Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 166

Chapter 166: 166

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Zara barely registered the way Winter was still holding her up, one arm braced tightly around her back. Her head throbbed, her body felt like it had been wrung out and discarded, and every breath sent fresh waves of pain through her skull.

But it wasn’t the pain that made her stomach clench.

It was Winter’s silence.

She swallowed against the raw ache in her throat. His grip on her arms had eased, but his fingers still hovered at her sides, like he didn’t trust her to stay upright. Not that she blamed him, she didn’t trust herself to stay upright.

Zara barely noticed the moment Winter pulled away—only that, as soon as he did, the world tilted.

Her breath hitched. A sharp pulse of pain thrummed through her skull, spreading down her spine like molten iron. The room was wrong, shifting at the edges, her body sluggish to respond.

Winter caught her before she hit the floor.

A harsh curse left his lips, rough hands gripping her shoulders to hold her steady. "You’re shaking," he muttered, more to himself than her. His grip tightened. "Damn it, Zara."

She let out a shaky breath, trying to focus. "I—I just need a second."

Winter didn’t let go. If anything, he looked ready to pin her in place if she so much as twitched the wrong way.

"You can’t even sit up without nearly face-planting," he snapped. "You’re done. I mean it."

Zara clenched her jaw. "We don’t have the luxury of ’done,’ Winter."

His eyes flashed dangerously. "No," he said, voice low, rough. "What we don’t have is the luxury of you pulling this reckless shit and expecting to walk away fine."

The heat in his voice should have made her mad. It usually did. But this time, it was different. It wasn’t just anger—it was something raw, tight, and scared.

Winter wasn’t just pissed.

He was shaken.

Her stomach twisted.

"I’m still here, aren’t I?" she murmured, voice quieter now.

Winter went still. His hands didn’t leave her shoulders, his breath still coming sharp and uneven.

Then, after a tense second, he exhaled and muttered, "Fucking barely."

The guilt clawed at her chest, but before she could say anything, he pulled back just enough to reach for something near the bed.

A cup of water.

"Drink," he ordered, shoving it toward her.

Her hands shook as she took it, but the moment she tried to lift it to her lips, her fingers gave out. The cup slipped from her grasp, and before it could spill, Winter snatched it back, cursing under his breath.

"Stubborn idiot," he muttered, then brought it to her lips himself.

Zara’s cheeks burned, but she was too drained to fight him. The water was lukewarm, but it helped, soothing her dry throat.

Winter only pulled it away when he was sure she’d had enough. He wiped the back of his hand across her mouth, then leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, staring her down.

"What did you see?"

Zara’s fingers curled into the fabric of her tunic. "I don’t—"

"Don’t," he cut her off, voice flat. "Don’t tell me you don’t know. Not after this." He gestured sharply at her, at her blood-streaked mouth, at the exhaustion weighing her down like a lead cloak. "You better have gotten something."

She swallowed.

"Not much," she admitted. "Darkness. Static. Like... a screen that wouldn’t focus."

Winter’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t interrupt.

"There were voices," she continued, gaze distant. "I couldn’t understand most of them. Like they were warped underwater."

His brows furrowed. "And?"

Zara lowered her head, suddenly feeling chastised. "Nothing, it was too low and too far off to make anything out of it."

Winter’s expression flickered, then hardened again. He was about to snap at her, she could see it, the tension in his shoulders coiling tighter, but she interrupted before the words could leave his mouth.

"But it worked," she said quickly, her voice firm despite her exhaustion. "I pulled something out of it, even though it was all jumbled and distorted. That means if I focus and try again—I might be able to see more clearly. To control it better."

"Focus?" Winter scoffed, disbelief and frustration written across his face. "You think you’re ready to—"

His lips parted as if he were about to give her another lecture, but she beat him to it.

"I’m not going to try anything right now," she said quickly, not wanting to anger him further. "I get it, I’m not in any condition to experiment. But... if I can get better control, if I can focus, I could help us. I could see things. And if I can’t go to the lab, then—"

Winter cut her off, his voice low but resolute. "Then you need to be here. With us. Doing what you can."

She tilted her head slightly, leaning back against him as dizziness made her head swim. "Exactly," she muttered, fighting the fog in her mind. "Leo’s space is evolving, you train every day... So I should be able to contribute too, right?"

