Lucien's POV
The car was filled with silence. The kind of heavy, tight silence that felt like it had teeth. I could hear the soft click of Vincent's light pen beside me as he scrolled through coordinates on his tablet. The headlights cut through the dark road, and every few seconds the trees outside flashed past, long shadows bending under the glow.
I was beginning to lose my patience. Fear and anxiety were seeping into my head. The facade of a collected and calm mind was starting to fall apart. I took a glance behind me.
Keating sat between two guards in the backseat, wrists bound with rope, lip split, eyes filled with that blend of fear and arrogance that only a man with half a death wish could carry. I'd seen his kind before—men who thought they could negotiate their way out
