Author's POV
The woods were dark and quiet, the kind of quiet that made your skin crawl. A middle-aged man stood there, his hair streaked with silver, looking around like a nervous wreck. His eyes darted through the trees, expecting something, or someone to show up any second.
When the sound of footsteps finally broke the silence, he froze. His shoulders relaxed a little when he saw who it was. “Oh, it’s you,” he muttered, relief flooding his voice. He started walking toward the man. “I’ve been standing here for over an hour, Lucien. What the hell kept you?”
Lucien, tall and damn near regal-looking for someone pushing seventy, offered a half-assed smile. “Sorry, John,” he said. “Got held up.”
John’s brows pulled together as he studied him. Lucien’s long brown hair fell to his shoulders
