Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-One
The estate breathed in rhythms now.

Morning patrols. Training rotations. Feeding schedules. Security sweeps. Coffee brewing before sunrise and lights dimming one wing at a time each night.

Predictable.

Structured.

Alive.

And somewhere beneath all of it, tension continued building in quiet, dangerous layers.

Anika felt it most in the evenings.

Not fear.

Not exactly.

Awareness.

The kind that came when Nikolai looked at her too long across a crowded room. When his hand found the back of her neck instinctively as he passed. When he paused conversations just to ask if she’d eaten.

He noticed everything.

Which meant she had to be careful now.

The pregnancy test remained hidden beneath folded shirts in the back of her dresser drawer.

Untouched.

Waiting.

That alone should have made her open it.

Instead, she avoided it with increasing determination.

Coward, she thought grimly.

“You’re staring at nothing again.”

Anika blinked and looked up from the kitchen island.

Lizzy sat across from her with a bowl of fruit and a stack of veterinary reports, eyeing her suspiciously over the rim of her coffee mug.

“I’m thinking.”

“You’re spiraling.”

“Those are different activities.”

“Not with you.”

Anika snorted softly and reached for her coffee instead.

The kitchen windows stood open to let in the cool evening air. Outside, the training field glowed beneath floodlights while handlers worked dogs through controlled perimeter drills.

Inside, the house felt warm.

Occupied.

Home-like in a way that still occasionally startled her.

Lizzy flipped another page in the report.

“You know,” she said casually, “most people would’ve taken the test by now.”

Anika nearly choked on coffee.

“Jesus Christ, lower your voice.”

Lizzy looked delighted immediately.

“Oh, so we’re panicking now.”

“We are not panicking.”

“You just looked toward the doorway like a criminal.”

“That’s because I live with actual criminals.”

“Fair.”

Anika rubbed a hand down her face.

“I just…” She exhaled slowly. “I want one more day before things change.”

Lizzy’s expression softened immediately.

That hit too close to home.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “That I understand.”

Silence settled between them after that — comfortable, thoughtful.

Then footsteps entered the hall.

Both women looked up instinctively.

Nikolai walked into the kitchen first, sleeves rolled, phone in one hand. Maksim followed a step behind him, both men deep in quiet discussion until Nikolai’s eyes landed on Anika.

Everything else in the room seemed to disappear for him after that.

It happened so consistently now that even Lizzy noticed.

His expression shifted almost imperceptibly.

Softer.

Warmer.

Like his body recognized her before his mind caught up.

“You missed dinner,” Anika said.

“You saved me food anyway.”

“Yes.”

A faint curve touched his mouth.

Maksim’s gaze drifted automatically toward Lizzy at the same moment.

That shift was subtler.

Sharper.

But no less real.

Lizzy noticed too and immediately looked back down at her paperwork like that somehow helped.

Coward, Anika thought toward her this time.

Interesting.

Nikolai crossed the kitchen slowly and stopped beside Anika’s chair, one hand settling naturally against the back of it.

“You are tired,” he said quietly.

“I’m sitting at a counter. That’s not exactly medical evidence.”

“You were awake when I left this morning,” he replied. “And awake when I returned.”

Lizzy made a small choking sound into her coffee.

Anika narrowed her eyes. “Stop listening.”

“You’re in a kitchen.”

“That’s not a denial either,” Lizzy muttered.

Maksim looked faintly amused now.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

Nikolai ignored both of them completely, attention still fixed on Anika.

“You should rest tonight.”

“I do rest.”

“You pretend to.”

That earned him a look.

His fingers brushed lightly against the back of her neck anyway — grounding, familiar.

The touch sent warmth curling low through her chest.

And suddenly the pregnancy test hidden upstairs felt unbearably heavy.

Maksim moved toward the refrigerator while Lizzy pretended to reread the same line in her report for the fourth time.

“You are holding the paper upside down,” he observed calmly as he reached for bottled water.

Lizzy froze.

Then slowly rotated the report.

Anika bit down hard on a laugh.

“I hate this house,” Lizzy muttered.

“No,” Maksim replied without hesitation. “You do not.”

The room went quiet.

Not awkward.

Worse.

Honest.

Lizzy looked up at him finally.

Something shifted between them then — something softer than tension but far more dangerous.

Recognition.

Maksim seemed to realize it too because his posture tightened slightly afterward, like he was actively restraining the instinct to move closer.

Which only made it more obvious.

Nikolai glanced between them once.

Then looked at Anika.

“They are becoming obvious,” he said in Russian.

Anika snorted into her coffee.

Lizzy narrowed her eyes immediately. “I know that was about us.”

“You assume correctly,” Nikolai replied smoothly.

“Traitor,” Lizzy accused Anika.

“Absolutely,” Anika agreed.

For a moment, laughter filled the kitchen.

Real laughter.

The kind that came from safety instead of survival.

And that realization hit Anika harder than she expected.

These people mattered now.

Not professionally.

Not strategically.

Personally.

Deeply.

The thought settled heavily in her chest.

As if sensing the shift in her mood, Nikolai’s hand slid briefly along her shoulder before disappearing again.

“You are thinking too loudly,” he murmured.

“You say that like it’s my fault.”

“It usually is.”

She rolled her eyes, but leaned subtly toward him anyway.

Tiny movements.

Tiny habits.

The kind people only developed when they trusted someone enough to stop guarding every inch of themselves.

Outside, the training lights flickered once as the generators shifted load.

Brief.

Almost unnoticeable.

But Maksim’s attention snapped toward the window instantly.

Professional instinct overriding everything else.

“One second outage on the east grid,” he said automatically, already reaching for the radio clipped to his shoulder.

The atmosphere shifted slightly.

Not panic.

Just awareness.

A reminder.

No matter how warm the kitchen felt… the world outside it still existed.

Maksim spoke quietly into the radio, listened, then nodded once.

“Resolved,” he said.

But something about him remained tighter afterward.

Nikolai noticed too.

A silent exchange passed between them.

Tiny.

Wordless.

The kind built through years together.

Anika watched it happen and felt the smallest thread of unease tighten low in her stomach.

Not enough to ruin the moment.

Just enough to remind her how fragile peace actually was.

And upstairs, hidden in the back of a dresser drawer, a small unopened box waited quietly in the dark.