"Four," he repeated, low and rough. The word sounded different in his mouth; it sounded like a vow.

Voss appeared at her other side, and she felt his fingers thread into her hair, tilting her face toward him. His expression was controlled, barely, but the muscle jumping in his jaw betrayed him completely. "Whose?"

Felicity’s tail curled against the sheets.

She watched his composure fracture another millimetre and felt a wicked little thrill zip through her chest. "No idea," she said, sweet as honey. "Could be anyone’s."

Damien made a sound. His dark gaze hadn’t moved from her belly.

Ivan cleared his throat. The big man looked, she blinked, was that moisture gathering along his lower lashes? His scarred face worked through three expressions in rapid succession before settling on something fierce and protective. He stepped closer, and the mattress dipped under his weight as he sat at the edge, one enormous palm settling over her bent knee.

"Two months," Felicity added, watching all of them recalculate simultaneously. "So. Good luck, everyone."

"Two months." Voss’s hand tightened in her hair. Not painful. Possessive. "That’s..."

"Not enough time," Victor finished, already shifting into commander mode. She could practically see supply lists forming behind those red irises.

"It’s plenty of time," she countered, nudging his ribs with her elbow. "You’ve organised kills and wipes in 24 hours. You can handle a nursery."

From the doorway, Marx let out a laugh that cracked in the middle. "Four. She’s having four." His tail had gone completely still. He was so excited to be an uncle, but wait, he would rather be a stepdad...

"When six men share one woman on a nightly basis," Sarge said flatly, arms still crossed, "the math isn’t complicated."

Marx’s mouth hung open. "Fair point."

Felicity snorted, heat flooding her cheeks. Her ears pressed flat against her skull, and she buried her face against Victor’s chest to hide the blush. His arm came around her immediately, pulling her closer, and she felt the vibration of a low, satisfied rumble building in his ribs.

"Two of each," Damien murmured.

When she peeked out from Victor’s chest, his expression stole the breath from her lungs, raw and open in a way he almost never allowed. "Perfect."

"Strategically balanced," Voss added, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Ivan said nothing. He simply lifted her free hand, the one not trapped against Victor, and pressed his lips to her palm. The scratch of old scars against her skin, the press of his mouth, the way his lashes fanned dark against his weathered cheeks as he held there for one breath, two, three.

Her chest ached. Physically ached, like her ribs had become too small to contain what lived inside them.

"You’re all going to be insufferable now," she managed, and her voice came out thick. "Even more protective. Even more—"

"Yes," Victor said simply.

"Absolutely," Voss confirmed.

Damien’s tail gripped her ankle tightly.

Ivan finally lifted his head. The look he gave her—steady, burning, certain made her toes curl under the blanket. "Two months," he said. "We’ll be ready."

"We’ll be ready in two weeks," Victor corrected, and the competitive edge in his tone made Felicity laugh, bright and startled, the sound filling the room like something golden."

"Let’s get a move on," Exile said, pressing a kiss to her cheek that lingered a moment too long. He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent. "What are we, a day away from Bowral? We should move regardless."

Felicity’s tail flicked in surprise at his boldness, but she didn’t protest. The five men around her tensed, but Victor gave a subtle nod, a silent permission that spoke volumes.

Exile didn’t ask. He simply bent and swept Felicity up against his chest in one smooth motion, adjusting her weight with an ease that reminded her he was not, in any sense, human. His jaw brushed the top of her head. Around her, five sets of shoulders went rigid, then, one by one, stood down. "Bowral by sundown," he said, to no one in particular, and started slithering.

As they prepared to leave, Felicity noticed Dimitri hovering nearby, his red eyes never leaving her. He maintained a tight perimeter around her, closer than anyone else dared. No one commented on it, not even Victor with his knowing glances, not Voss with his calculating stare. They simply allowed it, as if Dimitri’s presence was already an accepted part of their strange family.

Outside, the morning air carried the scent of dew and distant rain. The road ahead was overgrown, cracked asphalt swallowed by grass and creeping vines. Exile still had her, and showed no signs of relinquishing her anytime soon, though somewhere behind them she could hear the snow team and the leaf team sorting themselves into a loose procession, and Alice’s bright voice carrying over all of it.

A blur of orange and black caught her attention. Tim, the unmated tiger beast, loped up the road in his beast form, massive paws eating up the distance. He transformed as he reached Legend and Kai, his striped fur melting into human skin. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

"Man," Tim said, running a hand through his wild hair, "last night I smelled the sweetest, most addicting thing, but I couldn’t for the life of me find it."

Legend and Kai exchanged a look, their shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. They glanced at Felicity, then back at Tim with knowing smirks.

"Alice the Ragdoll was looking for you," Kai said, his voice strained with the effort of keeping a straight face.

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Okay, weird. I’ll see what she wants."

As he bounded away, Kai and Legend doubled over, clutching their stomachs.

"Man, he’s going to have a terrible wake-up call," Legend wheezed, tears streaming down his face.

Felicity watched as Tim approached Alice, who stood with her two husbands at the back of the group. The Ragdoll’s face lit up immediately, and she broke away from her mates to run toward Tim, her white and grey fur fluffing with excitement.