Another swipe of her arm, another room that forgot it had ever been full.

Sera didn’t stop to admire the trick of it.

One shelf of candles, two crates of blankets, the bin of spare batteries—there, then not there—her suite upstairs accepting each piece without a sound.

Luci trotted at her heel, his nails whispering against the wooden floors, his ears up and working like little satellites that never slept.

The fire in the living room kept its low orange breath.

Lachlan was sprawled on the nearest couch, one arm over his eyes, his mouth open in a soft, ridiculous snore he would deny in the morning.

Elias had folded himself into the armchair across from him, his notes scattered on the rug like fallen leaves, pen still clipped to his fingers as if work might follow him into sleep.

Alexei owned the second couch the way only he could—boots kicked off in two different directions, one leg draped over the armrest, an easy sprawl that looked like arrogance and read as survival.

Zubair had taken the chair nearest the door, chin tucked to his chest, shoulders relaxed but ready, the posture of a guard dog who finally trusted the fence for a few hours.

All of them together. All of them in one room by choice. It made the tower feel like a held breath finally released. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

An now, Noah slept on the floor in front of the fireplace, in the middle of the guys like he always belonged there.

It wasn’t trust, exactly so much as hope wearing a familiar coat.

He had smiled the right amount, spoken the right amount, looked harmless the right amount. It had been enough for a night.

Sera moved anyway.

Barefoot. Silent. No clatter. No tap. No apology.

She crossed the living room with Luci a shadow at her ankle.

The pup pressed close when she passed Noah’s sleeping bag, then peeled away with a low huff, as if he had given up warning the stupid human.

She did not touch the kitchen. That would have been too obvious.

Zubair’s morning inventory would pick up a single can of tomatoes gone astray. She respected his systems and used them like cover. Not to mention, Noah would assume that they had some kind of supply.

Everything else in the shared space?

Well, that was fair game.

She eased the hall closet open with the curve of a finger. Neat columns of flour, rice, sugar, salt stared back, labels faced forward in Zubair’s blocky script.

He had stacked them like soldiers. She took them like weather—nothing personal, only unavoidable.

Gone.

A small rush of cold air filled the space the weight had occupied, the way a body’s absence pulls the blanket down.

Dust blinked in the thin light. Luci sneezed and blinked back, solemn as a priest.

She moved to the laundry room where winter coats hung by size and use.

Parkas in dark colors. Spare gloves. A basket of wool socks Lachlan swore he would darn one day. Hammers and axes lined the wall near the utility sink, heads oiled, handles wrapped with tape where time had chewed at them. Boxes of nails, screws, a coil of new wire. A bucket of fuel canisters under a folded tarp.

All of it was gone in the blink of an eye.

Not dragged away. Not lugged out of the house. Vanished as cleanly as a thought swallowed before it becomes a word.

Back through the living room.

Luci slipped under the end table to avoid Alexei’s lazy sprawl. Alexei murmured something in his native language, a smile curving his mouth even in sleep. He rolled to his side, the couch groaning once, then quiet again.

Sera waited with the patience of ice. When his breathing settled, she moved on.

Up the back stairs to the greenhouse.

Warmth breathed against her face when she opened the door. Humid. Green. Bees slept under their wooden lid, the sound a tiny engine at the edge of hearing. Rows of herbs stood at attention in long planters—rosemary, mint, basil saved from the last good week of sun.

Buckets held potatoes layered in straw, carrots with their greens clipped clean, onions that would outlast the rest. Grow lights hummed a soft white. The room carried a memory of summer no one else in the city could afford.

She swept it once with her eyes, counted without touching, then blinked it out of the world.

Silence fell like a blanket dropped from a height. The hum stopped. The warmth ran out the door and down the hall like a thief.

She stood in a big, empty rectangle and watched her breath fog for the first time in that room since the fans had been installed. Luci sniffed the air hard enough to wrinkle his nose, sneezed again, then looked up at her for confirmation.

Good job.

Now... there was still more work to do.

She denied the urge to look back at what she had just hoarded. She would check upstairs when the building slept deeper.

Next, the little storage nook off the stairwell where Lachlan kept climbing gear and extra rope and a shameful number of fleece hats.

Gone.

The plastic tote of candles she’d found in a mailroom.

Gone.

The box of spare lighters, the stack of water filters, the unopened pack of headlamps.

Gone.

The closet where extra blankets lined a shelf like thick books.

Gone.

The drawer with hand warmers.

Gone.

She left the small first aid kits in plain sight. Elias would notice their absence before dawn. Let the tower keep its appearance of preparedness. Let the men wake into a world that still looked safe. Let Zubair’s lists match the kitchen shelves.

She would not trip the alarm in him she counted on when she slept.

The building groaned once, long and low, settling its bones as the wind pushed against it.

Somewhere above the penthouse a loose panel tapped a lazy beat. The ice outside breathed like a sleeping animal.

She returned to the living room to test the weight of the world again.

Lachlan snored once, soft. Elias shifted, his hand tightening on the armrest and loosening again. Alexei’s lashes fluttered without opening. Zubair’s shoulders rose and fell with the slow measure of a man who had taught his body to rest in armor.

Still safe.

She didn’t even bother to look over at Noah again. He didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

Down another hall was the old conference room had become a catchall for board games, blankets, and the stray things no one could find a category for.

Everything that could go unnoticed unless someone was searching for that specific thing was gone.

A sound below, soft as a sigh through teeth. She stilled. Luci stilled with her, the fur along his spine lifting like a slow wave. The tower held its breath.

A radiator hissed somewhere on the lower floor. Water moved through old pipes with a tired clank, then surrendered.

Not footsteps.

Not Noah.

But still not safe.

She moved again.

She didn’t know how Noah knew that they were there. She didn’t know why he showed up when he did. But if she didn’t trust him before the end of the world, then she definitely didn’t trust him now.

And she wasn’t giving him the chance to challenge them for their supplies.