“Darling,” Lucien’s voice cut through the air like a knife, smooth yet commanding. The very sound of it made me freeze, unsure of how to react. I turned to see him approaching, his long strides confident and purposeful as ever. He was smiling broadly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as they fell upon his mate.
But something felt off.
As Lucien reached us, he pulled Eveline into a hug, his arms encircling her waist as he leaned in for a kiss. She allowed it, but there was a stiffness to her posture, a coldness in the way she barely tilted her head toward him. Her hands remained at her sides, limp, as if this show of affection was something she had grown indifferent to. I caught the briefest glimpse of her expression—impassive, her icy blue eyes distant, focused on something far away from
