Roman's POV
Jason and Lucian prepared a feast for the five of us… or rather, for six now.
Lucian had cooked dishes so flavorful they made us wonder if this bastard had missed his calling. Maybe he should've been a chef at some five-star hotel instead of a drug maker or savage killer.
Imagine a man who can slit a throat without flinching, killing in cold blood as if it were a daily chore, and yet the same man cooks like a seasoned family man. That combination didn't make sense, but then again, that was Lucian. You could never guess what he'd surprise us with next.
"It's ready," Lucian announced just as I stepped forward to help them set the table.
This time, though, there was a difference. Instead of five, six plates were served—like it was the most normal thing in the world. Jason and Lucian placed each dish with practiced ease, setting them neatly across the dining table.
Lucian pushed one plate toward me. "Go, feed this to that bitch."
