Lucian
Mara looked adorable—curled up with a sandwich in her lap, completely absorbed in her food like it was the only thing that mattered. I’d never seen her eat like this. After the chaos, the stress, and the throwing up, she deserved to inhale every bite.
There was a streak of mayo on the side of her mouth. I leaned in, brushed a hand along her cheek, and licked it off. She blushed, her eyes flickering down, but when I kissed her, she melted into it—just like always.
I didn’t want to go to breakfast. I wanted to stay in this bed, with her, pretending the world outside didn’t exist. But my father had called for a formal sit-down. We couldn’t blow it off. The attack had caught us off guard—it was too calculated, too well-timed. We were lucky we hadn’t lost more.
I couldn’t stop thinki
