The forest felt wrong.
Not just dangerous.
Not just quiet.
Not just dark.
Wrong.
Like the trees were holding their breath.
Like the shadows were watching.
Like Marcus was everywhere and nowhere at once.
Lucien didn’t let go of my hand.
Not once.
Not even when the terrain shifted.
Not even when Cole whispered that the grid was glitching.
Not even when Rhett muttered that something was off.
His fingers stayed wrapped around mine, warm and steady, his thumb brushing my knuckles in a slow rhythm that betrayed the storm inside him.
“Aria,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “stay right here.”
I nodded. “I’m not leaving your side.”
He exhaled — slow, relieved, fragile.
But the softness didn’t last.
His posture shifted.
His jaw tightened.
His eyes darkened.
Rhett froze. “Prez…