His breath caught at the mention of Leo’s space, and Zara saw the brief flash of concern in his eyes before he masked it again.

"Giving me peace of mind is important too, Zara," Winter said quietly, his voice softer now. "I don’t need you pushing yourself to the edge like this."

Zara huffed, trying to push past the pain in her body, but she couldn’t shake the exhaustion. She leaned against him, her head falling to his shoulder. "I’ll keep that in mind," she murmured, her voice fading.

Winter’s hand found the blanket, pulling it over her shoulders with care but no less intensity. "I don’t care how stubborn you are," he said, his voice gentler now but firm. "We won’t be doing this again for a long time."

Zara opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, the exhaustion slammed into her like a tidal wave. She closed her eyes, fighting it for just a moment longer, but it was no use. Her body succumbed to the need for rest, the fog of exhaustion heavy in her limbs.

As she drifted off, her mind still clung to the fragments of the vision. There had been something important there. Something she couldn’t quite piece together.

*****

Winter sat there, unmoving, as Zara’s breathing evened out. His arms remained wrapped around her, her weight slumped against his chest. The adrenaline still hadn’t left his veins, leaving his muscles coiled tight, his mind a chaotic storm of emotions he didn’t have the time or patience to sort through.

His eyes lingered on the smear of dried blood beneath her nose, the remnants of her reckless gamble. The sight of it made his stomach churn. He hadn’t had time to process it before, not when she had been collapsing in his arms, gasping for breath like she was drowning in something he couldn’t see.

She had just stopped breathing. One second she was there, her expression tight with concentration, and the next—nothing. Her body had gone limp, head lolling back, her mouth parting but no sound escaping. Then the blood had come.

He’d been helpless. Again.

Winter clenched his jaw so hard it ached. He could still feel the raw panic that had surged through him at that moment, the way he had shaken her, called her name, anything to bring her back. And when she had gasped awake, eyes unfocused, skin ghostly pale—it hadn’t been relief he felt.

It had been fury.

Not just at her, but at all of this.

At the lab that had done this to them. At Adrian and his bastards who would love to get their hands on her. Because if this was what happened when she chose to use her abilities, then he didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if she was forced to.

They would use her up until there was nothing left. Until her body broke down under the strain.

Like hell.

Winter reached out, grabbing the edge of his sleeve, and carefully wiped away the last traces of blood from Zara’s face. She didn’t stir, only shifting slightly in his arms, her face scrunching in discomfort before settling again.

His chest tightened. This is why we have to get out of here.

It was becoming clearer every day—this place wasn’t safe, not for him, not for Zara, and sure as hell not for Leo. At this point, he’d take a horde of regular zombies over the selfish bastards running things here. At least with the dead, you knew what to expect. At least with them, survival was a simple equation—stay quiet, stay armed, stay alive.

But here?

Here, survival was walking a razor-thin edge, surrounded by people who saw power as something to take and use however they wanted. People who wouldn’t hesitate to turn on each other the second it benefited them.

Winter exhaled slowly through his nose.

Carefully, he adjusted his hold and carried Zara to the bed. She barely stirred as he lowered her down onto the thin mattress, and the moment her body settled, Leo shifted in his sleep. The toddler let out a tiny, groggy sound before instinctively scooting closer to his mother, his small hands clutching at her shirt.

Zara curled around him automatically, even in sleep.

Winter’s lips twitched, just slightly.

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her damp forehead, his fingers lingering at the side of her face for a second longer than necessary.

Then he straightened. He needed to see Bale. They had to move fast, and he needed every scrap of information they could get.

He turned to leave—only to feel a small tug on his shirt.

Winter froze.

Zara’s fingers were curled around the fabric near his waist, her grip loose but insistent. Her face was still slack with exhaustion, but there was a faint crease between her brows, like even in sleep, she knew he was trying to go.

He let out a quiet sigh, dragging a hand down his face.

Yeah. Bale could wait a little longer.

Without another word, Winter climbed into bed beside them, pulling them both into his arms. Zara’s tense expression eased slightly at the warmth, and Leo snuggled deeper into her chest, safe in the cocoon of their shared warmth.

Winter held them both close, his grip firm but careful, his mind still raging, still planning.

We’re leaving. One way or another, I’ll get them out of here.