That was when I learned the truth—Clay Sanchez was the head of the Capital City Syndicate. The only reason he'd ever lived in our modest little neighborhood was because he wanted to be close to me.
"Hello? Are you going to answer me or not?"
Silence on the other end. My cheeks burned.
"If you don't say something, I'm hanging up!"
What is wrong with this man...
My thumb hovered over the end-call button when that low voice finally came through again.
"I'm already at your door. Don't wait until this afternoon. I want to go now."
We walked out of City Hall with our marriage certificate, and Clay was immediately called away by one of his men—something urgent at the company. I watched him go, then checked the time.
Less than twelve hours until the end of the world.
I drove straight to the biggest supermarket in Capital City. Maybe because last year's heatwave had only lasted three days, everyone had let their guard down. The store was nearly empty.
I let out a breath of relief.
I grabbed compressed biscuits, instant noodles, pickled vegetables, cured meat—anything that would keep and fill a stomach. Then I made a beeline for the water aisle.