The sky bled crimson the day the world ended.
Ash Sinclair sat in the estate's library, grey hair falling into his green eyes as he stared at the financial reports scattered across the mahogany desk. Numbers that used to mean something. Billions in assets, investments across three continents, a legacy his parents had built over decades.
Now? Just paper.
"Sir, you should eat something." Mrs. Chen stood in the doorway, her weathered face creased with concern. She'd been with the Sinclair family for thirty years, had practically raised Ash and his siblings after their parents died.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Chen."
"You said that yesterday. And the day before." She stepped inside, carrying a tray despite his protests. "Your sister called again. She's worried about you."
Ash's jaw tightened. His sister—always the strong one, always the one who adapted. When the rifts opened three months ago, she'd been terrified like everyone else. But within weeks, something changed in her. She'd awakened to power, become one of the rare few the news was calling "hunters." The government was already recruiting people like her, offering protection and resources in exchange for fighting the monsters.
His brother, on the other hand, had vanished two weeks into the apocalypse. Walked out of the estate one morning and never came back. The police couldn't help they were too busy trying to hold the cities together. If he was alive, he was on his own.
"Tell her I'm managing the estate," Ash said, finally looking up. "Someone has to keep things running."
"Running?" Mrs. Chen set down the tray with more force than necessary. "Ash, there are monsters at the gates. The Johnsons down the road were killed last week. The Petersons abandoned their estate and fled to the safe zones. We're not running anything we're surviving."
Before Ash could respond, the lights flickered.
Then went out completely.
Mrs. Chen gasped. Ash was on his feet instantly, his heart hammering against his ribs. The backup generators should have kicked in immediately. The estate had three redundant power systems specifically for emergencies like this.
"Stay here," he said, moving toward the door.
"Ash—"
The explosion cut her off.
The eastern wall of the estate erupted in a shower of stone and fire. Ash was thrown backward, crashing into the bookshelf.
Books rained down around him as alarms began shrieking throughout the building.
"Mrs. Chen!" He scrambled to his feet, coughing on dust and smoke. She was on the floor, dazed but alive. "Are you hurt?"
"I—I don't—"
Gunfire erupted from somewhere outside. Marcus's voice crackled over the intercom system, distorted by static and panic.
"—under attack! All personnel to defensive positions! Sir, if you can hear this, get to the safe room now! We have multiple hostiles breaching the—"
The intercom cut to static.
Ash hauled Mrs. Chen to her feet. "We need to move. Now."
They burst into the hallway to chaos. Staff members were running in every direction, some armed with hunting rifles, others just fleeing. Thomas, one of the groundskeepers, sprinted past them with a crowbar clutched in white-knuckled hands.
"Thomas, what's happening?" Ash grabbed his arm.
The man's eyes were wild with terror. "They came through the walls! Just—just tore through like they weren't even there! Jenny, she—" His voice broke. "She's dead. Oh god, Jenny's dead."
Another explosion shook the building. Paintings fell from the walls, centuries-old portraits of Sinclair ancestors crashing to the marble floor.
"The safe room," Ash said, pulling Mrs. Chen with him. "We get everyone to the safe room and seal it until help arrives."
But even as he said it, he knew how hollow it sounded. Help from where? The government was stretched thin across every city. The military was being slaughtered. And the hunters there weren't enough hunters in the entire country to protect every estate, every home, every person.
They were on their own.
They rounded the corner to find Marcus and three security guards setting up a barricade at the end of the hall. Marcus's tactical vest was torn, blood seeping through a gash on his shoulder.
"Sir! Thank god." Marcus grabbed Ash's shoulder. "We need to get you out of here. The safe room's compromised—something tore through the steel door like it was cardboard."
Ash felt his blood turn cold. "Where's my sister?"
"East wing with the remaining staff. We're cut off there's at least four of those things between us and them." Marcus thrust a pistol into Ash's hands. "You remember how to use this?"
Ash had gone to the range a handful of times, more for show than any real skill. He'd been good at it in the controlled environment of a shooting gallery. But this?
"I remember."
A scream echoed from deeper in the estate. High-pitched, agonized, then abruptly silenced.
"That's twelve confirmed dead," one of the guards muttered, his face ashen. "Twelve in less than ten minutes."
The lights flickered again, and in that brief moment of strobing illumination, Ash saw it at the end of the hallway.
The creature was wrong in every conceivable way. Humanoid in basic shape but stretched, elongated, like someone had taken a person and pulled them taffy-thin. Its skin shifted between solid flesh and shadow, never quite settling on either. Eyes like burning coals fixed on them with an intelligence that was somehow worse than any animal hunger could be.
"Open fire!" Marcus shouted.
The hallway erupted with gunfire. Brass casings clattered to the marble floor. The creature jerked with each impact but didn't fall, didn't even slow down. The bullets passed through the shadowy parts of its body like it was made of smoke.
"Reloading!" one guard shouted.
That's when the creature moved.
It crossed thirty feet in a heartbeat. The first guard didn't even have time to scream before the creature's hand or what passed for a hand punched through his chest. The man looked down in shock at the limb protruding from his sternum, then crumpled.
Marcus grabbed Ash and Mrs. Chen, shoving them backward. "Run! Go, go, go!"
They ran.
Behind them, gunfire continued, punctuated by screams.