"Everything worth doing is dangerous," Felix counters, and there's something in his tone that makes my chest ache.
"They're something, aren't they?"
I nearly jump out of my fucking skin. Carlisle's right behind me, close enough that I can smell his expensive cologne and the underlying scent of satisfaction at catching me off guard.
"Fuck!" I hiss, spinning to face him. "Wear a bell or something, you creepy bastard."
His smile is all teeth and amusement. "I'mnot the one lurking in hallways, watching our omegas like a lovesick teenager at a school dance."
"I wasn't lurking. I was..." I grasp for an excuse that doesn't make me sound like a complete stalker. "Organizing."
"Organizing." He draws the word out like he's tasting it. "In the hallway. Where there's nothing to organize. While staring at them with your mouth slightly open like you're standing in the Louvre gazing upon an original DaVinci."
"Fuck you."
"You can both come out now," Juniper calls from the couch, not even looking up. "Stop standing there like creeps. It's weird."
My face burns hot enough to fry an egg. Of course she knew we were there. She probably knew the second we got within fifty feet. Omega senses or assassin training or just being Juniper—who knows what combination of skills lets her track everything around her like she's got radar built into her skull.
Carlisle, naturally, strolls into the room like he was invited, poised with casual elegance and not a hint of embarrassment. I follow because the alternative is standing in the hallway like an idiot, which seems only marginally worse.
"We were just going to ask how you're settling in," Carlisle lies smoothly, dropping into one of the armchairs with his usual grace.
Juniper finally looks up, hazel eyes bright with amusement. "Oh, is that what you were doing? Not creeping on story time like a couple of perverts?"
"We're concerned perverts," I manage, trying to salvage some dignity. "There's a difference."
She laughs, the sound bright and genuine in a way that makes my alpha instincts purr like a fucking house cat. "Well, since you asked so nicely while definitely not stalking us, we're settling in great. The beds are ridiculous, the bathroom is bigger than most apartments, and I'm pretty sure that kitchen has appliances I don't even know the names of."
"The pasta maker is purely decorative," Carlisle assures her. "No one actually knows how to use it."
"Thank fuck," Felix says in that painfully dry tone I've come to realize is always sarcasm. "I was worried there'd be expectations."
"The only expectation," I say, finding my footing in the conversation, "is that you rest. Recover. Let us handle the heavy lifting."
Juniper groans dramatically, melting backward until she's draped across the couch like a tragedy in designer jeans. "Rest is so fucking boring. I've been resting for days. My brain's going to leak out my ears if I have to rest any more."
"Your brain's been leaking out your ears since I met you," Felix says dryly, poking her ribs.
She swats at him without looking.
Carlisle's eyes light up with interest. "You could always help with weapons inventory. I have three crates of new acquisitions that need cataloging."
Juniper sits up so fast she nearly gives herself whiplash. "New weapons?"
"Mmm-hmm. Some very interesting pieces from a dealer in Vienna. Experimental ammunition, a few prototypes that technically don't exist yet..."
She's actually vibrating with excitement, and then she stops, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Wait. This is just organizing with extra steps, isn't it? You want me to do paperwork."
"Paperwork with guns," Carlisle clarifies.
She flops back down. "Never mind. I'm notthatbored."
We all laugh, even Felix, though his is more of an exhale with attitude. It's such a normal moment, so domestic, that for a second I can pretend we're just... people. Not assassins and vigilantes, not predator and prey, not whatever complicated mess of biology and trauma we actually are.
"Felix?" Bane's voice cuts through the moment like a hacksaw. He's standing in the doorway, all business despite the casual clothes. "Can I borrow you for a minute? Got some pictures I want to run by you, see if you recognize anyone."
Felix glances at Juniper, some silent communication passing between them. She nods, just barely, and he unfolds from the couch with careful movements that suggest his wounds aren't as healed as he'd like us to think.
