The villa looked like it had been pulled from a magazine ad and dropped into a war zone.
Vine-wrapped stone walls stood tall and defiant against the chaos outside. Every window was reinforced with one-way glass, and the perimeter fence crackled faintly with current, functional, but hidden beneath wild roses and crawling ivy. A beautiful trap, elegant and quietly dangerous.
Mira Zhao didn't lower her weapon until they reached the front gate.
"Don't like this," she muttered, eyes scanning every corner. "Too clean. Too perfect. Too... her."
"She did just save our asses," Ellis said, tone light but edged with wariness.
"She also knew we were there," Mira snapped. "And had a sniper rifle trained on that rooftop like she was expecting the ambush."
"Maybe she was," Adrian said, stepping past them. "And maybe that's the only reason any of us are still breathing."
Behind them, Bryce and Tom stumbled in with help, wounds hastily dressed. Julyah had worked with calm efficiency, administering morphine, tightening bandages, and issuing quiet instructions like someone who'd done it all a hundred times before. There was nothing hesitant about her. No fumbling. No panic.
Inside, the villa was colder than expected. Not in temperature, but in atmosphere.
Cool air drifted from an unseen vent. The floors were dark polished wood, scuffed just enough to prove someone lived here. The furniture was functional, modern, and deliberately sparse. There were solar panels on the roof, backup generators humming faintly somewhere below, and a wall-mounted tablet blinking with recent atmospheric scans. The kitchen was fully stocked. The medical bay even had a decontamination shower.
It felt... impossible.
"This isn't some scavenger's stash," Ellis murmured, pausing in front of a sealed cabinet packed with labeled supplies. "This place was prepped. Like she knew the world was going to end."
"Or helped it happen," Mira muttered under her breath.
"Enough," Adrian said.
At the far end of the hallway, Julyah stood silently, checking one of the perimeter monitors. Her braid was still perfectly in place, not a strand out of place. She hadn't spoken much since leading them in.
She hadn't needed to.
Adrian approached, quiet. "You said you were just passing by."
"I was," she replied, still facing the monitor.
"But you knew we'd be ambushed."
Silence.
"You had this place ready."
Only then did she turn to face him. Her eyes were sharp, unreadable.
"No, Adrian," she said quietly. "This villa was part of my inheritance. My parents died in a plane crash... two weeks before the world fell apart."
His breath caught.
She'd said his name like it belonged to her. Like she'd known it for far longer than was possible.
Mira stepped in beside them, arms crossed, weapon still slung over her shoulder.
"Why did you save us?" she asked flatly.
Julyah's lips curved slightly, though it was unclear whether it was a smirk or something colder.
"I was just passing by. You happened to be there. Be thankful and move on."
And with that, she turned and walked away, the soft tap of her boots echoing through the corridor.
Mira glanced at Adrian, jaw tight. "We don't know who she is. We don't know what she wants."
"No," Adrian said, eyes still on the door Julyah had vanished behind. "But I know what didn't happen today."
Bryce and Tom were still breathing.
In the dream that haunted him, they'd died. Bloody. Unrecoverable. Gone.
But today, because of her, they survived.
Somehow, Julyah had bent the script of fate.
And Adrian wasn't sure if that made her a guardian angel or something else entirely.
Adrian found her in the sunroom.
It was strange that the villa even had a sunroom. Glass walls let in warm light from the outside, though most of the garden beyond was dry and half-dead. The curtains swayed gently in the breeze. The air felt too clean, too peaceful, like the apocalypse had stopped at the door and decided not to come in.
Julyah stood in the center of the room, kneeling beside a low table. She was taking apart her sniper rifle with steady hands. Each click of metal on metal was quiet but sharp.
Even in pieces, the weapon looked deadly.
She didn't turn around.
"Don't sneak up on people, Adrian," she said.
"I didn't," he replied, stepping into the room.
"You didn't announce yourself, either."
He leaned against the doorframe. "You don't seem surprised I followed you."
"I would've been more surprised if you hadn't," she said, fitting part of the barrel into a sleek black case. "You've been watching me since the front gate."
He didn't deny it. "You said this place was part of your inheritance."
"It was."
"Nice timing."
She paused, then looked up. "You think I planned the end of the world just to show off my fancy panic house?"
"Wouldn't be the weirdest thing someone's done for me."
That made her lips twitch into a small smile. It was dry, brief, but real.
"You think I'm hiding something," she said.
"I know you are."
She clicked the next piece into place. "And yet, you're still here."
"You saved my team."
"I did."
"And you knew I'd come ask why."
This time, her eyes met his. Not angry. Not afraid. Just watching him closely, like she was weighing every word he said.
"I saw them die," Adrian said softly. "Tom and Bryce. I saw the ambush before it happened.
In a dream. Or something like it. They died in it. I tried to change it, but it happened again... and this time, you were there. And they lived."
She didn't answer right away.
"I need to know how."
The silence stretched.
Finally, she said, "I don't know what you're talking about. What dream?"
Adrian's jaw tightened. "I've been trained to sense danger. Marines call it a sixth sense.
But this, this wasn't instinct. These dreams weren't normal. I kept seeing the same thing, over and over. And then when it really happened... you were there. Like you already knew."
Julyah stood, slowly, and walked toward the window. Her arms folded over her chest as she stared out at the wilting roses and broken stone paths. Her shadow stretched long across the floor.
"What else did you dream about?" she asked, voice low.
"Nothing. Just that."
She turned back toward him. Her face was unreadable, but her voice was softer now.
"You don't want to know everything yet, Adrian. Some truths don't make things easier."
"Try me."
A pause. Her fingers grazed the windowsill.
"You're right about one thing," she said.
"What's that?"
"I'm not just passing by."
Then she stepped past him. As she did, her shoulder brushed lightly against his. The contact was brief, almost nothing, but it sent a strange chill through him. Not fear. Not even desire. Something colder. Something deeper.
Adrian didn't move.
He didn't stop her.
Because deep down, he already knew:
She wasn't just another survivor.
She was the wild card. The variable. The thing that could change everything they thought they knew about this war-torn world.
He stood alone in the sunroom for a long moment, staring at the pieces of her rifle still spread across the table.
She had saved them, but at what cost?
Just then, footsteps echoed softly down the hall.
Ellis appeared, looking worn and pale. His shirt was torn and stained, and a fresh bandage wrapped his upper arm.
"We need to talk," Ellis said, voice low.
Adrian turned to face him. "Is this about Julyah?"
Ellis nodded. "And the supplies we found in the basement."
Adrian's stomach tightened. "What supplies?"
Ellis glanced over his shoulder, then back at him. "A lot. Crates of food. Ammunition. Medical kits. More than any one person should have. I know we probably shouldn't mess with it, but…" He hesitated. "We need it. Now."
Adrian didn't ask anything else.
He followed Ellis down the hall, heart pounding.
Something about this place was too perfect. Too planned.
And whatever they were about to find, he already knew it would change everything.