, casual and comfortable.

Since Chloe hadn't brought any clothes of her own, Ethan had picked everything for her.

Naturally, the style was exactly to his liking.

Cute. Tight-fitting. Hugging her curves just enough to please his eye.

She looked like a Siamese cat curling beside him.

Ethan sipped from a glass of water, then said:

"Chloe, tell me—what do you think I should do?"

"Should I fight them all… or make peace?"

She blinked.

She'd expected something flirtatious—not a war council.

Still… he was asking for her opinion. That was rare. That meant trust.

She smiled faintly, but took the question seriously.

"If you go to war… can you really hold off all 29 buildings at once?"

Ethan leaned back, eyes half-lidded.

"Not a problem."

Total confidence.

Even if, deep down, he was maybe 0.01% unsure.

Sure, someone out there might have a bomb powerful enough to collapse the building.

But the odds of that happening?

Same as a satellite falling out of orbit and hitting him square in the face.

"I'll take my chances," he thought.

Chloe looked stunned.

She'd expected hesitation—not certainty.

After all, Ethan had never told her how many weapons he truly had.

Then again—he was Ethan Cross.

Nothing was off the table with him.

She took a deep breath and continued:

"And if you go for peace?"

"Doesn't that mean… you'll have to feed the entire complex?"

Ethan laughed.

"That's what they think."

"They toss out demands, wait for me to negotiate down."

"But don't be fooled. The so-called 'leaders' of these buildings? They only care about their inner circles."

His eyes grew sharp.

"Everyone else? Backup food. Expendable."

Chloe shivered slightly.

He wasn't wrong.

"Even so, feeding the whole complex—30 buildings? That's a nightmare."

Ethan nodded.

"Exactly."

"So I have two options."

"Option one: kill them all. Long, messy, dangerous. I'd have to leave the fortress, go out hunting…"

He rubbed his temples.

"There has to be a better way."

"A way to be done with them without killing them all."

Chloe thought carefully.

Ethan's arm slid around her waist, holding her close.

Still, she frowned in thought.

Eventually, she whispered:

"There's… one possibility. But it's not realistic."

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

"Let's hear it."

Chloe smiled playfully.

"Run."

"Just leave the complex. Start over somewhere else."

Ethan stared at her.

At first, he thought she was joking.

"Leave my fortress?"

"Are you out of your mind?"

But then a wild idea flashed through his brain.

What if I could take the fortress with me?

He'd tried storing large items in his dimensional space before—but only standalone objects.

His fortress was integrated into the building's frame.

He'd need to dismantle it piece by piece.

"Impossible. Not now."

"But maybe… someday?"

Chloe saw him spacing out.

She laughed.

"I was kidding. Don't tell me you're actually considering it."

Ethan smirked and gave her nose a playful pinch.

"Then what's your suggestion?"

Chloe pouted.

"I don't have one."

Ethan's gaze turned serious.

"Then we wait."

"Time's on our side."

"The advantage is mine."

His biggest concern was simple:

What if all 29 buildings teamed up?

But in this frozen apocalypse, that was easier said than done.

Crestview Heights had already splintered into factions.

Ethan, the warlord with guns and blood.

Terra Gang and the Wolf Pack—violent thugs claiming by force.

Celia Chen—manipulator, a cult-leader-in-disguise.

Jason Lee—civilized, structured, managing a fragile peace.

They were nothing alike.

And none of them trusted each other.

Cooperation? That was a joke.

Mutual suspicion would keep them from uniting.

For now.

Ethan was watching.

Listening.

Calculating.

And when the time came—he'd be ready.

"I've got weapons."

"I've got precision."

"And most of all… I've got control."