Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty
By the end of the week, the estate had settled into something dangerously close to comfort.

Not complacency.

Never that.

The guards still rotated on schedule. Radios still murmured through the halls. Dogs still patrolled the perimeter in disciplined patterns beneath floodlights and fog.

But comfort had slipped in anyway.

It lived in the kitchen when coffee was already waiting before anyone asked.
In the kennel wing where the dogs shifted easily between Russian and Italian commands.
In the quiet way people began leaving doors open instead of closed.

Even Lizzy had stopped pretending she was temporary.

Mostly.

“You’re distracted.”

Anika glanced up from the exam table where she was checking Ranger’s shoulder mobility.

Lizzy stood across from her with a tablet tucked against her chest, brows slightly raised.

“I’m working,” Anika replied.

“You’ve checked the same shoulder three times.”

Anika looked down.

Damn it.

Ranger huffed patiently beneath her hands.

“I’m tired,” she said.

“Mhm.”

The sound carried entirely too much suspicion.

The kennel office sat open behind them, sunlight slanting through the windows in pale gold bands. Outside, handlers moved through afternoon rotations while dogs barked in clipped, controlled bursts.

Routine.

Steady.

Safe.

Lizzy leaned against the counter, watching her too closely.

“You’ve been tired all week,” she said casually.

“Busy week.”

“You almost gagged at the smell of raw liver this morning.”

Anika stilled.

“…No I didn’t.”

“You absolutely did.”

“It smelled terrible.”

“It always smells terrible.”

Anika exhaled slowly through her nose.

“You’re being annoying professionally now.”

Lizzy ignored that entirely.

“When was your last cycle?”

The question landed like a dropped knife.

Anika looked up sharply.

Lizzy’s expression softened immediately.

Not teasing anymore.

Not prying.

Just observant.

“Oh,” Lizzy said quietly. “Okay. That face answered a lot.”

Anika looked away first.

“It’s probably stress.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ve been training harder.”

“Also maybe.”

Anika crossed her arms.

“You’re doing the vet equivalent of circling prey right now.”

Lizzy snorted softly. “Occupational hazard.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then Lizzy reached into the pocket of her hoodie and slid something small across the counter.

A pregnancy test.

Anika stared at it.

The room suddenly felt too warm.

“I’m not saying you are,” Lizzy said carefully. “I’m saying you should know.”

Anika’s throat tightened unexpectedly.

Neither of them spoke for a second.

Outside, someone laughed near the training field. A dog barked twice in response.

Normal life continued.

“I haven’t decided if that would terrify me or not,” Anika admitted quietly.

Lizzy’s expression gentled further.

“That’s usually a sign it matters.”

Anika picked up the box slowly, turning it over once in her hands.

Nikolai.

The word alone made her chest ache.

Legacy.
Permanence.
Something that lasts.

“You haven’t told him anything?” Lizzy asked.

“There’s nothing to tell yet.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Anika looked down at the box again.

“No,” she admitted softly.

Lizzy nodded once like she understood completely.

“You don’t have to decide today.”

The gratitude that hit Anika then was sharp enough to hurt a little.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Lizzy shrugged lightly. “I’m invested now. Against my better judgment.”

That finally earned a laugh from Anika.

The moment softened around them after that.

Not tense anymore.

Just honest.

Anika slipped the small box into the pocket of her sweatshirt, hidden beneath the folds of fabric like something fragile she wasn’t ready to hold directly yet.

For a second, her hand lingered there.

Not fear.

Not exactly.

Just awareness.

The possibility of something growing quietly beneath all this steel and strategy felt almost impossible to comprehend. She had spent most of her life learning how to survive. Nikolai had spent his learning how to control damage before it spread.

Neither of them had ever really learned how to expect something gentle.

And yet lately, gentleness had found them anyway.

In quiet mornings tangled in sheets.
In coffee left waiting on counters.
In hands that lingered longer than necessary.

“You’re spiraling,” Lizzy said lightly.

Anika blinked. “Was it that obvious?”

“You got the thousand-yard stare while holding a pregnancy test. So… yes.”

A reluctant smile tugged at Anika’s mouth.

Before either of them could say more, footsteps sounded outside the office.

Both women looked up instinctively.

Maksim stepped into view first, one hand briefly catching the kennel gate as Delta moved past him. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, radio clipped at his shoulder, posture calm in that deceptively still way he carried himself.

His eyes found Lizzy immediately.

Always immediately now.

“Rotation three is finished,” he said. “Zulu favors her left rear after sprint work.”

Lizzy straightened automatically, slipping back into professional mode so quickly it almost made Anika smile.

“Pad checked?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Heat?”

“Minimal.”

“Swelling?”

“None visible.”

The exchange was seamless. Efficient. Familiar.

Too familiar for people supposedly pretending nothing was happening between them.

Lizzy moved toward the doorway, already reaching for the medical kit on the shelf beside it. Maksim stepped aside automatically to make room for her to pass.

His hand settled lightly against the small of her back for barely a second.

Tiny.

Instinctive.

But Lizzy still felt it.

Anika saw that too.

So did Maksim, judging by the slight tightening of his jaw immediately afterward.

“You’re staring,” Lizzy muttered toward Anika without turning around.

“Yes,” Anika replied cheerfully. “I absolutely am.”

Lizzy groaned under her breath and disappeared into the kennel corridor.

Maksim lingered half a second longer.

Long enough for Anika to arch a brow at him knowingly.

His expression remained perfectly neutral.

Which was answer enough.

Then he followed Lizzy down the hall without another word.

Anika watched them go, one hand unconsciously resting over the pocket of her sweatshirt.

Outside, clouds drifted slowly across the late afternoon sun, throwing moving shadows across the training field.

The estate carried on around them — alive with routines, voices, movement.

Safe enough that people had started imagining futures inside it.

Safe enough that they’d started letting their guards down in ways none of them fully recognized yet. The dangerous kind of safety. The kind that convinced people tomorrow was guaranteed.

And that, more than anything, was what made them vulnerable.