"Ugh… huh, I'm Twin A," Adrian stammered, staring up at Lucien like he was some mythical creature descended from a chandelier.
He and Silas had never seen anyone like him. Sure, they'd seen blondes before—half the prostitutes dyed their hair that color—but Lucien's hair glowed in a way dye never could.
And those amethyst eyes? They sparkled like gems under real sunlight, a color they had never seen on a living person.
Add that dazzling smile, and their five-year-old brains practically short-circuited. Adrian could barely speak. Silas couldn't speak at all.
Lucien burst into laughter. "What? That's not a name! Never mind, we're leaving. This place is filthy."
He glared sharply at the man behind them, then grabbed the twins by their wrists and marched them toward the exit.
For children who had only known dark alleys and cramped brothel rooms, stepping into an open street felt unreal. But nothing prepared them for the car.
Their eyes went wide the moment they touched the seat.
