Morning in the bank came in layers.
First the distant clang of metal as someone adjusted barricades. Then low voices, boots on marble, the faint hiss of a kettle warming. Felicity woke curled on her side, tail tucked tight, cheek pressed to a blanket that smelled faintly like Victor and smoke
She lay still for a moment, listening.
No shouting. No alarms.
Good.
She sat up slowly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. The world felt… heavier today. Not bad. Just real. Like yesterday had shifted something that wouldn't slide back into place.
Victor was already awake.
He stood near the stairwell entrance, arms folded, posture loose but alert, speaking quietly with Voss. The two of them went silent the moment Felicity moved.
She flushed immediately. "Sorry," she murmured, automatically.
Victor turned, brow creasing. "For what?"
"I—" She stopped. Thought about it. Shook her head a little. "Nothing. I just didn't mean to interrupt."
Voss watched her closely, amber eyes unreadable. Then he looked away first.
"Breakfast is almost ready," he said. "I'll take first perimeter sweep."
Victor studied him for a beat. "I'll send Kai with you."
Voss's jaw tightened. Pride flickered across his face. He masked it fast.
"Fine," he said evenly. "Extra eyes don't hurt."
Felicity didn't miss it.
She also didn't miss the way Voss paused as he passed her, hesitating like he wanted to say something, then choosing not to. Instead, he reached out and gently adjusted the edge of her blanket where it had slipped from her shoulder.
A small thing.
But deliberate.
When he turned away, Felicity watched him go, confusion knitting her brows.
Breakfast passed quietly. The survivors downstairs were subdued after last night's confrontation. Polite, even. Too polite. Felicity moved among them with water and a careful smile, checking wounds she hadn't been allowed to heal yet.
"Not today," she said gently, again and again. "I'll come back later."
Most accepted it.
One didn't.
Rhys caught her near the base of the stairwell, blocking her path just enough to be a problem. His grin was all teeth and confidence. "You know," he said lightly, "if you're tired of playing nursemaid for Silver, there are other ways to be useful."
Felicity froze.
Not fear. Surprise.
"I'm fine," she said softly, stepping sideways to pass him.
He didn't move.
"I'm serious," Rhys continued. "A girl like you shouldn't waste herself on one man."
The air shifted.
Felicity felt it before she saw it.
Voss was there suddenly, presence snapping into place like a drawn blade. He didn't touch Rhys. Didn't need to.
"Move," Voss said calmly.
Rhys scoffed. "Relax. Just talking."
Voss smiled.
It wasn't friendly.
"Last chance," he said.
Something in his voice cut through the room. Rhys stepped back, hands raised, muttering under his breath as he retreated into the crowd.
Felicity exhaled shakily.
"Thank you," she said.
Voss turned to her. His expression was tight, conflicted. "You shouldn't have to deal with that."
"I can handle it," she said quickly, then faltered. "I think."
He studied her face, searching. "Kindness gets you hurt," he said. "You give too much."
She hugged her arms around herself. "I just… I was an only child," she said quietly. "My parents worked a lot. I learned early that if I wanted people to stay, I had to be useful. Nice. Easy."
Voss felt something ugly twist in his chest.
"You don't owe anyone that," he said roughly.
She nodded, though she didn't look convinced.
That afternoon, it backfired.
A young rat beastman collapsed near the lobby, feverish and shaking. Felicity didn't wait for permission. She knelt, hands glowing softly as she eased the infection from his blood.
She didn't notice how pale she'd gone until the room tilted.
Victor caught her before she hit the floor.
"Fel," he snapped, fear sharp in his voice.
"I'm okay," she whispered, though her knees wouldn't hold. "I just wanted to help."
Victor lifted her easily, carrying her toward the stairwell. The survivors watched in stunned silence.
"This is why there are rules," he said tightly, not angry, but scared. "You don't spend yourself for people who won't protect you back."
Her head rested against his shoulder. "I don't want to become someone who only cares about her own," she murmured.
Victor stopped halfway up the stairs.
The stairwell was narrow, dim, concrete walls close enough to trap sound. He set her down carefully on the landing, hands lingering at her waist longer than necessary.
"You can care," he said quietly. "And still choose yourself."
She looked up at him, eyes bright, vulnerable. "What if I choose wrong?"
He leaned in without thinking.
Too close.
Her breath hitched. She could feel the heat of him, the restraint vibrating through his body like a held note.
"Then I'll be there," he said, voice low. "Every time."
Victor's hands cupped her waist before she could protest, or even react.
Her feet left the floor, his grip so strong and certain she felt her heart flutter then seize in the same instant. He backed her to the nearest wall, wings shuddering at his shoulders as if his own body barely contained the storm.
"Too much," he growled, voice pitched for her ears alone. "You have no idea."
He pressed her into the crumbling brick, the rough edges cool and scratchy against her back. His mouth found her ear, lips grazing the shiver-sensitive fur inside, then teeth sharp, not quite breaking skin but promising she'd wear his mark for days.
She gasped, and he swallowed the sound with a kiss, tongue heat and fangs and hunger. The world narrowed to this: the pressure of his hips, the way her body arched into him, the shuddery thrill of being lifted, owned, claimed.
