The knock came just as Alexei was finishing the last few bites of his breakfast. The sound carried through the house in a deliberate, measured rhythm that spoke of protocol rather than panic.
Every man in the room reacted before he could even stand; Zubair's back straightened with quiet instinct, Lachlan paused mid-reach toward Sera's bowl, and Aerenyx lifted his head from the bottom stair with a slow, predatory focus that changed the temperature of the room.
Sera, on the other hand, remained at the table, still wrapped in the unsteady haze of morning, her pink flannel pajamas bunching at the wrists and her hair sticking out in soft angles. She blinked once at the sound, then took another bite of pancake as if her brain had not yet connected knocking with meaning.
