The Apocalypse Hoarder

"My name is Cyrus Knovell," he said evenly. "I want to order food for 500 tables. Is that a problem?"

Dylan's heart skipped. In all the years the hotel had been open, no one had ever placed an order this outrageous.

Nonetheless, business was business. A 400,000-dollar deal could not be refused so easily.

"Mr. Knovell, 500 tables will cost over 400,000 dollars," Dylan said carefully. "If you confirm, we can begin at once, but we'll need an 80,000-dollar deposit upfront."

"No problem," Cyrus replied. "Send me the account, and I'll transfer it."

Money opened doors. The manager added him as a contact, sent the bank details, and within minutes Cyrus had wired the deposit.

Once the financial department confirmed the funds, Dylan went into full battle mode. "Hurry! We've landed a massive order. Purchasing, stock up immediately. Kitchen, stop taking outside requests. We've got 500 tables of food to prepare within a day!"

On the other end, Cyrus hung up and exhaled. "Money will be worthless in a month, but for now, it's still the key to everything."

Between his parents' inheritance and his own savings, he had about 800,000 dollars. Half was gone in a single transfer. The sting passed quickly. It was better to spend it than watch it turn to waste paper. Most people would never even have the chance to do so.

Still, he needed more. Much more.

His gaze swept across the apartment. The 1,300-square-foot unit sat in Volaris' central ring and had been purchased outright a decade ago. At over 800 dollars per square foot, its market value easily exceeded 1,000,000 dollars

Cyrus grinned. "I'll mortgage it. That'll give me the cash."

The best part? He would never need to repay it.

He grabbed his keys, left home, and drove straight to the bank. Halfway there, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Diana.

Diana: [Cyrus, weekends are so boring. I wish someone would take me out.]

He glanced once before tossing the phone aside.

At the bank, the process was smooth. His house was fully paid, his documents in order, and he requested a large loan. They approved 800,000 dollars. It was less than he wanted, but he did not argue. Free money was free money.

He signed the papers, and soon the funds hit his account.

'After the banquet transfer, I still have about 400,000 dollars left,' he calculated. 'It's enough to turn the apartment into a fortress. But weapons and medicine will cost plenty. This still won't be enough.'

Cyrus rubbed his chin, plotting ways to raise more cash. Just then, a street punk with bleached hair and a sly grin spotted him.

The punk's eyes flashed, and he strolled over. "Hey, buddy. Need money?"

"Who are you?"

The punk leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I asked if you need cash. The bank wouldn't lend to you, right?"

Cyrus' eyes narrowed. 'A loan shark.'

A plan flickered in his mind. He let out a heavy sigh and forced a troubled look.

"Yeah. My family business needs urgent capital, but the bank…" he trailed off.

The punk smirked. Anyone who could borrow from a bank wouldn't be standing there.

"Yeah, banks are slow and picky these days," the punk said smoothly. "But me? I can help. If you need fast money, I've got connections."

Cyrus gave him a cautious look. "You? Are you sure? I need at least 1,000,000 dollars."

The punk's eyes lit up. 'Big fish.'

He whipped out a business card. "Our company specializes in rescuing people from desperate situations. If you need money, you came to the right place."

The card read: [Duomore Finance. Mason Hackett, Sales Manager.]

Cyrus' face brightened with feigned excitement. "You can really lend me money? I need a million. Help me through this, and I swear I'll pay it back within three months."

Mason chuckled. "That can be arranged. Our company is capable. We exist to help people like you. Come on, let's go to the office. We'll discuss the details there."

Cyrus nodded eagerly and followed.

The "office" was tucked inside a shabby building. Mason led him straight to his employer's room. A broad-shouldered man in a sharp suit sat waiting, his businesslike smile undermined by his menacing gaze.

Mason made the introduction. "Mr. Brond, this is the client I told you about."

Russell Brond smiled widely and gestured for Cyrus to sit. "Mr. Knovell, how much do you want to borrow?"

'Typical loan shark—straight to the point. No contracts, no red tape. Just the money and the price of it,' Cyrus thought.

"One million," Cyrus said calmly.

Russell's brows lifted. "That's not a small sum. Let me be clear. Our interest rates are very high. You'll need to be prepared."

Mason jumped in quickly. "But Mr. Knovell just needs cash to keep his business afloat. Once it turns around, paying us back will be easy. Right?"

The two played off each other, their act obvious to Cyrus.

Still, Cyrus maintained an eager expression. "Yes, exactly. I can repay quickly. High interest or not, I'll take it—as long as you lend me the money."