The safe house was quiet, but the silence felt fragile, like it could shatter at any second. Outside, the city remained a burning ruin, smoke curling from collapsed buildings, sirens wailing in the distance. Even from a distance, I could feel the tension pressing in, a reminder that the council was far from finished with us. Damian stood by the window, muscles taut, eyes scanning the streets below. Every movement was precise, every sense alert. He didn’t speak, didn’t rest, he simply observed, anticipating the council’s next move. I stayed close, my hands pressed against my belly, feeling the twins shift. Their insistence reminded me of why survival was no longer just about me, it was about them. Chloe sat at the table, her tablet glowing in the dim light. Fingers flying across the screen, she intercepted communications, scanned security feeds, and analyzed the council’s movements. “They’re reorganizing,” she whispered. “Alpha enforcers, automated units, drones, they’re all converging
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