Lucian's POV
"Lucian…"
The rasp of my father's voice cut through the steady beep of the heart monitor. Marcus Westin lay pale against the white sheets, his once-commanding presence shrunk into a frail shadow. Tubes ran into his arms, the drip feeding him fluids with each slow, measured drop.
I leaned closer, forcing my expression into one of concern, though my pulse was anything but calm.
"You need to call Damon," he said, each word dragged out like it cost him more strength than he had to give. "And Aria Harper… I want to see them. Both. Now."
I clenched my jaw. Of all the names he could have spoken, why theirs? "Father," I began, my voice tight, "there's no need. You've just recovered from a health scare. Stress will only make it worse."
His eyes, pale and sharp despite his frailty, bored into mine. "Lucian, I said call them."
