Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 153

Chapter 153: 153

"You dont suppose they’re going to shoot us right?" Harlowe whispered, tone dry as he sized up the man ahead.

"No, too loud and messy."Winter shook his head, lip twitching with amusement. "They’d probably poison or gas us. That would be easier to cover up."

Harlow hummed, nodding his head in agreement. "You got anyone who’d notice you’re missing?"

Winter’s thoughts drifted to Zara and Leo, "Yeah, I’d like to think so."

"Eww, what’s that look on your face?" Harlowe snorted. "She’s got you whipped."

Winter scowled and punched his shoulder, keeping his superhuman strength in check. This idiot. They were possibly walking to their deaths, and he was making jokes, huh?

"Please step inside," the escort said, glaring at them.

Harlowe walked in first, bumping into the escort while winter followed behind.

The room was colder than expected like the vents were blasting recycled air with just enough chill to keep them uncomfortable. The metal walls hummed faintly with the ever-present drone of security systems. Two officials sat behind a steel table, their expressions unreadable.

Winter and Harlow stood in front of them, the only sound in the room—the steady tick of the overhead clock.

"Sit," one of the officials instructed.

Neither Winter nor Harlow moved.

A beat of silence.

The second official adjusted his watch, a brief flick of his wrist, before exhaling sharply and leaning forward. "We have a few questions about your mission."

Winter crossed his arms. "Of course. So do we."

The officer’s eyes narrowed.

"Where did you go?"

Winter gave them the coordinates of the lab. Straightforward. No extra details.

"What did you see?"

Winter kept his expression blank. "A ruined facility. Dead power. Nothing on the systems."

The official studied him for a long moment, then shifted his attention to Harlow. "Who did you speak to?"

Harlow leaned against the chair behind him but didn’t sit. "My team."

Another pause.

The first official slid a folder across the table. "Then explain this."

Winter glanced down. Inside the folder was a single photograph. Blurry. Distorted. But unmistakable.

The figure from the security feed.

The thing they weren’t supposed to have seen.

Winter’s pulse spiked. How the hell did they get this? That footage had been locked down, wiped from their access before they could retrieve it. Something—no, someone—had made sure of that. And yet, here it was, staring back at him.

Slowly, he closed the folder and looked up.

"Who took this?"

The official didn’t answer immediately. He studied Winter, his gaze sharp, assessing, and then leaned forward.

"That doesn’t matter," he said, voice low. "What matters is that you understand this—whatever you think you saw, it was nothing."

Harlow let out a quiet scoff. "Right. Because security feeds glitch all the time and shows things that aren’t there?"

The official’s expression didn’t change. "This mission is over."

Winter clenched his fists.

They were being silenced.

Winter fought the urge to glance at Harlow. His partner had gone still, every trace of humor bled from his expression. The tick of the overhead clock suddenly seemed louder, each second hammering in the fact that they weren’t walking out of here the same way they came in.

Harlow exhaled sharply. "So that’s it, then?" He tilted his head. "We pretend we saw nothing, you pretend you believe us, and we all go on our merry way?"

The second official smiled. Not a friendly smile—a slow, deliberate curve of the lips that never reached his eyes. "Something like that."

Winter leaned forward, bracing his hands on the steel table. "You wouldn’t have dragged us in here just to make threats. What do you really want?"

The first official—sharp-jawed, with graying temples and a stare like a scalpel—folded his hands together. "Cooperation."

Winter’s shoulders tensed. "Define cooperation."

"Full transparency. From this moment forward, any findings, any discoveries, any unusual occurrences you come across, you report directly to us. No detours. No personal investigations. No leaking information to anyone outside of this room."

Winter felt Harlow shift beside him. They both knew what this was. Control.

Winter scoffed. "And if we refuse?"

The official tapped the folder with a single finger. "Then this becomes very difficult for you. And your team."

A muscle in Winter’s jaw twitched, but he forced his expression to remain neutral. The officials were watching too closely, waiting for a reaction, some indication of leverage.

