The blood still clung stubbornly to his skin, dark and tacky, a grim reminder that the violence had only just ended.
Lucien walked deeper into the woods, each step weighted with the unspoken tension, he didn't voice. Behind him, the rogue's snapped neck and body rotted into the earth, and even farther behind that, Anana, she was like a thought he couldn't shake off.
Her scent still lingered on his clothes, subtle, almost gone, but enough to drive him mad. An haunting reminder of something he feared to name.
He clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists as he stopped beside an old tree and leaned his forearm against the rough bark. His breath came slower now, but the chaos inside him had not subsided. If anything, it had gotten worse, more impossible to ignore.
“What the hell was
