Lukas sobered up the second he saw the face on the monitor. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
The person outside was still the same.
Nikki.
She was standing right in front of his door.
"Lukas, I need to talk to you," she said, her voice echoing through the speaker.
Lukas held his breath. His hand slowly curled into a fist while the muscles in his neck tightened.
Ever since the incident at the High Chamber, he had been spiraling toward madness.
He felt betrayed.
Hurt.
The friendship he once cherished felt as though it had died overnight.
Yet here she was.
Standing outside his door, as beautiful as ever. There was no visible remorse. No guilt. No sympathy.
If anything, she carried herself as though she had done nothing wrong.
What did he expect?
Nikki was never the type to grovel.
She was proud.
Once, that had been one of the things he admired most about her. Now, it hurt.. painfully so.
Because a part of him still admired it -- still found it impressive.
