The light that filtered through the cracks in the bunker’s reinforced shutters was pale and clean—a hesitant dawn that felt new, fragile, and untested.

For the first time in months, Hale woke not to sirens, gunfire, or the metallic shriek of collapsing infrastructure. He woke to the sound of quiet breathing. The kind that belonged to people who’d survived.

Evelyn was still asleep beside him, curled on the makeshift cot, the faint hum of the generators painting her skin with a soft amber ...