The gold in the sky vanished as fast as it had come.
Like an eyelid closing.
Like a predator deciding it didn't need to stare to know you were still there.
The apartment fell back into its usual light—cheap and yellow and far too human.
But the pressure stayed.
Not on the walls.
On Nora's skin.
Three kings had followed her into a space built for one.
If she didn't turn this place into an Ark, it would become a cage.
Kaelen paced once, then forced himself to stop—like a man obeying pain.
Rix stood by the window, nostrils flaring, trying to scent the sky.
Zane stared at the street below with a face that had gone blank.
Nora's hands trembled.
She hated that none of them noticed the tremor first.
They all noticed the sky.
Nora cleared her throat.
"Okay," she said. "We're not doing that again."
Kaelen's gaze snapped to her.
"That voice—"
"Later," Nora cut in. "We do logistics first."
Rix blinked.
"Logistics," he repeated, amused. "You talk like a handler."
Nora's smile turned sharp.
"I am the handler," she said. "For all of you. In my home."
Zane's eyes flicked to her.
Respect again.
Kaelen's mouth curved like he wanted to bite the word handler right off her tongue.
Nora walked to the hall closet and opened it.
It was small.
Full of blankets and winter coats and the life of one woman who didn't own much.
She looked back at Rix.
"You sleep there," she said.
Rix stared.
"In the hole."
"It's not a hole," Nora said. "It's a den."
Rix's eyes brightened.
"…A den," he repeated, pleased.
Kaelen's mouth tightened.
"A den," he repeated, as if testing whether the word belonged in a human apartment.
Zane's eyes flicked to Nora.
"Careful," he said softly. "If you name it, it becomes real."
Nora met his gaze.
"That's the point," she said. "Real means rules."
Kaelen let out a sharp laugh.
"You're putting him in the closet."
Nora's gaze slid to Kaelen.
"And you," she said, "sleep on the floor."
Kaelen's laugh died.
"What."
"You take up the whole couch," Nora said. "And you snore."
"I do not—"
"You do," Zane said calmly.
Kaelen's head snapped toward him.
"I will kill—"
Nora lifted a finger.
Kaelen stopped.
His jaw clenched so hard Nora heard his teeth grind.
Rix laughed.
Nora pointed at the whiteboard.
House Rules.
Then she wrote a new line beneath it:
5) Sleeping arrangements are decided by me.
She capped the marker with a click.
Kaelen stared at the new rule like it had personally insulted his bloodline.
Zane's eyes warmed with quiet amusement.
Rix leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Nora like she was the only interesting thing left in the universe.
Nora's cheeks warmed under the attention.
She ignored it.
"Next," she said. "No surveillance."
Zane's expression didn't change.
"That's impossible," he said.
Nora stared at him.
"My home," she said. "My rules."
Zane held her gaze.
Then, slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim black remote.
He set it on the counter.
"Every device the Facility planted," he said quietly. "Every sensor. Every listening node."
He looked at her.
"This turns them off."
Nora's throat tightened.
"You're giving me the kill switch."
Zane's mouth curved.
"I'm giving you control," he corrected. "It's the only way you won't hate me."
Kaelen's gaze flicked to the remote.
"Interesting," he murmured. "So you can be trained too."
Zane didn't look at him.
"I'm not trained," he said. "I'm negotiated."
Nora took the remote.
Her fingers brushed Zane's when she did.
Cold ran up her arm.
Zane's breath caught—just once.
Kaelen saw it.
Kaelen's eyes darkened.
Nora's voice cut through the tension.
"Thank you," she said, to Zane.
The words were simple.
But Zane flinched like they meant more than gratitude.
He looked away first.
Nora exhaled.
She was learning.
The way to keep monsters inside a home was not fear.
It was choice.
It was permission.
It was making them feel like being good earned them something.
Nora turned the TV on—because she needed noise that wasn't their breathing.
The screen flickered.
A morning show.
A bright studio.
