Marin's office was quiet, the faint hum of ether monitors filling the air, the walls lined with cabinets of neatly labeled files. The physician, a man in his seventies now, with sharp eyes dulled only by years of dealing with imperial dramatics, leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach.
"I've seen everything," he muttered, watching Gabriel settle elegantly into the seat opposite. "Emperors bleeding out, omegas in shock, alphas half-dead from ruts they swore they could control. Nothing surprises me anymore."
Gabriel arched a brow, black hair falling neatly against his pale temple. "Mm. That's convenient. Because I imagine this will test your theory."
Marin gave him a long-suffering look. "You're not pregnant again."
"I am," Gabriel said simply, crossing one leg over the other with infuriating poise. "With twins."
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hiss of an ether line cycling through the monitors.
