Patricia's POV...
I have been trying to call Lucian since the day I gave Camilla to James.
Nothing.
No answer.
No call back.
No nothing.
The phone felt cold against my ear. Dead. Like him. Like everything.
I tried again. Straight to voicemail. Again. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail.
Twenty times. Thirty. I lost count.
The room was dark. Curtains drawn. No light. No sound except the robotic voicemail voice repeating the same words over and over.
The person you are trying to reach is unavailable.
I know. I know. I know.
The sheets were tangled around my legs. Sweat-soaked. I hadn't changed them in days. They smelled like me—fear and sleeplessness and the expensive perfume I kept spraying hoping it would make me feel human again.
It didn't work.
Is he dead?
The thought came cold and sharp. A blade I couldn't pull out.
No. He can't be. He's Lucian. He survives everything.
But his line is dead.
And I did this.
I handed her over.
I made him lose her.
