QuillMistress

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.

Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son

Zara sat cross-legged on the floor of their quarters, facing Leo as he balanced on his little feet, babbling excitedly. His curls were a tangled mess from the towel, his cheeks flushed with the enthusiasm only a three-year-old could muster.

The warm light from the overhead lamp cast long shadows, but Zara's mind was elsewhere, spinning over what Leo had been saying.

"Bigger," he said again, stretching his arms as wide as they could go. "And, and, and—brighter."

Zara nodded. "I know, baby. You told me that before."

Leo frowned, brows scrunching, like he was trying to pull something from the depths of his toddler vocabulary. His tiny hands made erratic gestures, fingers curling and unfurling. "It's... hum-hummy now."

He nodded seriously, his little face earnest. "Like... like when the walls talk."

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