AVELA’S POV
The moment Lucas said the words, “My mother was…” something cold slipped down my spine.
It wasn’t what he said.
It was how he said it.
Quiet. Fractured. Like he’d reached into a part of himself he kept padlocked.
I turned to him quickly. “Your mother was what?”
He didn’t answer. His eyes drifted away, landing somewhere far outside the windshield—even though we were parked deep inside the underground entry of my building.
For a few long seconds, he didn’t speak at all. Then he inhaled sharply, his shoulders rising like he was preparing for a blow.
“This is something I don’t like to talk about,” he said finally.
His voice was rough—scraped raw. Nothing like the controlled, steady Lucas everyone else saw. This one was vulnerable in a way that made my heart twist.
He lift
