Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 207

Chapter 207: 207

The door exploded inward with a bang like a cannon shot, ricocheting off the adjacent wall.

Standing near the opposite wall, shackled hands clenched at her sides, was Zara.

She flinched at the sudden violence, her back hitting the cold concrete behind her.

Her hair was tangled, eyes bloodshot, clothes torn at the sleeves from struggling. But she was alive. Bruised and furious—but alive.

Her frame was tense, shoulders hunched, eyes wild and disbelieving—until they landed on him.

Her breath caught.

"Winter!"

In three long, furious strides, he was in front of her. No words, just motion. His hands found her arms—gentle. She collapsed into him, fists clutching at the fabric of his shirt like she needed to anchor herself to something solid before she unraveled completely.

"They took him!" Her voice broke. "He was scared, and I couldn’t—!"

"I know." His voice came low and raw. "I know. We’ll get him back. I promise you that."

Her breath hitched against his neck, body trembling against him as if only now remembering how to feel safe. He held her tighter.

Then she leaned back just enough to grab his face between her palms, her thumbs brushing the dirt and blood smudged across his cheekbones. Her eyes were searching, frantic.

"Are you hurt?"

Winter managed a broken smile, small and sharp. "Nope." He exhaled like it hurt. "I should be asking you that."

His gaze dropped automatically to her body, scanning her with the desperation of someone who couldn’t afford to miss a detail. No major wounds. No blood. No limping. No trembling hands—until he saw her wrists.

Winter’s expression darkened.

He reached down to the small keyring clipped to his belt—taken from one of the guards he’d dropped on the way in—and found the right key in seconds. The click of the cuffs unlocking was barely audible over his pounding pulse. Cold steel fell to the floor with a metallic clatter.

Her hands dropped, freed, the skin raw and bruised from hours of restraint. He caught her wrists gently, thumbs brushing along the angry red grooves the cuffs had left behind.

But then—he froze. His eyes narrowed as they moved slowly up from her wrists to her face. And there it was.

A red, raw imprint bloomed across her cheek. Fingers. A hand. Recent. Too fresh to be from earlier chaos. It stood out like a brand—bright, swollen, humiliating.

His entire body went still, breath halting, then his voice dropped. "That mark. Who touched you?"

Zara hesitated.

"Zara..."

Her jaw clenched. "Adrian."

Winter’s head tilted slightly—like he hadn’t heard her right.

Then he laughed. A single, humorless sound. "Adrian?"

The breath he took afterward was sharp, dangerous. His entire body coiled with violence.

"That bastard put his hands on you?"

Zara gave a tired nod. "He came in here after Leo went missing. Ranted. Said this was my fault for turning you against him. Then—" she motioned to her cheek. "He snapped."

Winter stepped back, eyes blazing, fury pouring off him in molten waves. His fists clenched, knuckles white with pressure. He turned like a man possessed, already moving toward the door, every intention clear in his lethal gait.

"I’ll kill him."

Zara’s hand snapped out, grabbing his.

"Winter—no."

"He touched you." His voice cracked like thunder. "He hit you."

"Listen to me..."

"He’s dead," he said flatly. "I swear to God, Zara, I’m going to snap his fucking neck."

Zara pressed a hand to his chest, steadying him. "I know," she said, voice tight. Then she grabbed his face, eyes locked to his. "Winter. Leo."

The name pulled him back like a hook in his spine. He blinked hard—twice.

Right.

The kid.

That was the mission.

He exhaled once, sharply. "Did they hurt him?"

"I don’t know." Her voice wavered. "Adrian came by a few minutes ago. Said they can’t find him."

Winter’s heart punched against his ribs.

Right, that’s why the whole place was in chaos. They lost Leo.

He nodded slowly, jaw tight. "Then we’re getting him back."

"Do you know where—?"

"Not yet," he said, scanning the corridor behind him. "But I’ll find out."

Zara grabbed his wrist.

"Then let’s go."

There was no more hesitation in her now. No panic. Just fire.

Together, they slipped into the hallway, shadows closing behind them as they vanished into the smoke.

*****

The halls were chaos.

Sirens screamed in red pulses across the metallic walls, flashing warnings and orders.

Winter kept his grip tight on Zara’s wrist as they ran.

They didn’t speak much. There was no time.

"We get Leo," Winter muttered, voice low and ragged, "and we run. Straight to Sector Two. The rest should have gotten out by now. We rendezvous with them and get out of this fucking hell hole."

Zara didn’t argue. Her breath came in sharp bursts, but her eyes burned with focus as she nodded.

They skidded around a corner—and froze.

Voices.

Two guards up ahead. One pacing, the other looking winded.

"They’re saying the kid’s gone from Room 12-C," the winded one said. "North wing. Little shit slipped them somehow."

