Mia sat up straighter, steeling herself. "Alright. Serious this time." She clasped her hands in her lap like she was about to interrogate a war criminal. "So, brother dearest, what type of suppressant do you take? When did you start, and how did you find them?"
Lucas didn't even hesitate. He shifted in his seat, crossed one leg over the other, and somehow managed to radiate disdain without moving more than an inch. His voice dropped lower, steady and sharp, carrying the kind of clipped bite that made Mia's stomach flip.
"Why?" he asked flatly. "So you can run and tell him? So you can remind me again that I'm a liability who shouldn't exist?"
Mia blinked, her mouth falling open. "What…"
Lucas leaned in, eyes narrowing with unshakable precision, his tone laced with cold amusement. "Don't stutter. If you're going to pry into my life, at least pretend you're clever while you do it."
