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Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son

You’d think seeing the future would give me a head start on surviving the apocalypse. I had it all planned—until everything I knew shattered when my husband sacrificed himself to save me and our son. Now it’s just me, my three-year-old son Leo, and my cursed gift of foresight that only seems to kick in when it’s nearly too late. I’m doing my best to keep us safe, to find food, to make some kind of plan— “Mommy?” I glance down, trying to ignore the tug on my pant leg as I focus on our supplies. “Not now, Leo. Mommy’s thinking.” “Mommy!” I sigh and finally look down. My three-year-old is standing there, clutching… I blink. “Leo, where did you get a knife?” He shrugs, grinning like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My heart stutters. “No, really. Where did you find that?” I try not to laugh. I mean, he’s three. Maybe he just—found it somewhere? But the next day, it’s a water bottle. Then, a tiny flashlight, somehow with batteries still inside. I don’t even know what else; he’s pulling things out one by one with the pleased grin of a kid who’s just figured out his favorite game. Well, we may just survive this mess after all. Now, if only the universe could have spared me from him. I don’t even know his name, but I know his type: tall, broad, and annoyingly handsome, with an air of calm control that’s out of place in this chaos. Ex-military, if I had to guess, with a voice that’s just as infuriating as his smirk. The man has a habit of showing up at the worst—or best—possible times, with a gun at the ready and secrets buried as deep as those bright green eyes. I mean, he’s probably useful, but I’m trying to keep my eyes on the prize here: survival. For Leo and me. Because, foresight or no foresight, nothing is guaranteed in this new world—except the fact that people like him are trouble.

QuillMistress · Ficção Científica
Classificações insuficientes
60 Chs

54: A World of Doubts

The icy wind howled across the ruins of City B, tearing at Winter's coat as he approached the cache site. 

What had once been an abandoned bunker had transformed into a battleground—a swirling storm of fists, powers, and greed. Winter stood on the edge of the scene, cloaked in his thick, dark coat, his piercing green eyes scanning the melee below.

He let out a breath, his lips curling into a thin, humorless smile. Perfect. The chaos below was exactly what he had hoped for. Fewer eyes would be on him as he slipped in and took what he needed. With luck, there would still be enough left for him and his squad to survive the bitter winter ahead.

Without hesitation, Winter dropped into the bunker. His boots hit the ground with a soft thud, barely audible over the cacophony of shouts and the clash of improvised weapons. He moved quickly, weaving through the fray with ease.