Lucius's POV
Morning came. Or rather, it broke—like the sharp edge of a dagger sinking deep into my chest. The first rays of light stretched across the mountain, but my gaze was elsewhere. I couldn't tear my eyes from the horizon, searching for something I knew wouldn't come.
I knew the truth. I had killed Salem. I had taken him from her.
A shadow passed over me, but I didn't look at her—at Rose. I couldn't. I couldn't face her when I knew what I had done. She was standing there, looking out into the distance, a flicker of something uncertain crossing her face. The same uncertainty that gnawed at my insides, but worse—she was worried. She had no idea.
I watched her, arms crossed, body tense, lips parted in a quiet prayer. Please come back, her eyes begged the mountains. But Salem wasn't coming. I had made sure of that.
