The sunlight filtered softly through the heavy drapes of the master suite, golden and warm. The air still carried faint remnants of heat and scent, but the storm had passed.
The house was silent.
Max stirred first.
His eyes opened slowly, heavy from days of heat-induced bonding. His body ached—not from pain, but from being thoroughly claimed and having claimed in return. He looked down at the tangle of limbs beside him.
Noah was curled against Sam, both of them sleeping soundly. Sam's face was peaceful, though dried tears still streaked his cheeks.
Lucien was at the foot of the bed, his breathing steady.
And beside him—Silas.
Max reached over and touched Silas's shoulder gently. His twin stirred, eyes fluttering open. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then Silas leaned in and kissed Max's temple softly."We made it," Silas murmured.
Max nodded. "But it's not over."
They both leaned down to press soft kisses on Sam's forehead, careful not to wake him.
"Rest," Max whispered. "We'll handle this."
Then they rose from the bed, dressed quietly, and left the room.
---
The sitting room on the main floor was tense with quiet conversation.
Elias Enigma, Robert Vincent, Dr. Miller, and Queen Anderson sat in the center, drinks untouched, eyes shadowed with worry.
James and Oliver had returned to the Anderson estate to give the others space. But the family remained.
When Max and Silas stepped in, the conversation halted.
Leo—Papa Leo—stood first, relief blooming on his face.