SELENEA’S POV
I sat bolt upright in Lukas’s bed, his arms still locked around me, his tears damp against my shoulder. His sobs had quieted, but his grip hadn’t loosened, fingers digging into my back like I’d vanish if he let go. My own cheeks stung, wet and raw, though I couldn’t pin why I’d cried—his nightmare, his plea, or something deeper I wouldn’t name. The room smelled of sweat and fear, the air thick, pressing against my lungs.
Callan stood in the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the hall’s dim light, boots scuffing the hardwood. “Trouble,” he’d said, handing me a crumpled note, his voice steady but tight. My stomach flipped, the paper rough under my fingers as I unfolded it, Lukas’s breath hot on my neck.
“Trouble?” I asked, my voice hoarse, eyes flicking to Callan. “What t
