“What... what do you mean, what am I doing here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s my house.”
My father nodded slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don't doubt that, sweetheart. I'm just wondering why I received a frantic call in the middle of the night from a completely unhinged Lucian, begging me to tell him if I knew where you had gone.”
And there it was—the exact question I had dreaded from the moment I saw his car in my driveway.
I knew he was aware of my less-than-orthodox departure; after all, the text he’d sent me this morning hadn't left much room for interpretation. It was obvious that, sooner or later, he would demand explanations. The fact that Xander hadn't brought it up, despite undoubtedly receiving the exact same hysterical phone calls from Lucian,
