The space had settled into a strange kind of stillness that did not feel like rest.
It was quiet, but not empty the air carried warmth, the lingering weight of bodies too close together for too long, the slow rhythm of breathing that should have been calming and instead felt like something waiting. Felicity lay at the center of it, her body finally pulled into sleep by exhaustion, her breathing soft and deep, unaware of how the room had shaped itself around her again.
Lucan remained closest, his presence quiet but constant, his gaze fixed on her as though he did not trust anything, not even sleep, to keep her safe.
Voss leaned back against the edge of the bed, posture loose but attention sharp beneath it.
Ivan sat near her legs, still as stone, while Damien remained just within reach, watching without appearing to.
