SERAPHINA’S POV
Lucian’s retreating figure did not fade from my mind.
Even after the forest swallowed him and the delay trap loosened its invisible grip, even after Brett’s furious snarls dissolved into raw silence, I still saw him.
The tension in his shoulders as he forced himself away.
The haunted look in his eyes.
The way he had hesitated.
That was the part that burned the deepest.
Not his betrayal. Not even the fact that he had helped Thomas escape.
But that hesitation…
That hesitation meant that somewhere beneath Catherine’s shackle, beneath Marcus’ influence, beneath whatever poison had been layered over his will, the man I had once known was there. He had heard me.
He had stopped.
For one impossible second, he had almost come back.
And then he had chosen—or had been forced—to leave.
By the time we returned to Nightfang, my wild emotions had condensed into something cold, sharp, and dangerous.
