Ellie POV
The packhouse was quieter than usual at night now.
Not empty—never empty—but softer. The kind of quiet that came after long days filled with tension and watchful anticipation. Guards rotated through the halls more frequently, footsteps echoing faintly through stone corridors, but even that had begun to feel routine.
I had learned the rhythms of it.
August and Ian were asleep, tucked into their cribs with their favorite blankets, small chests rising and falling in perfect, synchronised calm. I lingered longer than necessary, brushing a thumb over August’s curls, smoothing the edge of Ian’s blanket for the third time.
I hated leaving them, even for a moment.
But Nolan hadn’t come to bed.
I walked down the stairs silently, letting the pull guide me to him.
I felt him before
