Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse-Chapter 69: Dont Trust Her

Victor pov

From the roofline, the city looked like a machine.

Victor lay low in shadow, wings folded tight, eyes scanning patterns the way he used to scan battlefields before the world ended. He didn’t need to see the Supreme to know what kind of man ran this place. The streets were too clean. The patrol routes too disciplined. The barricades too deliberate.

A man like that didn’t keep order by being kind, He kept it by being correct.

Victor tracked Felicity by feel as much as sight. Her presence sat in the back of his skull like a constant pulse, the quiet hum of power he didn’t fully understand but could always sense. When she crossed the gate, the pulse didn’t fade.

It sharpened, She was in. He didn’t breathe out until she was past the first funnel lane.

The next part was the hardest part because it required him to do the one thing he hated more than fighting.

It required him to wait, To not intervene when males smelled her. To not snap the moment someone categorized her like a resource.

To not drop from the roof and tear out throats when the city decided she was property.

He had agreed.

He had agreed because she asked him to, and because the logic was correct, and because if he didn’t agree she would still do it, just without his overwatch.

Victor watched the entry lanes. Watched the guard reaction.

Watched the subtle shift in posture that meant alarm, hunger, calculation.

He kept his hands steady by counting exit points.

Two main routes. Four side alleys. One sewer access near the eastern barricade. Roofline paths that connected in a chain.

If she signaled, he could be at her position in less than ten seconds.

If she was taken below ground, it got complicated.

If she was moved into command housing, it got worse, he saw the escort route shift toward upper district.

His jaw locked.

They were bringing her to leadership.

Of course they were, She had planned it that way.

He hated that it worked.

Voss moved like a shadow on the far side, silent and immense, tracking from below with a patience that belonged to apex predators. Damien ghosted through the lower structures, flanking the escort route from angles no guard would expect.

They weren’t idle, They were hunting paths, not people.

Victor kept his wing muscles tight to keep from launching when the instinct screamed at him.

That’s mine.

His.

Ours.

The bond was official, The men who had touched her, protected her, slept around her, bled for her, didn’t see it as temporary.

They saw it as fact. And this city did not care about their facts.

He caught fragments.

"Female."

"Fertile."

"Supreme will see this."

Victor’s jaw clenched hard enough to ache.

He forced himself to stay still.

Because Felicity had asked for this. He memorised the building’s exits.

And when the escort route redirected again, deeper into upper district, Victor felt the worst part of the plan click into place. They weren’t just bringing her to leadership.

Leadership was keeping her.

The Supreme POV

He had not expected the universe to deliver him a solution. He had expected to die with his teeth sunk into the problem.

That was the reality of scarcity. The reality of command. When women died first, and then the fertile ones, and then the last three aged out of bearing, a city stopped being a community and became a timer.

A timer until collapse.

The Supreme had been counting that timer with quiet precision for months.

Fights broke out over imagined scents. Males grew reckless. Patrol discipline frayed. Breeding logic turned into desperation logic. Desperation logic turned into violence.

His job was to keep the violence pointed outward. To keep it from turning inward.

A city needed a future.

Not as hope.

As policy.

So when the officer reported a fertile female at the gate, the Supreme did not react with excitement.

He reacted with suspicion.

Nothing that valuable walked into a fortified city by accident.

Nothing.

He watched her enter the command chamber. Soft dress. Hair loose. Tail smoothed. Bare ankles. A posture that suggested vulnerability without being helpless.

He inhaled.

Female. Young. Fertile.

And...

No bonded imprint, no dominant claim, no scent marking.

Unclaimed. That was the most dangerous part, Because unclaimed didn’t mean unwanted.

Unclaimed meant opportunity, and opportunity made men stupid.

He dismissed the generals because he didn’t want stupidity in the room. He wanted clarity.

When he tried to dismiss the escort male, she stopped him with a soft claim of anxiety.

"I get nervous if he isn’t near me."

The Supreme studied her hand on the male’s sleeve.

Interesting.

A comfort anchor. Because if she was smart, she was useful. And if she was useful, she could be controlled through structure.

He inhaled again.

Her scent pulled on him, not in a mindless way, but in an instinct that felt like pressure. Like gravity. Like something that promised stability if he locked it down, He made the decision.

Command housing.

Near him.

Felicity POV

The moment the Supreme said "near me," Felicity felt the hook set.

Not physically, Politically.

