Nathan, unmoved, lifted his head. And then, for a brief moment, they locked eyes.
A cold breeze passed between them, leaving behind a subtle noise that sounded more like a whisper.
Lucian's steps halted abruptly. His palms began to sweat.
Out of sheer nervousness, he reached up to clasp the back of his neck.
"What are you doing here?"
He bit his lower lip to suppress the urge to run away.
Nathan was the first to speak. He looked down on Lucian, his voice cold and cutting. It was obvious he wasn't happy to see him there.
Feeling uneasy under his harsh gaze, Lucian forced a stern expression as his brows furrowed.
"We still need to talk," he tried to justify helplessly. He was trembling, and it was difficult to tell whether it was from the freezing weather or the mounting anxiety.
Just as Nathan was about to speak again with visible effort, Anya grabbed his left arm, tightly wrapping hers around it. After a brief pause, a mischievous and sly expression crossed her face.