"Room 12-C?" The other scoffed. "That’s in the smaller containment quadrant. If he’s out, it’s no wonder Adrian is losing his mind."

Zara and Winter exchanged a look.

North wing. Room 12-C.

Winter’s heart slammed in his chest. Without another word, they took off, boots pounding as they veered right and hurtled down the hall.

The path to the North Wing was a minefield. They stuck to the walls, ducking behind crates and tall tanks of God-knows-what.

Winter led the way, eyes sharp, constantly scanning. Zara, even disheveled and shaken, moved like fire behind him—fast, agile, hungry for war.

They moved fast, silent and lethal through the winding hallways. The compound was a war zone—alarms screamed overhead, red warning lights flickered across the walls like a heartbeat, and smoke slithered from a broken pipe somewhere down the corridor.

Zara tucked herself behind Winter’s flank, now holding the sidearm he’d ripped off a fallen guard minutes earlier. Her grip was steady. Her eyes were not afraid.

Winter took point, a blur of elbows and knees and broken limbs.

One guard came running; Winter caught him by the collar, slammed him into the wall, and dropped him with a sharp blow to the neck.

They ducked behind a corner as another pair came around from the other direction. Zara popped up and dropped both with clean shots—one to the temple, the other square between the eyes. Her breathing didn’t even quicken.

Another turn. Another hallway slick with footprints and chaos. They ducked into a side corridor and crouched low.

Winter pulled Zara close, breathing steady against her temple. Her hands were shaking with fury.

"Hang on," he whispered. "Just a little longer."

She nodded, jaw tight.

When the hall finally opened up into the North Wing, they broke into a sprint, ignoring the stitch in their sides and the building heat in their limbs. The sterile environment here was quieter—fewer guards, more closed doors.

The kind of place they didn’t want anyone to see.

They found Room 12-C fast.

The door was open.

Winter’s stomach dropped. That wasn’t right.

Zara shoved the door fully open and bolted inside. Her eyes scanned the shadows, heart thunderous in her chest.

"Leo?" Her voice was a desperate whisper. "Leo?!"

No answer.

She turned in a circle, panic rising fast, mouth going dry.

"Where is he—? No. No, no, no—"

She dropped to her knees, shaking, breath ragged. Her palms pressed into the concrete floor, grounding herself against the spiral.

Winter knelt beside her and laid a steady hand on her back.

But then—

Something clicked in her mind.

Zara sat bolt upright.

"Wait—I’m so stupid! His space."

She scrambled to her feet, scanning the shadows again—this time with knowing eyes.

"Leo, baby," she called softly, voice trembling, "It’s mama."

Winter chimed in. "Kiddo? You there, bud?"

Zara looked at him and he nodded encouragingly.

"Leo? It’s Winter, buddy. We’re here. Can you hear us?"

Zara pressed a hand over her heart and whispered, "Come out, little lion. Please. I missed you so much."

Silence. And then—

A shimmer.

Like heatwaves on pavement, a shape resolved from thin air. Faint and translucent at first, then solidifying into a tiny form.

Messy brown curls. Brown eyes swimming with tears. A trembling lower lip. "Mommy..." Leo sobbed.

Zara lunged forward and swept him into her arms. She crushed him to her chest, her hands gripping the back of his shirt like she never wanted to let go again.

He clung to her with tiny arms wrapped tight around her neck. "I—I was hiding," he hiccupped. "I—I didn’t know what to do. I got lost and—and I couldn’t get back—"

Zara kissed his temple, one hand smoothing his curls. "You did so good, baby. So good. You stayed safe. Mommy’s soproud of you."

Leo’s fingers dug into her jacket. "I was scared... You didn’t come..."

She choked down her sobs. "I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I came as fast as I could."

Winter dropped beside them, resting on one knee, and smiled gently. "Hey, buddy."

Leo peeked out from the crook of his mother’s neck. His eyes widened. "Uncle!"

He reached a tiny hand out. Winter caught it, clasping it in his larger one.

"Told you I’d come get you, didn’t I?"

Leo nodded, but his brow furrowed when he saw Winter’s face. He reached up and gently touched the bruise on Winter’s cheekbone.

"You got hurt..."

Winter gave a soft chuckle. "Just a scratch. You should see the other guy."

Zara gently pulled Leo back to examine him, brushing his cheeks, his arms, his legs. "Are you hurt? Did anyone touch you?"

Leo shook his head. "No. I stayed in my space."

Winter laid a steady hand on the boy’s back, nodding his approval.

Zara kissed Leo’s forehead. "Good boy."

But Winter’s gaze shot to the door again, brows drawing tight.

"We don’t have long," he muttered. "They’ll check here next."

Zara nodded. She adjusted Leo against her side, lifting him into her arms.

"We’ll get him out."

She didn’t get to take a step.

The door behind them slammed open again.