Beside him, Harlow let out a short laugh. "So let me get this straight. You want us to work for you, feed you intel like good little soldiers, and in return, you don’t bury us six feet under?" He gave a low whistle. "Fantastic deal. Where do we sign?"

Neither official reacted. The first one merely slid another piece of paper across the table.

Winter’s stomach turned.

It was a contract.

Official documentation. Their names were already typed in neat, unassuming print.

Harlow didn’t move. "You’re joking."

"Not at all," the second official said. "Consider it a safeguard. If you sign, we ensure your safety. If you don’t..." He trailed off, letting the implications settle in.

Winter clenched his fists beneath the table. This wasn’t a choice. It was an ultimatum.

And the worst part? He didn’t doubt for a second that they would follow through.

His gaze flicked to the security camera perched in the upper corner of the room. Not just for recording. Probably monitored in real-time. If he and Harlow so much as twitched the wrong way, an entire security team would be on them.

Trapped.

Again.

Winter inhaled slowly. Controlled. Measured. He needed to play this carefully.

"So," he said, voice level. "If we sign, we get to walk out of here?"

The first official inclined his head. "Yes."

"And our team?"

"As long as they remain... uninvolved."

Winter’s jaw tightened. If they signed, that was it—constant surveillance, forced loyalty, and a permanent leash around their necks. If they refused...

Zara. Leo.

They didn’t have the luxury of rebellion. Not here. Not now.

His hand moved, reaching for the pen—

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Loud, harsh knocks thundered against the door.

The officials stiffened.

A sharp look passed between them before the first one pressed a button on his desk. The door unlocked with a soft beep and swung open to reveal a familiar figure.

Bale.

Their senior officer filled the doorway like a stormcloud, his expression carved from stone. The air in the room shifted—suffocating and electric.

The second official frowned. "This is a private interrogation."

Bale stepped inside without permission, the door sliding shut behind him. "No, it isn’t." His voice was quiet, but the threat behind it sent a ripple of unease through the room. "These are my men. You don’t get to hold them without my knowledge."

Winter barely resisted the urge to exhale.

Harlow, on the other hand, grinned. "Took you long enough, boss."

Bale didn’t even glance at him. His gaze was locked on the officials. "Release them."

The first official folded his hands together. "That’s not your call."

Bale took a slow step forward. "It is now."

Another tense silence filled the room.

Winter’s stomach tightened. He hadn’t seen Bale negotiate before— but he could imagine it being sharp, strategic, relentless. Yet these men weren’t ordinary bureaucrats. They were handlers—the kind of people who made problems disappear without a trace.

The second official leaned back in his chair, studying Bale with thinly veiled amusement. "You seem to be under the impression that this is a request."

"It isn’t," Bale said evenly.

The air felt colder.

The official sighed, feigning disappointment. "Commander Bale, your authority only extends so far. This is beyond your clearance."

"Funny," Bale murmured, tilting his head. "Because as far as I recall, my clearance outranks yours when it comes to personnel under my direct command."

A muscle in the first official’s jaw twitched.

Bale pressed forward. "I’m sure you wouldn’t want to explain to your superiors why you illegally detained two of my officers without my authorization."

The second official’s smirk faded. "We weren’t finished with them."

"You are now." Bale’s voice was frigid. "Whatever you wanted from them, you’re not getting it today. So let them go."

The first official’s fingers tapped once—slow, deliberate—against the steel table. Then he exhaled sharply, flicking his wrist toward the door.

"Fine." His tone was clipped, edged with reluctant fury. "Take them. But we’re not done." His gaze flicked to Winter and Harlow, dark with meaning. "You still owe us answers."

Winter didn’t react. There wasn’t much he was feeling now over the relief that he managed to escape signing that shit and the dread that Zara and Leo had somehow gotten wrapped up in something again.

Harlow, however, gave them a mock salute. "Can’t wait."

Bale turned sharply on his heel. "Let’s go."

Winter and Harlow didn’t need to be told twice.

They followed Bale out, stepping past the thick security presence waiting just outside. No one moved to stop them, but Winter could feel the officials’ eyes boring into his back.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

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