When the World Ends, She Begins novel Chapter 52

Natalie had no interest in wasting time with Owen and his mistress. She still had Braxton to deal with. Without a word, she kept heading downstairs.

As they brushed past, Elena finally noticed the little dog trotting at Natalie's heels.

White and chubby, Lucky waddled along happily, head bobbing.

Elena's eyes instantly lit up with greed.

She thought she could use the dog for some cooking at difficult times like this.

She could almost smell the rich flavors she'd savored before the disaster.

Years of living off Owen's dime had spoiled her palate—turtle, snake, goose, every kind of "exotic" wild meat.

To her, everything that breathed was potential food.

Sensing her gaze, Lucky bared his teeth and let out a vicious snarl.

Natalie heard the sound and turned her head, her eyes cold.

"Stop staring at what isn't yours. Keep it up and you'll lose those eyes."

The chill in her gaze sent a shiver down Elena's spine. She instantly ducked behind Owen.

Owen had noticed Lucky too. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted.

But he knew he was no match to Natalie. Owen knew better—staying alive always came first.

So he hurried to apologize, tugging Elena by the hand as they rushed upstairs. "I'm sorry about that. My wife is not used to outside much—we'll get out of your way."

Natalie got goosebumps all over.

Wife? Please. Stop trying to sound refine.

That gaudy woman is no wife of yours.

She ignored them and kept moving, heading straight for the 8th floor.

Just in case Braxton still had knockout drugs on him, she slipped her gas mask back on.

The stairwell door was, as expected, shut. But it was flimsy. She lifted her foot and slammed it open with one hard kick.

She remembered—in her last life, Tiffany and Braxton had holed up in Unit 802.

So she walked right up to that door.

"Braxton, open up."

Not a sound came from inside.

"You left Tiffany at my place," Natalie said.

Still, there was no reply.

So Braxton really was that selfish—or maybe he just didn't care about Tiffany at all.

Natalie didn't waste another word. She pulled out her tools and forced the lock in seconds.

Braxton crouched in the corner of his bedroom closet while clutching a hammer; his whole body trembling at the sounds coming from the front door.

It's over. It's all over.

His grip on the hammer was so tight his palms were slick with sweat.

Then the door gave way. He could hear Natalie's footsteps entering, each one deliberate, dragging something heavy across the floor.

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