–Sophia–
Aunt Ines didn’t hesitate. The mont Livana announced the lockdown—forty-seven hours before it would be enforced—she moved us out of the laboratory without delay.
Dr. White ca with us. So did her father, Commander Dmitri White.
Everything had already been prepared.
A secluded concrete house—quiet, unassuming, yet fortified like a silent fortress. Beneath it, a panic room built of reinforced steel, fully equipped with dical machinery, stocked dicines, preserved food, and every essential needed to survive isolation.
It was a sanctuary disguised as a ho.
The journey took three hours.
But the helicopter cut through the sky smoothly, its steady hum the only thing grounding as I sat beside Kai, watching the world blur beneath us.
When we arrived, everything was ready.
Our room was on the first floor—strategically placed for easy access to the underground panic room. The house itself was pristine. Organized. Almost too perfect.
Outside, tall walls enclosed the property, guarding it like a secret. Beyond them, a quiet backyard stretched out—green, alive, with a garden and trees swaying gently in the wind.
Peaceful.
Deceptively peaceful.
"We are safe here," Aunt Ines said.
Her voice carried that sa calm authority—soft, yet absolute. Like a decree the world obeyed without question.
I left my husband in his room under Dr. White’s care, though every step away from him felt like tearing sothing fragile inside .
Still, I followed Aunt Ines.
Not through the halls—
But down.
An underground passage revealed itself, hidden and silent. A tunnel stretching forward like the throat of sothing vast and unseen.
We rode an electric mini car through it, the hum echoing softly against the walls.
Five hundred ters.
That’s how far we traveled before we reached it.
An iron door stood before us.
Massive. Unyielding.
It required a retinal scan. A handprint. A password.
Only we could enter.
One by one, she showed everything—each layer of security, each system designed not just to protect... but to control.
Inside, it was a command center.
A glass square table sat at the center, its surface patterned like a chessboard.
A war table.
Livana and Ines always played like this—strategists moving pieces across a world that never realized it was being played.
"Can you assist from ti to ti, Phia?" she asked, glancing at .
I nodded without hesitation. "I’ll be here."
She gave a small, approving smile.
We checked everything. Systems booted up one by one, screens flickering to life like awakening eyes.
"Who set all this up?" I asked, quietly awed.
"The King’s n," she replied with a faint grin.
The King’s n.
Ghosts.
No one knew their faces. No one knew where they ca from. Only Livana and Ines.
Maybe Dmitri had seen them once...
But I hadn’t.
"We built this years ago," she added. "One of our primary branches."
I looked around the monitors.
Governnt conference rooms stread live.
Global news channels played simultaneously—different languages, different countries, all unfolding at once.
The world... laid bare in front of us.
Then I turned—and froze.
Another screen lit up.
"D!" I exclaid, stepping closer.
Deanne bead at through the monitor, radiant and glowing as ever.
"Hi, girl!" she giggled, lifting the baby into view.
Aelia.
My breath softened.
"Wow... she’s beautiful," I murmured, my lips curving into a pout.
"She’s wearing a dress Alyssa designed," Deanne said proudly.
It was a delicate white baby dress, embroidered with tiny sunflowers. A small knitted sunflower headband rested gently on Aelia’s head—soft, warm, perfect.
For a mont... the world didn’t feel so heavy.
Until—
A door opened sowhere behind us.
The sound echoed.
I turned—
And froze.
Francis.
But not the Francis I knew.
He wore a different uniform now. Sharper. Darker.
And pinned to his chest—
The King’s Crest.
"What the hell, Francis?!" I snapped, marching toward him as I grabbed his arm without thinking.
Aunt Ines laughed softly behind .
"You weren’t just Damon’s security?" I demanded. "You’re one of the King’s n?"
My voice rose, disbelief burning through .
"I feel betrayed right now, Tita," I added, throwing a look at Ines.
"Hey, I was—"
"You’ve got to be kidding !" I cut him off.
We broke up years ago...
Because I was working for Livana.
And now—
Here he was.
Working for her too.
"We hired him three years ago," Ines said lightly, clearly amused. "Damon had no idea, so do not trouble yourself over it."
She chuckled softly, like this was all a delightful little twist in a ga she already understood.
"I’m going to beat you up right now," I muttered, already rolling up the sleeves of my cardigan.
Behind us, Deanne burst into laughter.
"Okay, okay," Francis said, raising his hands in surrender. "You can beat up after you give birth, alright?"
I exhaled sharply, my chest rising and falling, adrenaline buzzing through .
"Deal," I muttered under my breath.
Because right now—
I really, really wanted to hit him.
–Damon–
Three hours to go.
I watched as the kids were ushered into the panic room—sealed, controlled, secure. Inside, bodies already waited.
Not real.
Doubles.
Crafted to match Andro, Sky, Zen, and Zay down to their size, their posture, even the illusion of breath.
Convincing enough to fool a predator from a distance.
