Lucas’s POV
The fire in the den has burned down to embers, glowing red like the inside of my chest. My rogues sleep fitfully, sprawled across the cold stone floor, their wounds still raw, their breath shallow. I should be sleeping too, letting the body repair itself. But the ache in my ribs is nothing compared to the ache in my pride.
Caroline and Leona kneel before me like two shadows, silent, waiting for me to speak. They know better than to open their mouths first. The fury in me is too thick, too sharp. Leona tries to apply herbs to my wounds, but I push her away.
“You failed me,” I say at last, the words dragging through my teeth like blades. My voice echoes in the cave, louder than I intend. “You couldn’t even finish off a traitor who was already weak. Elsa still breathes. Amelia
