Josie stood near the door, arms crossed.“I’ll stand outside the safe room doors.If anyone gets through, they’ll have to go through me before they touch the children.”
“No!”Kieran and Liam’s voices hit in unison.Both of them snapped their heads toward her, eyes wide.Josie’s glare pinned them in place.
“Why not?”she demanded, voice sharp enough to cut steel.
They blustered, tripping over half-formed excuses until Liam finally blurted, his Irish lilt thickening under the pressure, “Because you’re pregnant with our cubs!”
The room went still.For a heartbeat, only the hum of Violet’s computers filled the silence.
Gasps, murmurs—congratulations from every corner.Even Rune’s chest eased for a fraction, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.
Josie blinked, stunned.“Pregnant ...with cubs?As in plural?”
Kieran winced, exchanging a quick glance with Liam before answering, “Aye.Plural.”His gaze flicked toward the three Holt lions, as though daring them to comment.
Josie swayed, pale as parchment.“Plural,” she repeated faintly, and nearly crumpled.
Her mates were on her in an instant, guiding her to the couch.Someone thrust a glass of water into her hands.Kieran stroked her hair back from her face while Liam crouched at her feet, murmuring reassurances.
Shock still rippled through the room, but beneath it lay warmth—congratulations, pride, and a new layer of ferocity in every protective gaze turned toward Josie.
Rune watched the room fall into shape, the chaos hardening into lines of defense and offense.It wasn’t perfect—too many alphas in one space never was—but it would hold.It had to.
Inside, though, the war churned deeper.Klarissa.His mate.Every time he let himself glance at her, pale but steady beside Violet’s bank of screens, the urge to lock her away somewhere untouchable nearly swallowed him whole.But he couldn’t.She wasn’t a fragile thing to hide.She was the very reason they fought.
Kamon caught his eye, the silent bond of twins bridging thought.Protect her.Protect them all.Rune dipped his chin once, a vow made flesh.
The war was already here.And this time, Rune intended to meet it claw for claw, blood for blood.But that was for tomorrow.Tonight?Well, that was a different story.
Rune and Kamon shared a long glance, silent agreement sparking between them.Rune straightened, his voice steady as he addressed the room.“We’ll be back in the morning.We need to rest before tomorrow.”
Kamon nodded once, and together they crossed to Klarissa.Rune plucked her from her chair without warning, lifting her easily into his arms.“Hey!”she squeaked, but her giggle betrayed her delight as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
They carried her toward the elevator, ignoring the knowing smirks and murmurs from behind.As the doors slid shut, Rune and Kamon leaned close, their words a low growl of promise.They told her exactly what they intended to do to her tonight—every wicked, worshipful detail.Klarissa’s cheeks flushed, her eyes shining as she whispered her agreement.
Both men told her they loved her, voices raw with honesty.Kamon added a rough, “Thank you for giving us another chance,” while Rune pressed a kiss to her temple.
As the elevator descended, Rune’s thoughts turned inward.Their bond was still fractured, pieces broken by betrayal and loss.But tonight, with Klarissa held between them, his determination solidified like iron.They would find a way to mend it, no matter the cost, and they would not lose her again.
****
Chicago’s skyline glitteredthrough the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse suite, the city thrumming with life far below.Caruso stood with a glass of bourbon in his hand, savoring the smoky bite as though it were victory itself.His companion remained in shadow, only the gleam of his cufflinks catching the dim light.
“This is all I can do,” the man said, voice clipped with impatience.A human, but not just any—an alliance member, one of the few embedded deep in the Shifter Council.The traitor leaned forward, eyes sharp with ambition.“Tomorrow the city is yours.Everything is set.”
Caruso swirled the bourbon, a smile curving his lips.He had bled, planned, orchestrated for years.And now, Chicago would fall like the opening chord of a symphony.“Good,” he murmured.“They believe they’re ready.They aren’t.They think they know the battlefield, but I am the maestro here.I chose the stage, and they will dance to my tune.”
The traitor shifted uneasily, perhaps realizing too late the depth of the devil’s bargain he had struck.“Do not fail me, Caruso.Prestige and power—that is all I ask in return.”
Caruso turned, his smile widening as he studied the city lights.“Tomorrow, war comes to Chicago as promised.And when it does, no one—not the Pride, not the ESE—will see it coming.”
The glass lifted in a silent toast.“To tomorrow.To ridding the world of these abominations.”
