ISABELLA — THE QUIET AFTER CHAOS
For the first time in months, the world was quiet.
No alarms.
No hum of energy grids pulsing with red light.
Just the soft crackle of a dying fire, and the rhythmic crash of waves against the ruined city's shore.
Isabella sat wrapped in a torn blanket, her hands trembling as they rested over her stomach. Beneath her palms, the faintest flutter a steady, rhythmic beat reminded her that she was still not alone.
The child was still there.
Alive.
Strong.
Growing.
Sebastian moved quietly around their makeshift camp, setting broken equipment aside, checking what little ammunition and supplies they had left. His left arm was still bruised, a deep scar running down to his wrist, but his movements were precise, controlled. He hadn't slept in two days.
"Any word from Liam?" Isabella asked softly.
He shook his head. "Still unconscious. But his vitals are stable."
