Apocalypse Queen: My Space, My Rules Chapter 150: Payday

"Ms. Townsend, please—let me explain." Number Six's eyes went wide, words tumbling out. "I was not trying to open the gate. I just thought nobody was watching the front entrance, and it made me nervous. My legs are banged up, but I can stand guard. I didn't betray you. I swear I didn't—"

"Want to talk inside?" Mariella raised a brow, cutting him off gently.

Number Six caught himself and stepped aside.

Mariella walked in. The door closed.

About seven or eight minutes later, she left something behind and stepped out.

Number Ten was hovering in her own doorway, watching. When Mariella emerged, she hurried over.

"Ms. Townsend, did Number Six try to get ahead of the story? I genuinely thought he looked suspicious. With everyone else fighting upstairs, he was alone at the gate. After what Number Four and Number Seven did, I couldn't help but worry—"

"I understand how you feel." Mariella cut in, her tone just as gentle. "Want to talk inside?"

Number Ten blinked, then smiled.

The boss had treated her exactly the same way she'd treated Number Six. No difference at all.

About seven or eight minutes later, Mariella left something behind and stepped out of Number Ten's room.

Both doors remained shut.

Because Mariella had given them both the same order, "Do not leave your room tonight."

...

The mob launched another wave against No. 98.

They threw everything they had at it. No. 98 didn't budge. The steel walls, the high-voltage grid—nothing they did made a dent.

Mariella shared a simple dinner with the team. Then she made an announcement. "Payday."

The team froze. Nobody had expected her to hand out salaries in the middle of a siege.

After a brief silence, Number One spoke for the group. "We don't need a paycheck right now. There's no rush."

"Ms. Townsend, just keeping us fed and sheltered is more than enough. We don't want the money." Number Two agreed.

"We don't want it!" The rest echoed.

Money was losing value by the day now. Three meals and a safe roof mattered infinitely more.

The boss gave them shelter and security. They were content.

Mariella tipped the corner of her mouth up. "You're turning it down before you even know what the pay is?"

Chandler lifted a heavy duffel bag onto the dining table, unzipped it, and began pulling out rifles, pistols, magazines, ammunition...

Every eye in the room locked on and didn't move.

"Still don't want your paycheck?" Mariella's voice was light.

Every throat in the room swallowed at the same time. "Yes, ma'am."

...

The world had already gone to hell. Firepower was law now.

With real weapons in hand, spines straightened.

Chandler distributed firearms and ammunition, filling out the team's remaining equipment gaps.

Matthew logged everything on his laptop: one AK rifle per teammate, one pistol, four spare magazines, 200 rounds, one drop-leg leather holster, and one multifunction tactical belt.

On top of what they'd already been issued: quad-lens night-vision goggles, tactical helmets with built-in comms, and tactical body armor.

Plus the cold weapons from before: combat knives, triangular bayonets, entrenching tools, and ballistic shields.

From now on, nothing went back to the armory. Every piece stayed with its owner.

Everyone geared up immediately. The drop-leg holsters fit the pistols perfectly—practical and sharp-looking.

The tactical belts held spare magazines, rounds, and compact blades within easy reach.

Each of them gripped a fully loaded AK, ready for whatever came next. Their blood was running hot.

Mariella read the room. "Everyone ready?"

"Ready!" In unison.

Mariella snapped her fingers and gave the order for tonight's operation. "Then, let's go to war."

She hauled a Gatling gun up to the rooftop and locked it into position.

The black mouth of the barrel swung toward the Five Brothers' position. The armored Bentley was an obvious target.

Below, several hundred thugs were still throwing themselves at No. 98 with everything they had.

Their tactics were as desperate as they were futile: they rammed the gate to no effect, pried at the foundation only to find it stiffened and unyielding, and lobbed firebombs at the glass and roof in a completely pointless display of friction.

After over an hour of futility, Black Bear lost his temper, and they broke out shovels and started digging a tunnel.