AVELA’S POV
“Let me drive you home.”
His voice was low but firm.
I blinked at him, still standing by the elevator. “Lucas, it’s late. You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he interrupted softly. His eyes held mine—steady, warm, pleading. “Please.”
That one word disarmed me completely.
I sighed, looking away. “Lucas, I can handle myself.”
“I know,” he said. “But you’ve had a long day. Just… let me do this.”
His tone wasn’t commanding. It was gentle, almost protective. And something in me—something tired and worn from the endless battle with Cameron—just gave up fighting.
I exhaled, defeated. “Fine. But only because I don’t have the energy to argue.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “Good enough for me.”
We walked out of the building together. The air outside was cool, the night quiet