She kept her face soft because triumph would get her killed faster than any monster. Inside her chest, her heart hit harder once, then steadied.

Phase one: access.

Complete.

Phase two: placement.

Complete.

Phase three: information extraction.

Next.

She kept hold of Ivan’s sleeve because it was the only thing she could cling to without breaking character. If she let go, she looked too calm. Too independent. Too capable.

Capable women weren’t protected. Capable women were controlled aggressively. So she stayed soft, She stayed small, She stayed like a girl who needed someone to make decisions for her.

The Supreme signaled and a subordinate entered with instructions.

Felicity listened as if she wasn’t listening.

Command housing. Private room. Guard outside. No roaming. Meals delivered. Medical assessment scheduled. Supply evaluation. Healing demonstration.

She filed every detail away.

Guard outside meant she needed a timed window, not brute force. Meals delivered meant she could map staff rotation. Medical assessment meant she’d learn their internal triage setup. Healing demonstration meant she could show just enough to be valuable without revealing the real extent of what she did to Snow Team.

The Supreme turned, gesturing for her to follow.

Ivan moved with her, quiet, and Felicity kept her posture slightly hesitant, a half-step behind the Supreme like she didn’t know whether she was allowed to exist in this space.

They walked through upper corridors that smelled cleaner, warmer. Order and privilege.

As they passed doorways, Felicity caught glimpses of the machinery of leadership: maps pinned to walls, inventory ledgers, radio units, training schedules. Men moved with purpose, but their eyes tracked her the moment she entered their peripheral vision.

That wasn’t friendliness, That was hunger under discipline. The Supreme noticed.

Of course he did. He was counting how long discipline held. They reached a suite near the heart of command. A guard stood at the door, posture rigid, eyes darting once to her ankles then snapping back up like he’d been caught.

The Supreme spoke calmly.

"She remains here tonight. You do not enter. You do not touch. You do not speak unless spoken to. You do not breathe in her direction longer than necessary."

The guard swallowed hard. "Yes, Supreme."

Felicity’s throat tightened.

So she kept her face soft.

The Supreme opened the door himself. Inside was a room that was not luxurious, but it was unquestionably comfortable compared to the lower district. Clean sheets. Heated stones in a basin. A small table with a covered tray already set. A chair near the window.

He watched her take it in.

She made herself look grateful.

"Oh," she whispered, as if she’d never seen comfort in her life.

The Supreme’s gaze lingered on her expression like he was tasting it.

"You will eat," he said.

"Yes," she answered quickly.

He looked at Ivan. "You may remain until she sleeps. You will be assigned quarters nearby."

Ivan’s eyes didn’t change. "Understood."

The Supreme’s gaze returned to Felicity.

"You will be assessed in the morning."

"I’ll do my best," she said softly.

He stepped closer, not touching, but close enough that she could feel the weight of him. The compressed dominance. The control. "You understand," he said quietly, "that your presence changes the city."

Felicity let her eyes widen as if she hadn’t considered it.

"I... I didn’t mean to cause trouble."

The Supreme watched her for a long beat.

Then he said, blunt and calm, "You are trouble. You are also solution. Both can be managed." He turned and left, The lock clicked.

The guard’s steps shifted outside, settling into a standing patrol position. Felicity held her expression until the sound of the Supreme’s footsteps faded down the corridor.

Then she exhaled through her nose, slow and controlled.

Ivan looked at her. For the first time since the gate, his voice dropped to almost nothing.

"You’re in."

Felicity nodded once.

"Yes."

"And he’s keeping you close," Ivan added.

"Yes."

Ivan’s mist curled slightly around his fingers like restrained violence.

"You want to tell me the next part," he said, not as a question, "before I have to guess."

Felicity walked to the window. She kept her body angled away from the door, away from the guard, away from any hidden peephole. She lowered her voice anyway.

"The next part is why you’re here," she murmured. "You’re the only one who can move without triggering the husbands."

Ivan’s eyes narrowed slightly. "So I’m a leash."

"You’re an anchor," she corrected, blunt. "I need one person near me who isn’t going to flare scent and start a riot. If Victor walks into this hallway, half the city will scent claim and we’ll have a containment event."

Ivan’s mouth twitched once, humorless.

"And what’s the goal."

Felicity stared out over the city.

Below, lights moved in controlled patterns. Patrols rotated. A civilization trying to pretend it hadn’t died.

"The goal is to understand what kind of monster runs this place," she said. "If he’s the type who keeps order without cruelty, we can absorb the city. Trade. Alliance. Safe passage."

