Lucian's POV
I wasn't looking for them.
Well… at least that's what I told myself.
From my vantage point on the far side of the rooftop, half-hidden behind a row of dented lockers no one had bothered to move since last spring, I could see them clearly.
Both of them.
Maeve and Elias. The sight made something low in my chest clench in a way I didn't care to examine.
Kael's voice, dry and smug, curled in my head like vapour, clinging like a foul smell.
Well, well. Guess you've lost the fight to Elias.
I huffed out something that might've passed for a laugh if anyone had been listening. "You know, it wasn't really a fight."
Oh, of course not. Kael's tone dripped with mock sympathy. You just… ceded the battlefield entirely. Like a gentleman. Very noble. Very tragic.
I ignored him and breathed in, a habit that was half-conscious, half-Lycan instinct.
I had been there, doing who knows what.
Just standing. Looking. Thinking. Of several things.
