The bunker feels smaller at night, like the concrete walls are closing in just a little. I’m curled up on the cot, listening to the distant crash of waves outside, but my eyes are on Cole. He’s finally asleep beside me, one arm thrown over my waist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. It’s been a long day—gearing up, waiting for Luke’s next update, trading stories to pass the time. But now, in the quiet, I can see the tension he carries even in sleep. His brow furrows, and every so often, his fingers twitch against my skin. I trace a light circle on his forearm, hoping it’ll ease whatever’s brewing in his head. “Sleep tight,” I whisper, though I know he can’t hear me. It starts small. A murmur, too low to make out. Then his body jerks, just once, like he’s dodging something invisible. I sit up slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Cole?” My voice is soft, barely above the hum of the old generator. He doesn’t wake. Instead, he mutters again—“Incoming”—and his grip on me tightens, almos
Magbasa pa
Mag-log in
