Lucian stood in front of the grand mirror in his private chambers, his hands shaking with fury as he pressed a cold cloth against his bleeding skull. He was practically vibrating with rage, spitting out a continuous stream of venomous curses aimed entirely at Evangeline.
"That psychotic, wretched whore..." he snarled, his voice echoing sharply against the stone walls. "I will tear her down for this. I will make her crawl."
But as the words left his lips, a sudden, icy shiver ran down his spine. The heavy air in the room grew suffocatingly still. Lucian froze, his breath catching in his throat. It was the distinct, visceral sensation of being watched—not just looked at, but targeted by a pair of invisible, predatory eyes gleaming with pure malice from the shadows.
He whipped his head around, his gaze frantically scanning the dimly lit corners of his room. "Who's there?!"
Silence answered him. There was no one.
