When Lucian arrived at the harbour, the cobblestones were left raised and the ground broken. He pushed the men away as he made his way forward. He could smell blood in the air and the closer he got, the darker his eyes turned until his eyes fell on the two bodies laid on the ground.
Lucian's steps slowed before it came to a halt. For a long moment, he did not move at all.
One of them belonged to Dane and the other was Lachlan. His brother lay still on the ground, his face pale and covered in dirt, his once vibrant, mischievous eyes closed. And where his chest should have risen and fallen, a gaping and hollow wound sat there.
Lucian knelt down before his hand reached for his brother's. Even though it was winter, his brother's fingers were still cooling, as though death had only just finished its work. As though he had missed saving him by seconds.