"Victor" she managed, but it dissolved into a long, high-pitched whimper as he worked a hand beneath her dress. His fingers, blunt and calloused, found purchase on the softest curve at the inside of her thigh.
He slipped higher, then higher, and the distant part of her brain that clung to protocols and decency shriveled up and died.
She clung to his shoulders, nails digging in, breath coming in frantic little pants. He mouthed her ear again, growling, "Say you want it."
She whimpered, barely managing the words. "I want it. Please."
That's all it took.
His hand wasn't gentle anymore; it was demanding, possessive, sliding her panties aside and tracing the slick heat beneath.
She moaned, the sound muffled by his palm when he silenced her, as if the wild city below could possibly overhear.
He fumbled at his own belt, then sheathed himself in her, one hard thrust burying him to the hilt. Felicity's mind went white, her body clenching him with a need so raw it bordered on pain.
He rocked into her, slow at first, letting her feel every inch, every twitch of muscle.
She mewled with each movement, squeezing his waist with her legs, hips bucking in time with his.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he whispered, the words breaking apart as he kept ramming into her, their bodies moving in a primal rhythm.
Her walls gripped him so tightly he could only groan in response, the sensation overwhelming them both. When his mouth found her breast, teeth grazing sensitive flesh, she couldn't contain her cries.
Each thrust brought her closer to the edge, her pleasure building in waves that threatened to consume her completely.
He was slamming into her with primal intensity, his muscles tensing with each thrust. With a growl that rumbled deep in his chest, he pulled her away from the wall and bent her backwards until she was in a bridge position, her knees and palms pressed firmly against the cold stone floor.
His calloused fingers found her sensitive tail, stroking the fur in a way that sent shivers up her spine. She gasped as he withdrew his thick shaft with deliberate slowness, leaving her feeling empty for one agonizing moment before he slammed back into her depths with enough force to make her cry out.
His release flooded her depths with such force that her vision blurred, his scorching seed marking her from within as it overflowed between their joined bodies.
He seized the nape of her neck with teeth and tongue, his primal growl vibrating against her skin as he vowed to fill her with his clutch, to watch her swell with his offspring. "We'll practice until you're heavy with my eggs," he commanded, his voice raw with possession.
The intensity of his words pushed her over the edge her climax tore through her like lightning, her body convulsing violently as she screamed his name into the darkness. her ears flattening and her tail fluffed to full plume.
He bit down on her shoulder, muffling his own groan, the vibration of it shooting through her like a live current.
He pulsed inside her, filling her, He held her there for a long time, letting her come down, smoothing her hair and ears with gentle fingers. She sagged against him, boneless and trembling.
He set her down, straightened her dress, and for the first time in her life, Felicity understood what it was to be claimed by a monster and to want nothing more.
They returned to the vault, Felicity limping slightly, Victor's palm never leaving the small of her back.
Voss watched them enter, eyes flicking from Felicity's flushed face to Victor's smug, sated air. He said nothing, but the lazy curl to his mouth said he knew exactly what had transpired.
Not like anyone failed to notice. They were past the phase of furtive glances; every man in the vault who wasn't embroiled in Finch and Giddy's increasingly desperate campaign to earn Rose's affection was eyeing Felicity with a sort of open collared hunger.
The effect was most dramatic among the stronger males jaguars, wolves, and the broad-shouldered who found nothing else to do but loll against the concrete, claws worrying at their denims, cocks straining visibly in the thin light as they ground themselves against architectural features not intended for rutting.
No one said a word about it. It was just pheromones and the natural order, and besides, Finch and Giddy's efforts to win Rose's favor bordered on slapstick;
Rose played bored and untouchable, burrowed deep in her books, only gracing the two with icy commentary or, occasionally, a slow-lidded look that sent both into full-body shivers.
Felicity didn't want to look at the display, but she caught glimpses through her lashes as she moved through the vault, shoulders back, tail high,
The memory of Victor's teeth, the heat and violence of his claim, throbbed low and molten in her belly even as she tried to tamp it down.
It got worse in the evenings. The tension built all day, heat pressing from every surface. By midnight, the vault was thick with the sound of self-pleasure: the slick rhythm of palms on skin, the muted grunts and sighs of those unwilling to show restraint.
Felicity pretended not to notice, but her own body betrayed her, slickening as she drifted in and out of sleep, waking to the scent of musk and the sound of another's release.
Sometimes, when she passed by, the men would flick their eyes to her and not bother pretending their fantasy lay elsewhere.
Victor woke Felicity just before dawn, hauling her from sleep with a rough hand. "Come with me," he said. No further explanation.
She followed, unsteady and still half-dreaming. He led her up the service stairs, past the sleeping heap of kits, up into the blood-tinged light of morning on the roof. The air was thick with fog and the city below looked like a drowned world.
He turned to her and pressed his forehead to hers, his hands cupping her jaw as if she were breakable. "You don't have to stay," he said. "I'd gut them all for you, if that's what you wanted."
There was a tenderness in him that she'd never seen before not in private, certainly not in public. It made her ache. "I want to stay."