Damian read the report twice.
Then he leaned back in his chair, one boot hooked around the leg of the desk, and laughed low, surprised, and genuinely impressed.
"Twenty-four," he said, tapping the screen. "And he rerouted an imperial demographic acknowledgment without tripping a single alarm. Cleanly. During a suspension window." His eyes flicked up, bright with something like pride. "That takes nerve."
Across the room, Gabriel reclined on the chaise with a glass of cold tea cradled in both hands, seven months pregnant and deeply done with the day. He looked tired in the exact way of someone who had already reorganized half an empire before noon.
"It takes anxiety," Gabriel corrected mildly. "And an introvert with too much access."
Damian's mouth curved. "It reminds me of someone."
Gabriel did not look up. "If you say 'an omega who faked an alpha mark to keep his family off his back,' I am throwing this tea at you."
Damian grinned wider. "I wasn't going to say it out loud."
