Shadow Unit Scandal: The Commander's Omega-Chapter 195: I want a second one.

A few days later, Gregoris put Natalie to bed with the same careful efficiency he used on missions.

It was, in theory, simple. Pajamas. Teeth brushed. One story or two, because Natalie had decided bedtime was a negotiation and she had inherited the Rosenroth talent for stretching an inch into a mile. Gregoris sat at the edge of her enormous bed under etherlit stars that shimmered faintly across the ceiling, listened to her list of grievances about ’unfair dessert laws,’ and waited until her eyelids finally dropped.

She fell asleep clutching a plush lion that looked suspiciously like Damian if Damian had been made for toddlers and not a monster in diplomacy.

Gregoris stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her breathe. He didn’t linger because lingering made him soft, and Gregoris didn’t like noticing how much he liked being soft in this very specific way.

He closed the door quietly and walked back toward the master suite.

The mansion was late-night calm: ether lights dimmed to a low amber, security wards humming under the walls, and the faint scent of expensive soap drifting from the bathroom down the hall.

Rafael.

Gregoris stepped into the suite and immediately clocked the details the way his mind always did. Towels slightly displaced. Steam was still fading from the glass. A faint trail of moisture on the stone floor like a map leading toward the vanity.

Then Rafael emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, robe loose, looking like an insult to everyone who worked hard for their beauty.

He was holding his comm device in one hand, eyes bright with that specific kind of delight that usually meant someone else’s life had just gotten more dramatic.

Gregoris narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Rafael’s smile widened. "I have news."

Gregoris’s expression didn’t change. "If it’s about dessert again, I’m going to lock you in the pantry."

"It’s not about dessert," Rafael said, offended on principle. "It’s about the imperial family."

That made Gregoris pause. Not because he cared about palace gossip, but because it had a habit of turning into orders.

Rafael walked closer, barefoot, entirely unbothered by the fact that the Duke of Alamina was now watching him like a threat assessment.

"Gabriel gave birth," Rafael announced.

Gregoris blinked once, as Marin’s last report predicted the birth within the next two weeks. "Now?"

Rafael nodded, delighted. "Today. And before you ask, yes, Damian already sent out a statement with enough poetic nonsense to make half the Empire cry and the other half pretend they didn’t."

Gregoris made a noncommittal sound.

Rafael’s eyes gleamed. "Second prince."

Gregoris’s brows lifted slightly. "Cecil." He knew the name because Arik had tried to name the child Phoenix for the past three months.

"Cecil," Rafael confirmed, as if savoring the name. Then he added, far too pleased, "Dominant omega."

Gregoris’s mouth tightened. "Of course."

Rafael leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, a picture of relaxed wealth and weaponized gossip. "Black hair."

Gregoris’s eyes narrowed, already knowing where this was going. "Like Damian."

"And silver eyes," Rafael finished, his voice bright with evil. "Like Damian before the ether trial turned them to gold."

Gregoris stared at him for a beat.

Then, very slowly, he said, "That’s going to irritate Gabriel."

Rafael’s grin turned feral. "Oh, it already did."

Gregoris’s tone stayed flat. "He took it as fate insulting him."

"Yes," Rafael said, absolutely delighted. "Apparently Gabriel called it an affront."

Gregoris pinched the bridge of his nose. "He’s going to demand a child that resembles him."

Rafael nodded eagerly. "He already did."

Gregoris exhaled through his nose. "Damian is going to pretend he’s offended and then give him anything he wants."

Rafael’s smile widened, satisfied. "You understand them perfectly."

Gregoris’s gaze flicked toward the bed, then back to Rafael. "Why are you telling me this like it’s entertainment?"

Rafael’s eyes softened a fraction, mischievousness still alive underneath. "Because it is entertainment," he said simply. "And because you looked like you were about to go back to your office and fight the entire empire with spreadsheets."

Gregoris’s jaw ticked. He didn’t deny it.

Rafael crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed like sin incarnate. Then he patted the space beside him, expectant.

Gregoris didn’t move immediately.

Rafael looked up at him, brows raised, and said with sweet menace, "Sit."

Gregoris stared at him.

Rafael smiled, entirely unafraid. "Don’t make me start using Natalie’s tactics. I will. I’m her parent too."

Gregoris sighed as if the sound cost him energy, then finally moved and sat beside Rafael, posture controlled even in a bed built to be decadent.

Rafael leaned into him immediately, warm and smug.

Gregoris let it happen for three seconds before speaking again. "Is Gabriel actually angry?"

Rafael hummed. "He’s offended," he corrected. "Which is different. Angry is when he wants to kill someone. Offended is when he wants the universe to apologize."

Gregoris’s mouth tightened, almost a smile.

Rafael glanced down at his device again. "Damian’s response was... predictably insufferable."

Gregoris’s eyes narrowed. "What did he do?"

Rafael’s grin returned. "He told Gabriel fate can try again."

Gregoris went very still.

Rafael watched him, delighted. "Yes."

Gregoris’s voice went flat. "That’s not going to end well."

Rafael smiled like a man watching a storm roll in from a balcony. "Oh, it’s going to end very well. Just not for anyone who has to be in the room when Gabriel starts planning."

Gregoris exhaled slowly, then leaned back against the headboard with resigned acceptance.

Rafael rested his head on Gregoris’s shoulder, comfortable and warm, like he belonged there so completely the mansion itself had adjusted around him.

Gregoris, Shadow commander, duke, and terrifying in half the Empire, let himself sit in the dim etherlight and admit, briefly and unwillingly, that domestic peace was the strangest kind of luxury.

And Rafael, apparently, decided it was time to set it on fire.

"Gregoris..."

"Hm?" Gregoris answered, his hand already spread across Rafael’s back. He didn’t even open his eyes fully. He just breathed him in, the scent of expensive soap and familiar warmth, and waited for whatever ridiculous thought Rafael had decided to announce.

Rafael shifted slightly, chin tilting up. His voice was soft and sweet.

"I want a second child, too."