18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

After living with Jasper for so long, Stella knew her way around firearms just as well as he did. One look at the gun in the punk's hand, and she knew it was a fake. But even rubber bullets could be deadly if fired at Angela's temple point-blank.

Angela wasn't one to be underestimated. In a flash, she knocked the gun from his hand and landed a solid punch to his gut.

The cocky kid didn't stand a chance. He doubled over in pain, hitting the ground hard.

The fight escalated fast, with Cody and Lukas taking hits and Kitty nursing an injured arm. Angela and Rosie were in the thick of it.

Furious and humiliated, the young punk pulled another gun from his pocket and aimed it straight at Angela's head...

This one was real.

But Stella was quicker. She aimed her own gun at his arm and pulled the trigger.

A deafening bang silenced the chaos.

The kid's gun clattered to the ground as he writhed, clutching his bleeding arm.

Stella strode over, planted a boot on his chest, and smashed the butt of her gun onto his head, snapping, "You think you're the king around here?"

The kid's lackeys, just recovering from the shock, shouted indignantly, "You've got some nerve! Do you even know who he is?"

"It doesn't matter who he is," Stella said coolly, scanning the group with an icy gaze. "He's someone's son. And since his parents aren't around to teach him, it looks like someone else has to."

She brandished her gun. "Anyone else want a taste of lead?"

They were seething but held back, wary of the weapon in her hand.

Seeing Stella, Rosie finally let out a breath. "Sis."

"What's going on here?" Stella demanded.

Rosie's face flushed with anger and embarrassment, struggling to explain.

Angela cursed, "That little punk thought he could mess with Rosie. After making lewd comments multiple times, he tried to drag her back to Raven Port by force."

What? The young one that Stella and Jasper had nurtured for years was being targeted by some entitled brat?

Stella was so furious she almost blew his head off.

"Enough!"

A gruff voice called out as a middle-aged man hurried over, accompanied by several aides.

The lackeys sighed in relief at his arrival and immediately played the victim, "Mr. Marshall, these thugs are lawless. They not only attacked young Hunter but even had the audacity to shoot him. If you hadn't shown up, Hunter could've been killed by these hooligans." Hunter wailed like a stuck pig, "Dad, help me! I'm dying!"

Stella's boot came down again, nearly shattering his jaw, and he howled in agony.

Seeing his son beaten, the man's brow furrowed in worry, and his aides quickly intervened.

Stella lifted her gun, challenging, "Who dares to touch me?"

The man stepped forward, "What the hell happened here?"

If she wasn't mistaken, he was the head of the relief operation. "You're Mr. Marshall, right?" Stella's voice was icy.

He nodded. "Yes, I'm in charge of the relief efforts. Put the gun down. We can talk this out without any rash actions."

Stella kept her gun raised. "I appreciate what Raven Port officials have done for the survivors, including my family. I believe you're a dedicated and responsible person, or you wouldn't be working through your illness. You're a good man, but a neglectful father. Do you have any idea what your son has been up to?"

With that, she kicked the gun on the ground toward him.

Seeing the weapon, the man's expression darkened. That little rascal dared to steal his gun!

Shocked, his gaze turned to his son on the ground.

"A few days ago, he took a speedboat out for fun, using it to intimidate survivors passing by, shooting them with rubber bullets, and then he had the gall to harass me. Considering your leadership in the relief efforts and your selfless aid to many survivors, I held back from teaching him a lesson right then. But instead of reflecting, he became even more brazen. If I'd shot him when I had the chance, none of this would've happened today."

Stella stared at the man coldly. "A failure to discipline falls on the father. You've worked hard in the rescue, and we're grateful, but letting your son terrorize and harass people, does that really make it all okay?"

The man's anger flared as he scolded his son, "Is any of this true?"

The young man dared not admit it. "No, it's all lies. Dad, don't listen to their nonsense!"

Judging by the man's reaction, Stella guessed he was well aware his son wasn't exactly an angel. "Mr. Marshall, these are desperate times. If you can't teach him how to be a decent human being, rest assured, someone else will."

"That's right. Like father, like son. And your boy here is nothing but trouble."

Voices from the crowd joined in, fueled by outrage. "You come here to aid disaster victims, dragging along your son and the other privileged kids. They strut around the shelter like they own the place, calling us refugees a waste of food, telling us we're worse than dogs and should just die."

"Absolutely. Yesterday, your son pretended to hand out food, but he mixed sand in the dough and spit in it, saying we'd eat it up even if it was smeared with filth."

"That girl's just a kid, and your son... he's a monster, thinking he can just take her for his amusement. He's worse than an animal."

"You call yourself a leader? Raising a son like that and you dare to lead? Pretending to care, do you even see us as human beings? Disgusting!"

The crowd's anger erupted, and the seething mass of emotions turned into a barrage of accusations against the man and his son.

With the shelter disbanded, they had nowhere to go, no more aid to claim. They would no longer endure in silence.

The pain of losing loved ones, the despair over an uncertain future, and the humiliation endured in recent days ignited a wildfire of resentment...

Caught up in his duties, the man had left his son's upbringing to his wife, and indeed, the boy had become quite spoiled. But he never imagined the extent of his son's misconduct.

He had been assigned to the disaster relief effort and fell ill upon arrival. With people everywhere in desperate need of help, every minute counted in mounting a response.

Overwhelmed with coordinating the entire relief operation and working sick, he had no time to deal with his son, who had shown up unannounced, much less to send him back to Raven Port.

But knowing his son's character, he had repeatedly warned him not to cause trouble, and his son had seemed sincere in his promises to help as a volunteer.

He had felt reassured, thinking his son was maturing after witnessing human suffering. Little did he know...

Old man Marshall had a knack for reading his boy like an open book, even if young Hunter was as stubborn as a mule, denying every accusation with a fiery passion. Yet, all it took was one glance at the kid's face, and the old man would know the truth clear as day.

The shame that washed over the father was almost too much to bear. He reached out, grabbing a fistful of Hunter's shirt, yanking the boy to his feet. Without a word, he delivered two sharp slaps across Hunter's cheek. The sound echoed in the silent room, a testament to a father's heartache and a son's defiance.