"Hold on, I'm coming."
Lucien hung up the phone, the sound of Ken's broken voice still vibrating in the cold air of the penthouse. He grabbed his keys and left the building in a blur of motion. The drive to Ken's apartment was executed at top speed; he could have bridged the distance in a mere second if he had chosen to step through the shadows, but he was intent on bringing Ken back to the Dark Tower in a way that felt human, grounded, and safe. The supernatural was not the way to go about it—not yet.
He arrived at Ken's apartment in fifteen minutes, a drive that usually took twice as long. He hurried out of the SUV and reached the door, his heart—or the phantom sensation of one—hammering against his ribs. He knocked gently.
"Bae, I'm here. Are you alright?" Lucien queried, his hand resting on the wood, waiting.
