Lucas didn't answer right away.
He chewed, slow and methodical, like he was tasting the thought instead of the food. The room around them was soft with morning light, filtered through curtains that moved slightly with the breeze. Steam curled from his cup. Silverware tapped gently against porcelain. Somewhere behind the silence, birdsong threaded through the open window like a lullaby meant for someone else.
Across from him, Trevor waited.
Not pressing. Just… waiting. Like he always did when the questions were heavier than they sounded.
Lucas's fingers tightened just slightly around his fork.
The first months after he awakened, he had only wanted one thing: to survive. No ambitions. No vendettas. Just the bare mechanics of breath and sleep and staying quiet enough that nothing in this world would try to take him again.
Serathine made that possible. Steady hands. A new name. A locked door between him and the past.
