Lucien had barely closed his eyes all night. He lay in bed staring at the door, listening for any sign of Aria’s return. Every tick of the clock echoed like a hammer against his chest. Guilt gnawed at him, but fear—that deep, cold fear of losing her again—kept him wide awake.

In the next room, Damon walked in quietly and found Lucien still sitting upright.

*“She’ll come back,”* Damon said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Lucien rubbed his face. *“She’s not just mad at me, Damon. She’s broken. And I did that.”*

Damon didn’t argue. *“Go rest. I’ll wait for her. If she comes back and doesn’t want...