I slumped against the counter, watching the chaos unfold.
Rurik was wiping carrot guts off his dagger. Cassian was aggressively re-counting the till. Lucien was... lurking. And Rajah was still trying to explain his Strategic Flour Camouflage to a starstruck Princess Leonora.
"So," Rajah was saying, flexing a flour-covered bicep, "the apron is tactical! It lures the biscuits into a false sense of security!"
"Fascinating," Leonora breathed, her hazel eyes wide. "Truly innovative military strategy, General."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. My "Hard Mode" survival plan had mutated into a multi-species sitcom.
Do I really need to choose one of them? I wondered, watching them bicker.
Rurik snarled at Cassian. Cassian sneered back. Rajah laughed too loudly. Lucien sharpened a knife in the corner.
They were a handful. They were exhausted single dads (and uncles/brothers) trying their best. And honestly? They were kind of... a family. A very dysfunctional, heavily armed family.
