The Safe Zone - Reckoning (Book 2)

Prologue: A Betrayal of Trust

Nora:

I sat at the head of the table, my hands folded neatly in front of me, and I watched them. The founders of the Safe Zones—visionaries, survivors, and leaders—sat around me in varying states of unease. Some tried to hide their anxiety, shifting in their seats or pretending to study the documents before them. Others wore their anxiety openly, like a heavy cloak they couldn't shed. I could feel the tension, thick and electric, hanging in the stale air of the bunker.

Good.

I wanted them to feel that tension. I needed them to understand the gravity of the situation. We were on the brink of something monumental that would decide the fate of the Safe Zones—and the world—forever. And they weren't ready for it.

But I was.

I had spent years getting to this point, positioning myself, making sure that when the time came, I would be in control and that we would be in power. The Directive had always been more than just a survival plan; it was a plan for order, for stability. We needed to be more than just survivors in the world's chaos outside. We needed to be the architects of a new society, a stronger society. And that meant making hard choices.

Only some people were prepared to make those choices.

I glanced down the table at Carter; his hands balled into tight fists on the surface before him. His face was pale, his jaw clenched. He was always so noble and concerned with doing the right thing, making him predictable and easy to manipulate.

Sitting across from him, Rena kept glancing at me, her lips pressed into a thin line. She was anxious, her fingers tapping softly against the table. Rena had always been practical and focused on logistics for food distribution and resource management. She understood scarcity better than most, but I knew she was uncomfortable with what was coming.

None of them understood what needed to be done.

I let the silence stretch out a little longer, savoring it. I had learned long ago that silence could be as powerful as words. Let them squirm. Let them feel the weight of the decisions we were about to make.

Finally, I spoke, calm and steady, cutting through the tension like a blade.

"We all know why we're here," I began, eyes sweeping over the room, meeting each of their gazes. "The Directive has been in place for months. It's time we finalize the details and ensure that every Safe Zone follows the same protocol."

Carter shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. I knew he would try to speak up soon enough. He couldn't help himself.

"The Directive," I continued, "is our best chance of survival. The world outside the Safe Zones is beyond saving. We all agreed on that when we established these walls. What we're doing here isn't just about survival—it's about rebuilding, about ensuring that humanity has a future."

I paused, letting the words sink in. "But to do that, we have to be realistic. We can't save everyone. The resources are limited. The Safe Zones are stretched thin. We will fail if we continue trying to protect everyone who shows up at our gates. We have to prioritize the people who can contribute. The people who can help us rebuild."

There it was—the heart of the Directive, the plan we had been quietly, methodically working toward for months. The others had known this was coming, but hearing it spoken aloud—hearing the cold, hard truth—was different.

Rena's eyes flicked to the side, avoiding my gaze. Carter shifted again, his hands tightening into fists. I waited, knowing what was coming.

"You're talking about abandoning people," Carter said, his voice low but full of tension. His eyes met mine, challenging me. "About deciding who gets to live and who doesn't. That's not what we agreed to when we started this."