The night was too quiet. That should’ve been the first warning. Zarek lay half-asleep beside Lucien, one arm thrown over his waist, breathing finally steady after hours of tearing through rage and ruin together. For a second, Lucien let himself believe they were safe. Until the phone buzzed again. The same blocked number. The same venom waiting in black letters: > “Last chance to tell him the truth.” Lucien’s stomach twisted. He turned the phone face down, praying Zarek wouldn’t wake— But Zarek’s voice cut through the dark like a blade. “Who keeps texting you?” Lucien froze. “Lucien.” Zarek sat up slowly, his silhouette sharp against the dim glow of the bedside lamp. “Show me the phone.” “It’s nothing,” Lucien lied. His voice cracked on the last word. Zarek’s jaw clenched.

