Lucian’s POV
The infirmary still smelled like burned magic.
Lucian stood at the far end of the corridor, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed—not in defeat, but in the rare, stolen moment when an Alpha allowed himself to breathe.
Footsteps approached. Unhurried. Familiar.
Casius stopped beside him and leaned against the stone wall, exhaustion rolling off him—tempered by something sharper. Pride.
“He held the line,” Casius said.
Lucian didn’t look up. “You both did. Congratulations—you made one hell of a warrior out of him.”
Casius huffed. “How’s our queen?”
Lucian barked a short laugh. “Pissed. She’s not tolerating anything f*****g with her babies.”
Casius grinned, then sobered. “In our debrief of the infirmary—and I’m sure Amalia already gave you the cinematic version—”
Luc
