Chapter 93:
"Containment breach on the west side!"
Zara tensed, keeping Leo close. What the hell was happening now? Weren’t they supposed to be in a safe space?
She pressed her back against the wall, her ears straining for any sound from outside. Her heart was racing, her fingers gripping Leo’s small frame protectively. Winter stood by the door, his rifle held tightly, every muscle in his body coiled and ready to strike. The commotion from earlier—the shouts, the thudding boots, and distant gunfire—had sent a ripple of unease through her.
Now there was silence. It should have been reassuring, but the stillness felt heavy, oppressive. Winter’s sharp gaze darted to Zara, and she could tell he was just as on edge. She hugged Leo closer, whispering softly into his hair to calm him, though her own fear was palpable.
After what felt like an eternity, Winter finally exhaled, his posture relaxing just slightly. "It’s quiet now," he said, though his voice was still low and tense.
Zara nodded, loosening her grip on Leo and letting him sit on the bed. "Maybe it’s over," she said, more to herself than to Winter.
Winter glanced at the door, then back at Zara. "We’ll stay alert. Just in case." He set the rifle down within arm’s reach but didn’t stray far from it.
Leo, oblivious to the tension between the adults, bounced lightly on the edge of the bed, his wide eyes taking in the room around him. Zara followed his gaze, using the moment to really notice their new surroundings.
The room was small and functional, with just enough space for a narrow bed pushed against one wall, a chair, and a metal table bolted to the floor. The walls were a dull, faded gray, with faint scuff marks that spoke of years of wear. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a dim but steady glow over the room. A shelf above the bed held a few neatly folded blankets and some basic toiletries—a bar of soap, a toothbrush, and a small towel. It wasn’t much, but it was more than she’d had in weeks.
Leo crawled to the edge of the bed, his little hands exploring the coarse blanket beneath him. Zara reached over, brushing some dust off his knees. "Careful, baby," she murmured, though her tone was softer now.
Winter leaned against the wall opposite her, his arms crossed, his eyes distant again. Zara studied him for a moment, wondering what was going through his mind, but before she could ask, a sharp knock at the door startled them both.