–Laura–
I was so happy my heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. At the same time, my hands were trembling with a mess of emotions I couldn’t even name. My sister. My sister. She had been leaving me hints all along—and she was alive. Truly alive. But what I never expected was this.
My mom was here too.
And then it all clicked.
The soups.
The meals.
The familiar taste that wrapped around my tongue like childhood memories.
She had been in the mansion the entire time—disguised as a maid.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
She was the one who stabbed her bastard sister on the left thigh. I remembered how shaken and sad I was back then... but now? Knowing it was Mom who did it—to protect Livana—I couldn’t help it. I was happy. For both of them. Casey deserved it. Still, I never imagined they could be this savage.
Well... I did grow up with them.
I know they’re running our family’s underworld business now. Together. Mother and daughter. A terrifyingly powerful duo.
"So... are you okay now?" Damien asked softly, reaching for my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
I nodded and pouted at him. He was sitting at the edge of our bed—the one Mom designed herself, of course. He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin just below my chest as he looked up at me.
"I’m okay now," I whispered.
"Of course you are."
"I’ll be sleeping with Mom and Liva tonight," I said gently, running my fingers through his hair. "Take care of our twins."
He froze.
Then he stared at me with those ridiculous puppy eyes.
"Hey," he protested softly. "We can sleep together every night until the end of our days."
"Okay, fine," he said dramatically—then leaned in, sliding his head beneath my shirt and burying his face against me, slowly traveling upward until I felt him nuzzle against my chest.
I giggled immediately. His stubble tickled, his nose brushed my skin, and his kisses made me squirm.
"Alright," I tapped his shoulder, laughing. "I thought you wanted a break today."
"But you always get what you want," he replied smugly, pulling back just enough to grin at me. "I work out for a reason, my love."
He lifted his shirt like he was presenting evidence.
And... wow.
Yes. Evidence accepted.
I grinned and lifted my own shirt teasingly.
"Well then," I said playfully, "I suppose I deserve some appreciation."
He burst out laughing and dropped back onto the bed.
Honestly, he can be so annoying—and I live for it. We annoy each other. Constantly. We’re best friends before anything else, and that’s what makes us us.
"Alright," I declared, reaching into my duffel bag and pulling out the small pouch with the dice. "Let’s roll the dice."
His eyebrow shot up.
I jogged to the door, locked it, then jumped back onto the bed, straddling him dramatically.
"Mamiiii!"
We both froze.
I sighed deeply, resting my forehead against his chest.
"Mamiiii!" Our little princess knocked on the door again.
Before either of us could move, my mom’s voice floated in.
"Zen-Zen, come here, baby. I’ve got more dolls for you. Mommy is sleeping."
Of course she knew.
Of course she did.
"Dolls!" Zen-Zen squealed happily, her footsteps scampering away.
I exhaled in relief and glanced at Damien, who looked torn between laughter and surrender.
"We should hurry," he murmured, rolling the dice out of habit. BJ... "We can skip that. I..."
"We never did that."
"You did attempt but," He reached my face. "You are not made for that."
I rolled my eyes.
"You were always between my legs."
"I was made to please you." His kiss was enough to melt me. "You are mine and I’ll be your sexy slave..."
I giggled.
"Just a sex slave."
I snorted. "Later."
He leaned in and kissed me softly—slow, grounding, familiar.
And that was enough.
More than enough.
That was how our late afternoon began—wrapped in relief, laughter, love, and the comforting knowledge that our family, no matter how dangerous or complicated, was finally whole again.
–Jane–
I helped set up Ines’s room with more pillows, layering comfort over strategy. The husbands, unsurprisingly, insisted on sleeping in the same space as their wives. The babies were far more entertained—thick mattresses spread across the floor, satin sheets turned into makeshift tents. Ines’s idea of claiming the largest room and turning it into a family space worked perfectly.
The television was on. They were settling in for a movie marathon, laughter already drifting through the room.
"Jane, thank you," Livana said softly.
That was my cue.
Time to disappear.
