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

The shaft groaned as Zara crawled forward, her palms scraping against the ribbed metal surface. Every movement echoed, magnified by the vent's tight walls and the chaos pulsing through the facility beyond.

Red light strobed through the grates above, casting flickering shadows that stretched like claws along the tunnel. The alarm continued to wail in a pulsing rhythm—WEEE-OOO. WEEE-OOO.

"Mama," he whispered, barely audible over the noise. "What's that noise?"

Zara didn't stop crawling. Her knees ached, her elbows bruised, but she forced a soft smile. "It's just a game, sweetheart," she murmured. "Remember? Quiet as mice."

"Okay." Leo nodded, face pale but resolute. His voice was so soft. Trusting.

She turned her attention back to the shaft. Her breath was hot against the metal, the air stifling. Sweat slid down her spine, dampening the shirt that clung to her skin.

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