The alarm cut through silence—soft, insistent, wrong. Felicia's eyes snapped open. Her hand moved before her mind caught up, fingers closing around the knife on the nightstand.
She sat up. Swung her legs off the bed. Her bare feet hit cold floor.
The children's room. She moved fast, quiet, her pulse steady in her ears. Max lay curled on his side, breathing deep. Danny's chest rose and fell in the other bed, his wolf tucked under one arm.
She touched Max's forehead. Warm. Normal. Then Danny's. Same.
Her fingers tightened on the knife handle. She crossed to the door and cracked it open three inches. Looked out.
Damien stood in the corridor with two warriors flanking him. His head turned toward her door the second it moved. He raised one hand, palm out. Stay inside.
Felicia opened the door wider. Stepped into the corridor. Her sweater hung loose over thin sleep pants, but she didn't care.
"I won't hide if the threat is near my children." Her voice came out low, hard as stone.
Damien's jaw shifted. His hand lowered. "This isn't an order from your husband." Each word came out controlled. "It's a requirement from your Alpha. For safety."
He paused. His eyes held hers. "I'll explain everything. If you promise not to go into the yard."
Felicia's chin lifted. She nodded once. "Tell me."
She didn't lower the knife. Didn't move it out of sight.
Damien's gaze dropped to the blade, then back to her face. No reaction crossed his expression. "Someone tested the perimeter. They fled when the alarm triggered." He gestured down the corridor. "Guards are blocking the east wall now."
Felicia studied his face. The tight line of his mouth. The way his shoulders stayed tense. "I want to know these things immediately."
"Yes." No argument. No hesitation.
The alarm cut off. Silence rushed back in, thick and waiting. The warriors shifted their weight but didn't speak.
Felicia held Damien's gaze for three more seconds. Then she turned and walked back into her room. Closed the door without slamming it.
An hour passed, maybe less. The adrenaline faded slowly, leaving her wired and hollow. She couldn't sit still. Couldn't close her eyes.
She walked to the kitchen. Didn't bother changing out of her sweater. Found a glass in the cupboard and filled it at the sink; the water tasted metallic.
Footsteps sounded behind her. Not heavy. Not rushed. Just there.
Damien stopped in the doorway and kept his distance. His hands hung at his sides, empty. "Can I stay?" His voice stayed neutral, stripped of command. "To explain the security plan."
Felicia set the glass on the table. Turned to face him. "I'm listening." She pulled out a chair. "But you don't sit near me."
He moved immediately. Sat across from her. Left the entire width of the table between them. His forearms rested on the edge, fingers loose.
"There are six guards on rotation outside your wing." He kept his voice even, professional. "Two at the children's door. Two at each corridor entrance. They change every four hours."
Felicia leaned back in her chair. "What about the perimeter?"
"Twenty warriors patrol the outer wall. Ten inside. Motion sensors on every window." He met her eyes. "Anyone approaches within fifty feet, the alarm goes off."
"Who was it tonight?"
"We don't know yet." His jaw tightened. Released. "They moved fast. Knew the blind spots."
Her fingers drummed once on the table. "I want information without hiding." She didn't blink. "About every threat. Every movement. Every suspicion."
Damien's shoulders dropped half an inch. His voice came out quieter, rougher at the edges. "I won't decide for you anymore." He paused. Swallowed. "Even if it's hard."
Felicia didn't say she believed him. The words stayed locked in her throat. She looked at the empty space between them. The cold glass of water sweating onto the wood.
"Coffee." The word came out before she planned it. "For me."
His eyes widened. Just a fraction. Then he stood. Moved to the counter. His hands worked steady—opening the cupboard, measuring grounds, filling the machine.
The coffee brewed slow. The smell filled the kitchen, bitter and rich. Damien poured a cup. Brought it to the table. Set it down closer to her side.
His hand pulled back fast. Precise. Careful not to brush hers.
Felicia wrapped her fingers around the cup. Warm ceramic pressed into her palms. She didn't push it away. Didn't slide it to the middle of the table.
She took a sip. Bitter. Strong. Exactly how she needed it.
"If you want to be near," she said, her voice dropping calmer, steadier, "you'll have to withstand my rules."
Damien sat back down across from her. His eyes never left her face. "I will withstand them."
No smile. No hint of anything soft or charming. Just fact.
Felicia held the cup between both hands. The steam rose between them. She didn't stand. Didn't walk away. She stayed sitting at that table with him across from her and the untouched space between them.
The kitchen clock ticked. Outside, dawn started breaking—pale gray light creeping through the window. Damien's breathing stayed even. His hands rested flat on the table.
He didn't ask for more. Didn't push. Just sat there.
And Felicia let him. Her coffee grew cold in her hands. She didn't drink the rest. Didn't set it down either. Her eyes moved from his face to the window, then back.
"The person tonight." Her voice cut through the quiet. "They'll come back."
It wasn't a question.
Damien's jaw tightened. His fingers curled slowly against the table. "Yes."
The word hung between them. Heavy. True.
Felicia's grip on the cup tightened until her knuckles went white.