LUCIEN’S POV

“Andrea?” I whispered as I leaned forward, chair scraping against the stone. “Hey, buddy—please tell me what’s wrong?”

Adele was already half out of her seat, face soft with worry. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

His breath came in broken little gasps. Chocolate and tears smeared across his cheeks.

Adele slid her chair closer, voice gentle as moonlight. “Hey honey…tell me what’s wrong.”

Andrea wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing more mess across his face. That’s when I saw it.

A flash of red.

Just below the cuff of his shirt sleeve—faint but unmistakable. Finger-shaped marks. Bruises. Fresh enough that the edges were still...