Morning didn’t arrive gently.
It seeped into Lucien’s quarters like a slow tide — pale light slipping through the narrow reinforced window, warming the stone walls, softening the edges of the room that had felt so heavy the night before.
I woke slowly, my body sinking into the mattress, my mind drifting somewhere between sleep and awareness. For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was.
Then I felt it.
A presence.
Warm.
Steady.
Close.
Lucien sat beside the bed, exactly where he’d promised he would be. His elbows rested on his knees, his head tilted slightly toward me, eyes half‑closed — not asleep, but resting.
Watching over me.
I shifted slightly. His eyes opened instantly.
“Aria.”
His voice was soft, rough from the night, warm in a way that made my chest tighten.
I swallowed.
