AVELA’S POV
Lucas’s hand was already on the doorknob when panic clawed its way up my throat.
Before I even realized what I was doing, my arms moved on their own—wrapping tight around his waist from behind.
“Please,” I whispered against his back, my voice breaking. “Lucas… don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
He went rigid.
For a heartbeat, he didn’t breathe. Didn’t move.
Then his hand tightened around the knob, like he was fighting with himself, and he tried to pry my hands off gently—but firmly. “Avela,” he growled, low and dangerous, “let me teach him a lesson.”
“No.” I held him tighter, my fingers shaking as they clutched the fabric of his shirt. “Please… please don’t go.”
“Avela—”
“I’m serious,” I choked out. “Don’t do this.”
He turned halfway, trying to face me, but my arms onl
