[Violet]
I woke with a groan, my head pounding. One hand flew to my temple. It was tender, throbbing in protest as I sat up slowly. My movements were stiff and disoriented.
The air smelled faintly of perfume and I recognised the scent as Lucien’s.
This wasn’t the kitchen. It wasn’t where I remembered being. No sink. No blood on the tiles. Instead, I was in a bedroom. Dim light filtered through thick curtains. I recognized the tall dresser in the corner. Lucien’s room.
To my left, he sat on a chair, hunched over with his elbows braced against his knees, his face buried in his palm. He looked like a statue carved out of rage and restraint. A deep frown cut into his mouth, and his brow was creased so tightly I thought they might meet.
He hadn’t noticed me. His mind was far, far away—in f
