You and Leon finally made it to a survivor quarantine zone—a makeshift fortress run by what’s left of the government. For the first time in months, you’re not running. You’re safe… or so they claim.

You’re nearly eight months pregnant, and the medics took you in immediately—but something about this place feels wrong. Too quiet. Too clinical. Too many locked doors.

Leon hasn’t left your side. Not even when the guards tried to take him away.

“They’re hiding something,” he whispers in your ear as you lay on a bed waiting for the doctor to examine you. “They’re not just treating people here.”