<b>Chapter </b><b>115 </b>


    <b>Noah </b>


    Elliot and Macey were out cold on the same nket. She’d fallen sideways against him somewhere between cartoon chase scene and moral–of–the–story; he’d shifted just enough. to let her settle. Fergus the bear was mashed between them like a truce g. Their hands had found each other in sleep and stayed. Envy stood with me in the doorway and watched them breathe. I could feel her decision before she said a word, steeling, then softening. Hawk pressed forward in my chest, head low, ears pricked. Protective. Content when they were both in sight.


    “I want to take him home tonight,” she whispered. “To the Underworld. It’s safer, and I’ll actually sleep if he’s under our wards.”


    “Then we do it,” I said, just as softly. I nodded toward the pair. “And we take her too.”


    Envy’s mouth tipped. “You’re sure?”


    “I’ve had big love for that pup since the day she told me my boots were ugly.” I watched Macey’sshes flutter, watched Elliot’s chest rise and fall steady as tide. “She’ll panic if he’s gone when she wakes. They stay together.<b>” </b>


    Boots scuffed behind us. Xavier came up first, quiet as a habit, with Haiden and Levi in his shadow, all three of them reading the room the way wolves do, temperature, tension, threat. There was none of thest. Only sleep and sugar and the faint metallic ghost of


    earlier.


    “We’re taking them to the Underworld,” Envy told them, still watching the nket. “Just for the night.<b>” </b>


    Xavier nodded once. “We’ll stay here, keep the rotations tight. If anything twitches, you’ll


    know.<i>” </i>


    Haiden hooked his thumbs in his pockets and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. In the blue light he looked younger, and then I remembered he used to be the kid under the nket. “I’ll keep the south patrol moving. No patterns. No easy guesses.”


    Levi tapped the frame with two fingers; the ward–lines brightened, then settled. “I’ll mirror your loft wards from here and anchor the rmttice to me and Elliot both. Inner


    <b>3 </b>


    <b>1 </b>


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    “Perfect,” I said. “I want the room to purr when he breathes.”


    A caretaker nced over, read our faces, and gave a little nod. She draped one more nket over the two lumps that were our kids, then stepped back to give us space. We moved like thieves stealing only what belonged to us. Envy went first, a practiced scoop, one arm under Macey’s knees, the other cradling her back. The girl made a tiny sound, more sigh than protest, and burrowed under Envy’s chin, Fergus crushed heroically between them. I slid my hands under Elliot and lifted. He’s taller every week, heavier with sleep and trust, and I swear my bones remembered him at half this size and asked when that had happened.


    He stirred against my corbone. “‘S it over?” he breathed, the words thistle–soft.


    “For tonight,” I murmured into his hair. “Sleep.”


    We stepped into the yard. The rebuilt stretch of fence gleamed with fresh iron caps, rune- etched and still smelling of sap. Two warriors at the gate watched us pass, their nods the


    quiet kind that say we’ve got you.


    “Call if you need us,” Xavier said. He didn’t reach for the kids. He didn’t have to. The set of his jaw said enough.


    “We will,” Envy promised, kissing each of my brother’s goodnight.


    We opened the portal together. The air curled back like a page being turned, color bleeding to shadow, heat to a cool, clean hush. The Underworld received us with that familiar low hum, kingdom heartbeat, steady and sane. For a moment, all I heard was breathing: theirs<b>, </b>mine, Envy’s, the stone. Elliot’s corridor recognized us. His door did too, Levi’s cleantticework humming under my palm, Elliot’s wild vine–work braided through it. The wards peeled back for us and settled again as we slipped inside. His room held night like a favorite song. The sky he’d made drifted, stitched with constetions and onezyet on loop. The music he’d set the walls to hum with, wind chime<b>, </b>music box, heartbeat, kept to a hush as we crossed the floor, then swelled the smallest bit in greeting. Iid Elliot on the bed<b>; </b>the mattress cupped him like a palm. Envy tucked Macey down beside him,ying Fergus on the pillow like a sentry. Without waking, Macey’s fingers searched; Elliot’s found them. Their hands stayed.


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    13:30 Wed, Sep <b>3 </b>GR


    “Keep them together,” Envy murmured, smoothing Macey’s hair, then Elliot’s. “So she


    isn’t scared when she wakes<b>.</b><b>” </b>


    “Always,” I said.


    93%


    Layah padded in, shadow fur, bright eyes and coiled at the foot of the bed, chin on the


    frame, the curve of her body making a guardrail of herself. Hawk settled against my ribs in answer, a mountain easing into ce. We warded as parents, not kings. Envy pressed her palm to the lintel; moon–pale sigils blossomed and sank, a scent–lock and a gentling charm that dulled sharp dream–edges. I fed Levi’sttice a slow thread of hellfire banked to warmth, then bled a little of my own pattern into Elliot’s, heat without scorch, teeth without bite. The room answered with a satisfied purr that vibrated the bedsidemp. Something brushed the far edge of the. Not a pry. A listening. Levi’s rune snapped once, sharp; Elliot’s vines tightened, soft. I gave the wards one more breath of fuel. The brush withdrew. The quiet settled back down. We stood there longer than we needed to, because that’s what you do when the two halves of your heartbeat are asleep in the same bed. Macey’s mouth twitched like she was tasting pepperoni again. Elliot’sshes trembled, then stilled. Theet took itszyp.


    “Do we stay?” Envy asked, voice almost not there.


    “I want to,” I admitted, and Hawk thumped his tail once in agreement. “But they sleep better when we don’t hover. We’ll be two doors down. Three breaths away.”


    She nodded. Kissed Macey’s hair. Kissed Elliot’s temple. I did the same and tucked the nket a little tighter around four small knuckles and one ridiculous bear. At the door, I looked back. Two kids. One bed. A sky that listens. A room that sings. Layah holding the


    line without moving.


    “They’re safe,” Envy said, more to herself than to me.


    “They’re safe,” I echoed, and let the door ease shut on a promise.


    In the hall<b>, </b>the kingdom kept breathing. We walked hand in hand toward our rooms, slow because we could. Behind us, the wards hummed contentment. Ahead of us, nighty clean and ordinary and for the first time since the fence splintered, I let my body believe what my mouth had just said.