It was still early. We’d had dinner ahead of schedule, and Livana and Aunt Ines had already prepared the night snacks. Logan, on the other hand, had stocked the mini fridge with drinks—and then, without warning, pulled me with him and shut the door behind us.
He grinned.
"Want a massage?"
I rubbed my shoulder, feeling the ache settle deeper than muscle.
"Yeah. I really need that."
"How about roaming tonight?"
I raised a brow.
"We have dogs for that."
"Oh." He snapped his fingers. "Right. They need treats."
Outside, the night air was cool and quiet. Logan pulled out his dog whistle—silent to human ears but unmistakable to its intended audience. Ten dogs patrolled the property. Ten more guarded the lair beyond this place.
We fed them treats, checked their harnesses, replaced batteries on their body cameras. The system was Lore and her parents’ design—enhanced range, live feeds, freedom built into the protocol. The dogs could roam, play, eat, and sleep.
The alpha, the biggest of them all, paced restlessly. He hated being idle. If Sky were here, he’d already be climbing onto his back, fearless and laughing. Choco had grown just as big over the years—and Sky loved them both equally.
Logan reached for my hand, grinning.
"No," I said, shaking my head.
He pulled me anyway, backing me into a shadowed corner, pinning me gently but firmly.
"Alright," he murmured. "I know you’re tired..."
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him first—harder than intended. We didn’t care about the cameras. He already knew where they didn’t reach. Behind the trees, away from the lenses, the world narrowed to heat and breath and the kind of closeness that silences thought.
By the time we returned, my legs felt weak. He carried me without asking, as if it were natural, as if it were expected. Somewhere between the bathroom steam and the softness of clean sheets, I let myself surrender.
I barely registered the bath he’d prepared. Barely noticed being dried, dressed, guided. I wanted sleep—real sleep.
But Logan had other plans.
The bed was arranged with blankets and oil. He told me to lie down. I already knew where this was going—but I didn’t protest. The massage was slow, deliberate, and indulgent. His hands worked away the tension piece by piece, until my thoughts blurred and my body softened completely.
Pleasure bled into exhaustion.
Exhaustion into quiet.
Sex with Logan wasn’t what I’d imagined it would be.
It didn’t fracture me.
It didn’t sharpen the nightmares.
It stilled me.
I hadn’t sleepwalked once since I let him in like this. Not since I decided—very deliberately—to use him as an anchor.
He dressed me in one of his shirts and lay behind me, tablet in hand.
"The dogs are fine," he murmured, arm draped possessively around me.
Then he said a name I hadn’t heard in years.
"Emilia."
"Hmm?" I barely managed.
"Lia," he whispered. "You’re beautiful."
I didn’t have the energy to argue. Or correct him. Or deny the warmth curling in my chest.
"I want to sleep inside you," he muttered.
"What?" I frowned, realizing far too late that he hadn’t fully let go of his intentions.
I protested. Weakly.
He didn’t listen.
What followed was hazy—too much sensation layered over exhaustion. I remember water pressed to my lips. His weight. A vibration that pulled me back from the edge of sleep only to send me spiraling again.
"I’m tired," I mumbled, pushing at him.
"I’m not," he chuckled. "But I’ll sleep how I want."
I didn’t even hear what position he meant.
I just fell—hard—into the deepest sleep I’d ever known.
When I woke, my body felt heavy. Sore. Too aware.
And then I realized—
"Fuck, Logan," I hissed.
He didn’t wake. His arm tightened reflexively.
"Logan!" I smacked his chest. "Why would you do that?"
"It was comfortable," he murmured, kissing my shoulder lazily.
Then reality hit.
No protection.
"Fuck!" I scrambled out of bed, fury igniting through the fog. I washed quickly, hands shaking, tore through the medicine cabinet until I found what I needed. I swallowed the pills dry, chased them with water.
Something warm slid down my thigh.
"You asshole!" I stormed back in, hitting him with a pillow.
He just laughed—and then pulled me in, kissed me gently.
I hated that part the most.
The tenderness.
No.
I didn’t want that.
Except... I did.
I needed it.
I just didn’t want to need it.