The question lands and everything in the cell goes still.
Axel freezes.
Atticus freezes.
I freeze.
The air feels thicker, heavier, like the stone itself is listening.
Lucian watches me with that same measuring expression, not triumphant, not amused, but intent, and something cold crawls down my spine despite myself because he does not look like a man throwing random words into the dark.
“I am not a vampire,” I say, my voice steady even though my pulse is starting to pound in my ears.
Lucian’s lips curve slightly.
“The vampire has not come out,” he replies softly, “but it is there.”
“That is bullshit,” I snap, sharper now, anger cutting through the shock, “my mother would never get with a vampire.”
Axel steps forward half a pace, tension rolling off him in waves, while Atticus’s j
