18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 377

Brandon wolfed down two bowls of spaghetti, the carbs filling him up enough to regain a semblance of dignity. Gone was the ravenous beast; in its place, a gentleman with poise. But the fire in his voice remained, "Sis, I caught a car thief."

Stella almost choked on her pasta, coughing violently. "Cough... cough cough..." she sputtered, barely managing to swallow.

Ungrateful punk, she thought. She'd even given him back half the meds, yet he was still hung up on the car. Nine years, and he still wouldn't let it go!

She was so close to smashing her bowl over his head. If not for the three souped-up Mustangs, she wouldn't have even considered giving back those meds.

But she forced a smile, masking her irritation. "Really? Who was it?"

"He got away," Brandon muttered between bites, "but if I get my hands on those jerks, I'll drink their blood and feast on their flesh. I'll chop off their heads and use them as soccer balls!"

Stella had enough, her tone turning icy. "Cars like that aren't unique, and who's to say it was yours?"

"I'd recognize that car even if it were ashes," Brandon shot back, burning with indignation. "Sure, there are more worldwide, but only one in the country!"

Stella wanted to slap him. "And how do you know it's the only one in the country?"

"My cousin handled the paperwork, it was the first one here."

Stella rolled her eyes. "Your cousin's a nutcase, taking meds daily. You believe everything he says?"

steadfast. "He might be sick, but he

them, and their records are top secret, beyond your cousin's reach." Brandon paused, considering the logic but still felt the car was his. "Sis, you

you're so capable. How come

dry. If not for old times' sake, she'd

welled up, and he couldn't finish his spaghetti. "Yeah, I'm a waste

a second-generation rich kid, living off

pang of pity. "Even if you got the car back,

heart bled. Indeed, he

you're strong enough, jets and cannons

had arrived full of

asked, "What's your plan

was lost. He'd failed the military exams, and a regular job was out of

bigger fish. They'd risk their lives for scrap metal. He'd played dead during a team fight, or he'd

buy jets and yachts without blinking, and now he

ha ha..." The absurdity made him laugh, but

son, he wasn't immune to harsh realities. Without his father's protection, he'd fallen from

father's words kept him going. He lived for the Porras family, not himself. But how to live well? He was

asked, "Stella,

was in her Arcadia. She couldn't let

was the last time. If he ever brought up the car again,

labor isn't your thing. Let Jasper show you a few tricks to pass the military exams. Becoming a fireseed operative is your best shot against the cataclysm. Shane