Lucien stepped out of Lily’s room, his chest still heaving with anger. Just as he turned down the hall, his eyes caught the sight of Talia—bag slung over her shoulder, eyes red, steps hurried. She was leaving.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he called out sharply, his voice echoing through the corridor.

Talia paused only for a second before picking up her pace.

From the other end, Damon came rushing out of his room, shirt still unbuttoned, face pale. He’d heard the door and knew instantly what was happening.

“Talia, wait!” Damon called, catching up to her and grabbing her wrist gently. “Please, listen to me. I didn’t mean...