Apocalypse Queen: My Space, My Rules Chapter 123: Arms and Orders

"If we allow these people to do as they please, the rest of us will be next. While this threat is still small enough to contain, we need to unite and cut it out before it grows any further."

The Hancocks had always been the wealthiest family in Liraelith, and with that came a kind of authority no one questioned.

Celestine Ridge residents had long looked to them for direction, and Wallace speaking up personally was all the signal anyone needed.

The group chat flooded with responses.

"What's the plan, Mr. Hancock? Just say the word. Like when No. 1 organized the alligator patrols and every household sent two bodyguards. Tell us how many men and how many firearms to bring and we'll have it done."

"That's right, Mr. Hancock has our full support."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Hancock. We're with you."

"I can't believe those fired guys actually have the nerve to pull something like this."

"Honestly, this proves we were right to let them go. If the convict gang had come through instead, they would've turned on their employers first thing."

"Elmgrove Estates should be lesson enough. We can't let that happen here."

The chat erupted, residents falling over each other to condemn the rogue guards and bodyguards, already talking about how to hit back as a unified front.

Then a new message from No. 101 broke through, and the tone shifted entirely. "You fired me for no reason, Villa 38. You think anyone can survive out there right now? I wouldn't have done this if you'd left me any other choice. You drove me to it."

Villa 38's owner reacted immediately. "That's not his account. That's the bodyguard I dismissed. He took control of No. 101 and got into the group."

Others caught on fast. "He's got the owner's phone."

The group admin found the account and removed it within seconds, then worked with the other moderators to identify and remove two additional accounts linked to No. 101.

It wasn't a judgment against the homeowner. No. 101 had fallen. Its residents were either being held or were dead, and whoever was speaking for them now wasn't speaking for them at all.

Once the group was clean and Wallace was satisfied no infiltrators remained, he issued his orders. "Every household is to send three bodyguards or able-bodied men, a minimum of two firearms, and whatever cold weapons they choose. Two hours from now, assemble at the property management security post and report to the newly appointed security captain for unified command."

Mariella moved fast, pulling her whole team together and running the draw again.

"Same rules as always. Captain Zimmer, the Deputy Captain, Dr. Lester, and Serena sit this one out. Everyone else draws for rotation. Three per shift this time."

Matthew leaned in quietly. "The group chat specified male bodyguards only..."

"If they have a problem with female bodyguards, Number Five and Number Ten can prove themselves on the spot. If they genuinely can't hold their own against the men in their shift, they come back. Simple." Mariella had no doubts about either of them.

Number Five and Number Ten straightened up. "We won't embarrass No. 98, Ms. Townsend."

The draw put Numbers Four, Six, and Seven on today's rotation.

Mariella laid out the equipment. Two handguns with two spare magazines and 20 rounds of ammunition. One chainsaw, two entrenching tools, three combat knives, three military helmets with night-vision attachments, and radios. Full bulletproof vests for each. Military grade, nothing cheap.

The team stared at the equipment laid out before them, eyes wide.

So the boss really did have firearms.

Matthew, Chandler, and Number One took it in stride. Even Serena didn't look particularly surprised. But the three bodyguards who'd drawn today's shift were barely keeping it together. Every one of them wanted a gun.

Mariella didn't hand anything over yet. She looked at the three of them, her voice level and cool.

"Firearms are the most valuable thing we have right now. Ammunition is worth more than gold. You lose a gun, you've lost your life, and you don't come back here. Are we clear?"

The hands that had been reaching forward pulled back.

They were starting to wonder if this was a test. Whether she was looking for a reason to cut staff.

They hadn't been in the group chat, but they did their rounds every day and heard things from the other bodyguards.

After what happened at Elmgrove Estates, Celestine Ridge homeowners had been trimming their security staff, cutting anyone who seemed like a liability. That news had made the rounds quietly, and it had made everyone nervous.

Out there meant no food, no shelter, and the convict gang moving through the streets like a death sentence. They'd grown used to the comfort of Celestine Ridge. Nobody wanted to walk away from that.

So the dismissed guards and bodyguards had done the only thing that felt like an option. They'd organized, moved on No. 101 at the outer edge of the complex, and refused to go.

The ten bodyguards of No. 98 stood there with their hearts hammering, palms damp with sweat.