The whiskey dripping from Lucien's fingers hit the floor with soft taps. Nobody moved Damian, Mrs. Harper, not even me.
The grandfather clock continued ticking somewhere behind us, steady and indifferent, as though nothing had changed.
But something had i could feel it in him.
Lucien Vaughn stood frozen beside the broken glass, the muscles in his jaw shifting once beneath pale skin. The line of his shoulders had gone rigid, and for some reason, the sight unsettled me far more than his coldness ever had.
Angry men made sense.
This… whatever this was… didn't.
The sharp smell of whiskey mixed with coffee and rain. Somewhere outside, thunder rolled lazily through the dark sky.
Damian cleared his throat softly.
"Sir..."
Lucien blinked once just once then his voice came out low.
"Find
