—LUCIUS—
Pain wakes me before sunlight does.
A deep, dragging burn at my ribs—muted only by the faint smell of disinfectant, tea leaves, and… vanilla.
Her scent.
For a moment, before memory catches up, I think I'm dreaming. I never sleep anywhere but in my penthouse, my bulletproof safe house, or the backseat of an armored car, if things are bad enough.
But this…
Ophelia.
She sheltered me in her home—in her bed, and kept watch over me the entire night. Every time I stirred slightly, she was still awake, carefully observing me. She even helped change my bandage every few hours, keeping my wound clean and fresh.
I chuckle inwardly.
…Some assassin she is.
I open my eyes fully, the light filtering in from her window waking me up. Her apartment is neat and hardly looks lived in—well, I guess it's more of her collection's apartment, not hers.
The shelves are beautifully organized, and all the closets and cabinets are locked. Curtains drawn tight against nosy neighbors.
