Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 144

Chapter 144: 144

The door clicked open, and Zara looked up instinctively, her hand still patting Leo’s back.

Winter stepped inside, and immediately, something felt off.

His shoulders were rigid, his expression unreadable. Not his usual composed, thoughtful silence—this was different. His jaw was tight, his movements controlled in a way that set her on edge.

She frowned.

"You’re back," she said stiffly, trying to gauge his mood. Had something happened there?

He crossed the space between them in quick, determined strides, and then his hands were on her face, pulling her in, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that stole all the breath from her lungs.

For a second, her thoughts scattered.

The tension, the annoyance at how easily he had left, the stiff frustration in her spine—all of it vanished, replaced by the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his body against hers.

She kissed him back, because how could she not?

Zara drowned in the heat of it, in the way his hands gripped her as if she might vanish if he let go.

What the hell...?

This wasn’t their usual rhythm. She knew Winter—knew his wants, his tells, the slow-building hunger in his touches when he wanted her. This kiss wasn’t that. It was desperate, almost searching.

Desperate. Almost possessive.

It sent a thrill racing through her veins, but at the same time, something in the back of her mind warned her.

Something wasn’t right.

Still, she kissed him back, fingers sliding up his arms, gripping the fabric of his shirt as she let herself be pulled under, just for a moment.

Then they were moving, falling into the bed, the mattress dipping beneath their weight.

Winter didn’t stop kissing her. Didn’t stop running his hands over her, like he needed to feel her, to memorize every inch.

Heat coiled low in her stomach, her breath coming faster—but just as quickly as it began, Winter slowed.

His lips parted from hers, and instead of diving back in, he shifted.

His head came to rest just over her chest, where her heart pounded against his temple. His breath was warm against her skin, steadying, grounding.

Or maybe he just needed grounding.

Zara frowned, one hand slipping into his hair as they lay there, catching their breath.

She swallowed, her chest rising and falling in time with his.

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of their breathing.

Then—

"What’s wrong?" she murmured.

Winter didn’t answer.

Her fingers brushed against the nape of his neck. "Why’d you come back so soon?"

Still, nothing.

A furrow formed between her brows. "Did something happen?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he stayed silent.

Zara’s unease sharpened.

"Did someone say something to you?"

Winter tensed. Barely noticeable, but she felt it.

And suddenly, the sinking feeling in her gut solidified into certainty.

His hold on her remained firm, his face half-buried against her skin. He took a long breath before speaking.

"Drop it, Zara."

She stiffened beneath him. "No."

"Zara—"

"Winter."

His jaw tightened, and she felt his breath grow uneven.

"Just let it go," he muttered, but there was something raw in his voice now.

She gripped his chin, forcing him to look at her. "No," she repeated, softer this time. "Because whatever they said to you, it made you run straight to me."

His lips parted slightly like he wanted to argue—but then his shoulders slumped.

For the first time, she saw it. The flicker of doubt. Of guilt. Of fear.

His fingers tightened at her waist. "They think I’m seeing someone else when I look at you," he finally said.

Zara’s brows furrowed. "Seeing someone else?"

The realization struck like a gut punch.

Her breath caught.

"Your wife," she murmured.

Winter didn’t confirm it, but he didn’t need to. The answer was in the way he looked at her.

Zara’s fingers curled into the sheets.

"...Is that why you kissed me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Winter’s throat bobbed. He didn’t answer immediately. But then—

"No." A pause. "I kissed you because I needed to be sure."

Her stomach twisted. "Sure of what?"

His fingers twitched at his sides. His gaze flickered, uncertainty shadowing his features.

Then—

"That it’s you."

A breath shuddered out of her as something in her chest cracked.

"You had to check?"

Winter shifted up onto his elbows. "Zara—"

She pushed herself further upright, forcing him to sit up too. The warmth between them disappeared instantly, leaving only the cold air and the sharp edge of her anger.

"You had to be sure that I wasn’t just—what? Some leftover shadow of her?" Her voice trembled with restrained fury.

Winter sat up fully now, watching her carefully. "That’s not what I meant."

"Then what the hell did you mean?"