"And if he’s not," Ivan prompted.

Felicity’s voice stayed soft, but the words were sharp.

"Then we take what we need and we leave, and we make sure he can’t follow."

Ivan watched her carefully. "You’re planning to honeypot him."

Felicity didn’t flinch.

"Yes."

Ivan exhaled slowly. "By yourself."

"By myself with you as witness and escape route," she said. "And the husbands as overwatch."

Ivan’s eyes flicked to the window. "Overwatch isn’t comfort."

"I didn’t come here for comfort," Felicity replied, honest.

She turned back to him, and for a moment she let her softness drop just enough for him to see her clearly.

"This city will try to own me. I need the leader to decide that owning me through him is better than owning me through the city."

Ivan’s gaze sharpened. "So you want him personally invested."

"Yes," Felicity said, blunt. "If he’s invested, he protects me from his own men. If he’s invested, he gives me access. If he’s invested, he makes exceptions. And exceptions are where I get information."

Ivan’s voice was flat. "And if he tries to mark you."

Felicity’s fingers tightened on the windowsill. "Then Victor burns the city down," she said simply.

Ivan didn’t argue, Because it was true.

Felicity looked at the covered tray on the table, She didn’t eat yet. She approached it like it might be poisoned, because in a way it was. Not poison to her body.

Poison to her autonomy.

Food meant obligation. Shelter meant control. Comfort meant the city expecting gratitude.

She lifted the lid anyway.

Warm broth. Bread. Dried fruit. Clean water.

Not a trap.

A test.

She took a bite slowly, deliberately, so the guard outside could hear the movement and report compliance.

Then she set the spoon down.

"I need a map," she murmured.

Ivan’s eyebrow lifted.

"By morning," Felicity continued, "I want to know their command chain, their supply points, their medical system, how they handle dissent, and if they have any prisoners."

Ivan’s voice dropped. "And their breeding policies."

Felicity’s eyes didn’t move. "Yes."

Ivan’s mist thickened slightly.

"Okay," he said. "I’ll get what I can."

Felicity nodded, then leaned back in the chair by the window, letting her posture soften again, because cameras and peepholes and listening guards were realities now.

"I’ll play soft," she murmured. "You play harmless." Ivan’s mouth twitched. "I am harmless."

Felicity gave him a look.

Ivan sighed. "Fine. I’ll play harmless." A knock came at the door.

Both of them went still. The lock clicked and the door opened just enough to reveal a male subordinate, older, sharp-eyed, carrying folded fabric and a small basin of heated water, His gaze flicked to Felicity’s dress, then her hair, then her hands.

Assessment.

She didn’t look at Ivan at all, The man spoke calmly. "Supreme sent these. For comfort."

Felicity’s face brightened, just enough. "Oh... thank you."

The man set the items down and hesitated. Her eyes lifted to Felicity’s face. For a moment, something cracked.

Warning.

"You should sleep," the man said quietly.

Then, softer, almost not audible, "Do not trust the comfort."

Felicity’s breath caught, but she kept her smile in place. "Okay," she whispered.

The door shut.

The lock clicked again.

Outside, the guard shifted, boots scraping once.

Ivan looked at Felicity. "Told you," he murmured. "Not an idiot city."

Felicity stared at the folded fabric, at the basin, at the quiet luxury that tasted like chains.

Her heart steadied, This was what she wanted.

This was what she chose. She let her shoulders droop, let her face soften, let the performance wrap around her like the pale dress did. Then she hummed under her breath, a tune without edges, because softness was her weapon now and she needed to remember how to hold it without choking.

Somewhere beyond the walls, Victor watched the command building like it was a target.

Somewhere in the corridors, the Supreme made decisions that would change a thousand lives.

And Felicity, alone in a warm room she didn’t trust, began to plan how to take the city apart from the inside without ever letting them see her hands move.

When the guard’s steps settled into a rhythm and the lights outside dimmed slightly, she leaned close to Ivan and whispered the final, ugliest truth.

"If this goes wrong," she said softly, "don’t try to save my pride. Save my body. Drag me out even if I’m screaming."

Ivan’s eyes went cold.

"Okay," he said.

Felicity’s smile returned, shy and harmless, as if she hadn’t just said something savage. "Goodnight," she murmured loudly toward the door, playing sweet.

Then, even quieter, only for Ivan:

"Tomorrow, I start making him believe I’m his."