"She hasn't eaten, my Lord," said the maid who led Lucas to the door.
"You may leave," he said to her, and she bowed before taking her leave.
Without knocking, Lucas opened the door, his eyes landing on the small female curled up in the corner of her room.
Her arms were wrapped around her folded knees, face buried between them, with her hair spilling over her back and arm.
"If you're starving yourself to avoid questioning, then you're completely wrong, little wolf."
Slowly, Lylah looked up at him without a word. Her eyes were red and swollen—she had been crying.
"Where am I? And who the hell are you?" she asked in a croaky voice, laced with pain and anger.
Lucas raised a brow, clearly not expecting such a curt question from her. Her elbow concealed part of her face, but her gaze was
