Celeste lay weak on the bed, her chest rising in the faintest, thinnest breaths.
Up close, she looked even paler, like one more exhale would carry her away. I inched toward her, my heart thumping hard against my ribs.
"Can all of you wait outside?" I asked quietly.
Silence followed.
I turned slightly, looking over my shoulder, "You too, Lucian."
Lucian's brows lowered instantly, "No."
I exhaled, trying again, "Lucian, please. I… I need to focus."
"You can focus with me here."
"Lucian," I said with a bit more firmness, "I want to speak to her alone."
His jaw tightened. His eyes flicked between me and the girl on the bed, same face, same shape, same everything.
Discomfort. Possessiveness. Worry. All tangled under his cold expression.
"No," he repeated. "Not happening."
"Lucian—"
"She's unstable," he murmured, stepping closer to me. "Who knows what would be happening—"