Livana crouched in front of Sky, kissing his face again and again, whispering to him to stay put. He pouted, small fingers gripping her clothes.
He didn’t want her to go.
I understood that too well.
But ti is a ruthless thing.
The doubles moved quickly, heading for the vans. I stayed where I was, waiting for her—always waiting for her.
We sealed the panic room.
Locked.
Final.
I handed the gadgets to the doubles, each piece deliberate, each function calculated.
Then I pulled my wife into my arms and kissed her.
Possessive.
Grounding.
"I hate it," I muttered against her lips.
"We need to go now."
No hesitation. No weakness.
Only purpose.
She lifted Sky’s dummy, the hood shadowing its face. I carried Andro’s—his jacket, his scent still faint, familiar enough to tighten sothing in my chest.
We headed straight for the van.
Above us, a drone hovered—watching, recording, waiting.
But from that angle, they’d only see silhouettes.
Parents carrying children.
Not lies.
Not strategy.
Once we pulled out of the driveway, the mansion shut down completely. Lights out. Systems locked. Two guards remained behind in their barracks, the dogs still roaming the grounds.
Layers of security.
But I already knew—
We were being watched far beyond that gate.
I took Livana’s hand as we sat in the backseat. I pulled her down against my chest, holding her there like I could anchor her to while Cai drove.
"Did you kiss Deanne and Lea enough?" I asked.
"It’s not enough, bro," he murmured. "But we’re out of ti."
"I’m sorry."
I caught his reflection in the rearview mirror—he smiled anyway.
"Family first. Their safety first."
I leaned back, letting that settle.
Now I understand.
Why Livana doesn’t want the girls pregnant too soon.
Sophia is already pregnant—grounded.
Deanne just gave birth... and now Livana is pregnant again.
Too many risks.
Too many lives to protect.
My hand slid over Livana’s stomach, slow, careful. She adjusted closer, fitting into like she belongs there.
Because she does.
I reclined the seat, letting her settle against . The drive stretched for hours—long, quiet, controlled.
We repeated the drill upon arrival at the Blackwell Residence. The dummies were placed in Sky’s room without delay.
Then I pulled her with .
To our bedroom.
"It’s been a long ti since I brought you here," I murmured. "Our bedroom."
She looked around, amused.
"This was supposed to be your manly space... but you really renovated it like this?"
"Yes," I said simply. "All for my wife."
If she only knew.
When we eloped, I had Alyssa design everything. Even asked my mother to oversee the renovations before I brought her ho.
Every detail—
For her.
Because I love her that much.
Enough to ruin myself for her.
Enough to beco sothing darker.
If I could lock her in this room—keep her safe from everything that breathes outside—
I would.
And if anything ever happens to her—
I won’t survive it.
"Don’t get hurt, my love," I murmured, kissing her forehead. "I might not survive that again."
She wrapped her arms around my waist.
And for a mont—
I felt sothing rare.
Protected.
"Stay with ," she whispered.
My grip tightened slightly.
"Always," I breathed.
Her soft laugh—light, girlish—cut through everything.
God.
That sound alone takes back.
High school.
Watching her from afar.
Wanting her.
Guarding her without permission.
Or maybe... with silent acceptance.
Every glance.
Every small smile.
That was enough for back then.
Now—
She’s mine.
We held each other, slow and careful, like ti itself had paused just for us. I kissed her—morizing, grounding, needing.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you more, Livana."
My lips traced along her jaw, down to her neck, holding her close—wanting to rge her into , to erase the space between us.
She pulled back gently, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
"I’m going to get ready."
I followed her to the bathroom.
I won’t leave her.
Not now. Not ever, if I can help it.
I made sure the floor was dry. Safe. No chance of slipping.
I took care of her—slow, attentive, deliberate. Washing her hair, drying it, smoothing lotion over her skin, then helping her into her suit.
Custom-built.
Reinforced from her stomach to her back.
Protection layered into fabric.
I wrapped my arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her head.
"Call ," I murmured. "Okay?"
She nodded, placing her engagent ring into her jewelry box, leaving only our platinum bands on her left ring finger.
A quiet vow.
Unbreakable.
I held her tighter when the knock ca.
"Liva, we need to go," Jane called.
"Two minutes," Livana replied, reaching for her briefcase.
I took it from her.
Heavy.
Of course it is.
She turned to , pressing her hands against my chest.
"Take care, okay? I’ll monitor your location."
I nodded.
Then kissed her.
One more ti.
I walked her downstairs, every step controlled—but heavier than it should be.
She put on her hat. Her coat.
Armor disguised as elegance.
The car was already waiting.
Logan took the briefcase from , placing it at the back.
Caine waved, then pulled Livana, Jane, and Logan into a tight hug.
"Call us, okay?" he said, overly dramatic.
Livana chuckled—and hugged him back.
Rare.
Too rare.
He held her a second too long.
I tapped him.
Enough.
My phone beeped.
Sharp. Imdiate.
Red alert.
The Shadows are moving.
Which ans—
It’s on.
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