Draven's Point Of View
"Because whether he survived or not," I said, my voice hard as stone, "I will make sure that anyone involved in this pays with their lives."
The words didn't echo.
They settled.
Like dust after an explosion… slow, heavy, inevitable.
Lucien was the first to react.
He nodded once. Slow. Thoughtful. His expression didn't soften, but something in his eyes shifted, acknowledgment, not approval. He'd never been the type to rush into rage.
Lucien dissected emotions the way surgeons dissected bodies: clean cuts, no wasted motion.
"I figured you'd say that," he said quietly. "But…"
Azriel's gaze snapped to him. "But what?"
Lucien didn't look at Azriel. His eyes stayed on me. Always me.
"Don't you find it strange," Lucien continued, voice even, "that this lead surfaced now?"
The garden seemed to grow colder.
Azriel frowned. "Strange how?"
