Page 80 of Property of the Bikers

Reeve is last. He slides into me while Cade is still inside me for a few moments, then takes his place. His thrusts are measured and deep, eyes locked on mine the entire time. He comes quietly, but intensely, forehead pressed to mine, whispering “permanent” against my lips as he finishes.

We stay tangled together on the bed, bodies still pressed close.

Cade remains behind me, his chest to my back, one heavy arm draped over my side with his hand resting possessively on my belly. Jax lies in front of me, forehead against mine, his hand slowly stroking the curve of my stomach. Reeve is on my other side, fingers tracing lazy patterns across my hip while his eyes stay sharp even now.

The room is quiet except for our breathing.

The claiming was already finished before tonight. Tonight was just our bodies confirming what was already true. I am theirs. They’re going to war for it.

Reeve’s phone vibrates on the nightstand. He reaches over without hesitation and checks the screen. His expression doesn’t change.

“Ghost just sent the final route confirmation for Friday,” he says. “The east wing elevator override is still holding, but we need to run one more timing check at oh-four-hundred.”

Cade’s hand tightens slightly on my belly. “Set it up.”

Jax exhales against my hair. “We move at first light tomorrow for the final dry run.”

The operational pressure is already pressing back in.

Chapter Thirty-Five

REEVE

It’s Thursday morning, and the monitoring screens are clean.

There was no movement on Viktor’s network overnight. No new shell company activity, no encrypted channel traffic, no financial transfers through any of the entities I’ve been tracking since week one.

His team is positioned and waiting, the same way we’re positioned and waiting, and the silence between us is the silence of two operations that have both finished planning and are now waiting for the same trigger.

Six AM tomorrow. The moment Doc makes the call and the admission goes into the system, both sides move.

We know his plan, and he doesn’t know we know it. That’s the only edge we have, and I’ve been turning it over since Sunday, looking for the places where it could fail, the assumptions built into it that could be wrong.

Dmitri could have given us bad intel, deliberately or because he didn’t have the full picture. Viktor could have changed the approach plan after Dmitri accessed it. The contractor could operate differently than the documentation suggests.

I’ve run all three scenarios.

Dmitri’s intel checks out through two independent verification methods. Viktor’s network has been dormant for seventy-two hours, a pattern consistent with a team that has its orders and is waiting to execute, not a team that’s been stood down and retasked. The contractor’s documented methodology matches the approach plan Dmitri provided in every detail I can cross-reference.

The intel is good.

Ghost comes in at eight. He sits across the desk, and I run him through the floor layout one more time, not because he doesn’t have it memorized but because running it again catches things that memorization misses.

The east wing private floor, two access points, four men covering them. Orderly positions confirmed with the hospital administrator yesterday afternoon. Visitor cover for the second pair cleared through Doc’s arrangement with the floor supervisor.

“Elevator shaft access,” Ghost says.

“Covered,” I say. “Maintenance contractor identity confirmed. He’s in position from five thirty AM.”

Ghost nods. “Viktor’s team approach?”

“Patient Transfer Solutions vehicle, Oregon plates, arrives within ninety minutes of the admission trigger. They move through the main entrance, take the elevator to the private floor, and approach from the east corridor.” I pause. “They won’t reach the second checkpoint.”

“If they split the team,” Ghost says.

“Two on the floor, two holding the vehicle,” I say. “If they split differently, you have the contingency.”

He nods once. He’s been running the contingency. He doesn’t need me to describe it.