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I flip the contract face-down, but the damage is done. "It's a practical investment. Safe location, adequate security features⁠—"

"Two-car garage and a modern kitchen with a walk-in closet in the master suite." Kellan counts off features on his fingers, clearly having memorized more than the header. "Very practical. Nothing says 'reformed lone wolf' like granite countertops and a garden tub."

"The property has strategic advantages. Clear sightlines and multiple escape routes with magical wards already in place⁠—"

"Does it have a white picket fence? Please tell me there's a white picket fence."

I level him with a stare that used to make pack members reconsider their life choices. "There's a wrought iron security fence with motion sensors."

"Even better. Nothing says 'happily mated' like motion sensors and a two-car garage." Kellan props his feet on my desk, immune to intimidation after years of friendship. "What's next? Joint checking accounts or matching coffee mugs? Are you going to start wearing cardigans?"

"I'm going to start wearing your blood if you don't⁠—"

"Ooh, does Serenity know about the house yet? Or are you planning some grand romantic gesture? Rose petals and a candlelit dinner where you declare, 'Rene, darling, I bought us a fortress of domestic bliss'?"

The mental image of Serenity's face if I actually tried rose petals and candlelit declarations makes me snort. She'd probably hex me into next week for the sheer presumption.

"She's signing the paperwork today. It's a business decision based on mutual security needs and⁠—"

"And you're head-over-heels in love with the most dangerous witch in Chicago, so you bought her a house with a garden tub." Kellan's smirk reaches insufferable levels. "Face it, Morvane. You've been domesticated. Next thing I know, you'll be asking me to help you pick out curtains."

I gather the scattered documents into a neat stack, refusing to acknowledge how accurate his assessment might be. The house does have excellent natural light. Serenity mentioned once that she missed having room for her herb garden. The kitchen is large enough for two people to work without constantly bumping into each other, which seems important given how often our arguments migrate to whatever room has the most counter space for dramatic gesturing.

"Go next door and get Serenity. She needs to review the insurance clauses and sign the disclosure forms," I slide the contracts into a manila folder, maintaining professional dignity despite Kellan's continued grinning. "And keep your observations about domestic bliss to yourself, Ro."

Kellan springs from his chair with barely contained glee. "Oh, this is going to be fun. Should I mention the garden tub specifically or save that detail for maximum impact?"

"Kellan."

"The motion sensors and the two-car garage? Or the fact that you spent twenty minutes yesterday researching the best fertilizer for lunar herbs?"

My primal instincts itch to remind him exactly why pack hierarchy exists, but Kellan's already backing toward the door with his hands raised in mock surrender.

"Fine, fine. I'll behave…mostly." He pauses at the threshold, expression softening into something resembling sincerity. "For what it's worth, I'm happy for you both. You deserve this."

The door closes behind him before I utter a word, and suddenly I’m alone with purchase agreements and the strange realization that domestic bliss might not be the worst fate imaginable.

Serenity appears in the doorway moments after Kellan's departure, accessing the office like she scans every room—cataloging exits and threats while locating the nearest source of coffee. Her dark hair falls loose around her shoulders today, and she's traded her usual leather jacket for a soft gray sweater that makes her look almost domesticated.

Without preamble, she crosses to my desk and plops onto my lap like it's the most natural thing in the world. This habit started three weeks ago when we were reviewing security footage together, and she claimed the chair was uncomfortable. Now she does it whenever we need to look at something on my computer, and I've stopped pretending to mind.

She shifts to face the laptop screen, her back against my chest. "Kellan said something about paperwork and was grinning like an idiot the entire time. What did you do?"

I open the photo folder, bypassing her question in favor of something more important. "House photos."

Her posture straightens with interest as the first image fills the screen—a wide shot of stone and timber nestled against rolling hills. The architecture blends modern security features with classic craftsmanship, all clean lines and reinforced windows that don't look like fortress walls.

"Two stories and four bedrooms." I click through exterior shots, watching her expression in the laptop's reflection. "The basement has climate-controlled storage for sensitive materials—plenty of room for the surviving books and furniture Kellan helped salvage from your Lincoln Park apartment—plus a reinforced panic room with independent power supply."

"Very romantic." But her voice is soft, carrying genuine warmth, and she leans back against me as I scroll to interior photos.

The kitchen appears next—granite counters and professional-grade appliances surrounding an island large enough for two people to work without territorial disputes. Serenity makes a soft sound of approval when she sees the herb garden visible through the breakfast nook windows.

"The backyard is fully warded with motion sensors and perimeter alarms." I advance to photos of the spacious master suite, then pause at the image I spent the most time considering. "This room faces east for morning light, but there's also a separate section in the basement specifically designed for magical practice."

The underground chamber fills the screen—stone walls carved with protective symbols surrounding a raised dais in the center, with ventilation systems capable of handling volatile magical energies. I researched the construction requirements for weeks, consulting with three different ward specialists to ensure the space would contain even unstable selenic energy while keeping the house’s foundation entirely secure.

Serenity freezes against me. "You built me a ritual chamber."