Trevor didn't even argue. He just reached over, silenced his phone, and tossed it face-down onto the nightstand with the kind of composure that made Lucas want to strangle him.
"Get ready," Trevor said, his voice almost too calm.
Lucas blinked. "You're serious?"
Trevor was already up, loosening his shirt cuffs. "We just need to shower, dress, and get out before Serathine finishes breakfast."
Lucas didn't even try to argue anymore. "Fine. Shower, dress, flee. No goodbyes or pregnancy talk."
Trevor, halfway to the bathroom, glanced back with that infuriating calm. "See? You're learning."
"Learning," Lucas muttered, "to run before breakfast."
By the time the water shut off and the faint scent of Serathine's jasmine soaps filled the air, Lucas had gathered his clothes and what was left of his dignity. Ten minutes later, they were both mirror-ready or close enough for fugitives from polite society.
