He kept holding Declan’s hand until Deck fell asleep, his bruised hand clinging onto him as if he was afraid to let go.
As if he was afraid that if released him, the guards would come for him again. That Coza would brutalize him if he let go.
King Lucien sprang from the bed, his chest heaving.
He closed his eyes tight; the burning in his stony heart was so much he feared it’d burn him alive.
Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.
Declan.
He was suffocating. The worst kind of nightmare. The most painful memories are always those of Declan.
They always left him in a rage. In pain. Disorganized. And dangerously close to tears.
He lived with the guilt that he had failed his people for those ten years. He failed them by not freeing them of that hellhole earlier than he did.
But that guilt was n
