As I hurry back to the campsite, Lucian’s words echo in my mind. The way he spoke about me, the reverence in his voice when he called me “precious”…It makes me feel warm inside.
I wait for Lucian to return, and he takes his sweet time. The minutes stretch endlessly as I sit by the dying fire, Luna curled in my lap, both of us listening to the sounds of the forest. Every snapping twig makes my heart jump, even though I know there’s nothing left to fear from Andrew.
When Lucian finally comes back, he’s covered in blood.
It’s everywhere: splattered across his face, soaked into his shirt, coating his hands and forearms like crimson gloves. Some of it is fresh and bright red, while other patches have already begun to darken and dry. He moves with the same casual grace as always, as if being
