"Blackthorne," the man said, voice low but edged.
"Vale," Lucien returned smoothly. His gaze didn't waver.
Liora blinked, realizing at once that this must be Rowan Vale, the man Lucien trusted yet rarely spoke of aloud.
The tension between them was palpable, the kind that spoke of old alliances strained by unspoken truths.
Rowan's eyes darted briefly to Liora, assessing, before returning to Lucien.
"You should not have come back here," he said flatly. "Not while his shadow still walks these streets."
Lucien leaned forward, his voice dropping. "Then you've seen him."
Rowan's jaw tightened. "I have. And if you've seen him too, then you already know the truth we buried years ago is no longer safe."
Liora's chest constricted. The way Rowan's words hung in the air told her this was more than politics. This was personal.
Lucien exhaled slowly, almost as though the weight of it was crushing him. "Darius Vale," he said at last. "Alive. And walking free."