A man on stage in a white suit, smiling like he'd been carved from light.
The caption read: LUCIEN VALE — THE SAINT OF MIRACLES — ARRIVES TOMORROW.
The host gushed about blessings.
About healing.
About saving the city from darkness.
Lucien smiled into the camera.
And Nora's stomach dropped because his eyes looked like they were smiling at her specifically.
Kaelen's voice went low.
"Who is that."
Zane's gaze sharpened.
"I don't like him," he said simply.
Rix leaned closer to the screen, sniffing.
"He smells…" he paused, brow furrowing "…wrong."
Nora's pulse hammered.
The TV image glitched—just for a fraction of a second.
Lucien's smile didn't change.
But his eyes did.
For one heartbeat, they turned black.
Then the feed returned to normal.
Nora's hands went cold.
Her phone buzzed on the counter.
Unknown number.
One message.
Thank you for the sample.
Nora's blood ran ice.
Zane's gaze snapped to the phone.
Kaelen's heat flared.
Rix's pupils narrowed.
Nora didn't flip the phone over.
She didn't give whoever it was the satisfaction of seeing her react.
She pressed the remote Zane had given her.
Click.
The apartment's cheap lamp blinked.
The robot vacuum shuddered and went still.
For the first time since the Facility, Nora felt a silence that belonged to her.
Nora lifted her chin.
"Listen," she said to the three of them.
Kaelen's gaze locked on her.
Zane's attention snapped in.
Rix tilted his head, alert like a trained animal.
Nora's voice was steady.
"This city is going to come for me," she said. "Monsters. Men. Kings. Saints. Scientists."
She swallowed.
"And I'm not running."
Her eyes burned.
"This is my Ark," she said. "And if the world wants in…"
She looked at each of them in turn.
"…it goes through you."
Kaelen's mouth curled, fierce.
"Yes," he said.
Zane's gaze turned dark and possessive in a way that finally looked less clinical.
"Yes," he echoed.
Rix's smile flashed, sharp and delighted.
"Yes," he murmured. "Queen."
Nora's head throbbed.
Pain.
Warning.
But underneath it, something new settled into place:
Not fear.
Command.
Outside, far above the rooftops, a distant thunder rolled without clouds.
Not weather.
A wingbeat, maybe.
A reminder.
Another king was watching.
And the Ark—her tiny, rented apartment—had just become a battlefield.
Somewhere in the building, a neighbor's dog began to bark—then cut off mid-sound, like someone had closed a hand around its throat.
The TV turned on by itself.
No remote.
No signal.
A clean studio shot filled the screen—too crisp, too bright for this city.
The anchor smiled like it was good news.
"Tomorrow, the Saint Lucien Revival Tour arrives in—"
Nora's blood ran cold.
On the screen, Lucien smiled.
And his gaze didn't meet the camera.
It met her.
Her phone buzzed once.
Unknown number.
A message, careful as a prayer.
You said: ask.
So I am asking, Nora.
May I come to your Ark—alone?
—Lucien
Kaelen read the name and went rigid.
Rix's smile vanished.
Something feral sharpened in his gaze.
Zane's expression didn't change.
Which was worse—because it meant he was already calculating.
Kaelen's hand closed around the phone hard enough to make it creak.
Then he stopped.
Because Nora laid her palm over his fist and looked him in the eye.
Not a command.
A choice.
Kaelen exhaled, rough.
His grip eased.
Nora lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles.
"Good," she whispered. "Let me answer first."
A second vibration.
The building intercom clicked on by itself.
No button pressed.
No unit selected.
Just a soft, intimate chime, as if he'd already learned her floor.
"Nora," a voice said through the speaker—warm, gentle, certain.
"May I come up?"
Kaelen's heat flared hard enough to rattle the glass.
Rix inhaled like he was tasting blood.
Zane's smile turned razor-thin.
And Nora, trapped between three men and a saint on the other side of her door, realized:
this was not a request that would wait.