Lucas’s POV
I threw my arm over Mia’s shoulders, letting my weight rest against her just enough to keep her grounded.
She was shaking. She tried to hide it, locking her knees and clenching her small, blood-stained left hand into a tight fist inside Micah’s silk handkerchief, but I felt every single tremor running through her frame. The drug in her system, the blood oath on the stone dais, and now the sight of a small army waiting in the dark—it was enough to break most people.
But Mia just stood there, her hazel eyes glittering under the moonlight, staring down at the sea of black-clad initiates with pure, unadulterated fire.
God, I loved that look on her face.
Sprawled out across the massive clearing at the edge of the Bel-Air forest, hundreds of pledges—both men and women—knelt in r
