Voss's chest tightened with something fierce and protective, a pull below his ribs, sharp as a blade's edge. The image of her sitting there, soft and round with their children growing inside her, those golden ears perked in mild curiosity when they walked through the door.
He was going to build a wall.
No, a moat and a wall.
No. He was going to ask Victor to simply eat anyone who came within fifty meters.
"For the record," Marx said, his composure cracking just enough to let something raw bleed through, "if a single one of those idiots gets close enough to see her smile, we're going to have a body count that makes the apocalypse look like a mild disagreement."
Voss didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
They both walked faster.
Meanwhile, in a two-story townhouse on the east end of Bowral, Maddie was bored.
