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No movement anywhere, which doesn't make sense. I heard something.

I flick through each room's cameras individually. Kitchen—clear, just the dim light from the refrigerator illuminating empty countertops. Living room—nothing but furniture. Hallway—empty.

I know I fucking heard a door. Could it be…?

My finger hovers over the last set—the bedroom cameras. The ones I installed after Vesper moved in with us, a precaution I never mentioned to her or the guys. A contingency plan. A safeguard I promised myself I'd only use if someone's life depended on it.

Privacy is sacred in our arrangement. I know that. But so is security.

I hesitate, guilt and necessity warring within me as I stare at the blacked-out icon. Fuck it. If someone is in the apartment, all bets are off.

I click the camera link, and Talon’s bedroom pops up on the screen.

He’s sprawled face-down across the mattress, one arm hanging off the edge, the other shoved under his pillow. The sheets are twisted around his waist, and he’s snoring like he’s trying to shake the walls. Classic Talon—man could sleep through the apocalypse.

I switch to Oz’s room next, half expecting to catch him curled up with a book like the night owl he is.

Empty.

My pulse stutters as I toggle over to Zaire’s camera. His room’s just as vacant. Clothes everywhere, bed a mess—typical Z. But no sign of him either.

“Shit,” I mutter, fingers tightening around the gun. That only leaves one place—Vesper’s. If someone’s after her…

I don’t hesitate. I click into her room’s camera.

The bed comes into view—and she’s not alone. Z stands near the door, while Vesper and Oz are on the bed. His hand is…

Oh fuck.

I move to close the window, but my finger stalls above the button. I should look away. Ishould. But I don’t.

Oz's hand disappears inside her sleep shorts, and her back arches off the mattress. Her beautiful tits on full fucking display. Oz leans down, sucking one into his mouth. My throat goes dry as I watch her bite her lower lip, clearly trying to stay quiet.

This is wrong. I'm violating something sacred between them. But my body betrays me, rooted to the spot.

“Fuck.” I should be ashamed. I am ashamed. But I can't tear myself away from the screen. I notice the small speaker icon next to the video feed. My finger hovers over it, the rational part of my brain screaming to shut this down. But then Vesper's back arches higher, her lips parting, and before I can stop myself, I click.

Her moan fills my room, soft and desperate, the sound so fucking beautiful it makes my cock instantly hard in mysweatpants. My breathing turns shallow as I watch her come undone, her body trembling as Oz works his fingers against her.

“Shit,” I hiss, adjusting myself painfully.

This could have been me tonight. Just hours ago, she was in my room, looking up at me with those green eyes, practically begging me to touch her. And what did I do? I sent her away. Told her she needed be fully present, mind and body, before I fuck her.

Like a goddamn saint. Or an idiot. Definitely an idiot.

I watch as Oz pulls back. The unspoken communication between them sends a jolt straight to my groin. Z pushes off from the doorframe in one fluid motion, stalking toward the bed.

Oz slides away, helping Vesper shimmy out of those tiny sleep shorts. My breath catches as the soft glow of the bedroom light reveals every inch of her. Absolutely fucking breathtaking.

I shouldn't be watching this. I’ve never claimed to have morality, but fuck, I know this wrong. My hand is already sliding beneath my waistband, wrapping around my painfully hard cock as Z pushes forward, entering her in one slow, deliberate thrust.

“Fuck,” I hiss, matching my strokes to his rhythm, imagining how she must feel—tight, wet. The way her back arches off the bed, the way her fingers dig into Z's skin hard enough to leave marks—it's the most beautiful torture I've ever witnessed.

“Look at me,” Z’s voice commands Vesper through the speakers, one hand sliding up to grip her jaw. “I want to see your eyes when you come on my cock.”

I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to ground myself as my hand moves faster. The shame burns hot in my chest, but the arousal burning in my veins is stronger.

Then I see it—Vesper looking directly at the camera hidden in the corner of her room. For one heart-stopping moment, I think she's caught me, that somehow she knows I'm watching.But her mind drifts away, lost again in the sensations Z is creating.