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "I wasn’t checking for anything, Zara. I knew what I felt for you—for Leo—was real. I wasn’t questioning that."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Then why the fuck did you say it like that?"

Winter’s gaze sharpened, frustration creeping into his voice. "Because I was put on the spot and trying to explain something I barely understand myself!"

Zara scoffed. "Oh, that makes me feel so much better."

His expression hardened. "Do you rhink I don’t know how I feel about you?"

She crossed her arms. "Do you?"

Winter let out a low, exasperated breath. "Zara, come on—"

"No, Winter, you don’t get to ’Zara, come on’ me! You don’t get to kiss me, sleep next to me, hold my son in your arms, and then turn around and say you had to check that I wasn’t just some replacement for a ghost!"

Her voice broke slightly at the end, and she hated it.

Winter raked a hand down his face. "I didn’t say that."

"You didn’t have to."

She shoved the blanket off her legs, moving to swing them over the edge of the bed, but before she could, his fingers caught around her wrist.

"Wait."

She froze, pulse a frantic drum in her ears.

Winter gripped her hand, firm but not forceful, his touch grounding even as she bristled beneath it.

He dragged in a breath, his voice lower now, steadier. "I said that wrong, fuck. I didn’t mean that." His fingers tightened slightly, as if willing her to believe him. "I knew what I felt for you and Leo wasn’t fake or misplaced. Maybe I worded it wrong, but I wasn’t trying to compare you to her."

Zara glared down at him, jaw clenched, but something in her gut twisted.

Because she saw it—the way his expression shifted, the way his grip on her hand was just shy of desperate.

"I wasn’t confused about you," he said quietly. "I just... I got in my own head for a second."

Zara swallowed, eyes burning.

She got it. And she hated that she did.

She remembered the way grief warped things, how it sneaked in through the cracks, whispering If you love again, does that mean you loved them less?

She knew what it was like to wonder if moving forward was betrayal.

Her throat tightened.

"...Don’t do that again," she said finally. Her voice was quiet, rough.

Winter nodded, solemn. "I won’t."

Zara watched him, searching for a lie.

She didn’t find one.

So after a beat, she exhaled sharply and moved back onto the bed, tugging the blanket over herself.

Winter didn’t reach for her this time. He just watched as she settled back, his gaze cautious, careful.

Zara shifted onto her side, facing away from him, closing her eyes.

*****

Zara lay still, eyes open in the darkness, her back to Winter. His breathing was steady now, slow and even, but she could tell he wasn’t fully asleep.

Neither was she.

He had explained himself, and on some level, she understood. She knew grief wasn’t clean. She knew how it could creep into the edges of something new, twisting love into guilt, making a person second-guess even the things they were certain of.

But that didn’t erase the fact that this only happened because of his people.

They were the ones who planted the thought in his head. They were the ones who made him doubt.

Zara’s fingers curled into the blanket beneath her.

It wasn’t that they had done anything outright wrong—at least, not yet. But the moment they showed up, something had shifted. Winter had been fine before. He had been here, with her, with Leo. He had held them both like they were his world. But then his people came, and suddenly, he was questioning himself? Questioning her?

No.

Zara’s jaw clenched. If they wanted him to keep traveling with them, they could have just said so. But instead, they had gone for something deeper, something more insidious. They had aimed at his weakest spot—his past. His grief.

Why?

She exhaled sharply through her nose, forcing herself to loosen her grip on the blanket.

It didn’t matter.

She wasn’t about to play into whatever game they were trying to start. If they wanted her to be on edge, to feel like she had to defend herself, they weren’t going to get that satisfaction.

She would avoid them.

For now, she would let Winter sort through his own feelings. Let him decide what he wanted to do. Because she had bigger things to focus on—like figuring out what the hell was really going on in this base.

There were already too many unanswered questions. She couldn’t add more to it.

And more than anything else, she needed to make sure Leo was safe.

That had to be her priority. Not Winter’s people. Not the mess they were trying to create between her and Winter.

Her son.

Her fingers relaxed.

if Winter’s people wanted to keep playing their little games?

They would learn, soon enough, that she wasn’t someone who could be easily shaken.

Zara closed her eyes, forcing her body to relax.

Tomorrow, she would start looking for answers.

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