Lucian Thornewell didn’t move a muscle—he merely turned his head. His gaze flicked to Tobias, and in that look was everything he didn’t say out loud: Now. Immediately. Call.
Tobias didn’t ask questions. He didn’t react. He just reached for his phone and hurried toward the hallway, pressing the device to his ear. His voice faded into the background, but urgency vibrated in every syllable. Lucian looked back at Andromeda.
Her head still rested against his chest. Her body felt light—but only because her soul was barely clinging on. Her fingers hung lifelessly, her skin was cold, her breathing shallow and faint. Lucian hesitated for just a second.
Then he held her tighter—and lifted her into his arms.
His grip was secure. The way you hold someone not as a prisoner, but as something—someone
