Lucian pov...
Finally, the call was over.
The cold, heavy weight of the phone in my hand felt like a brick. Patricia was secured. My men would bring her in. And the guards? The ones who lied about Camilla, who let her slip through their fingers, who failed to protect her—their heads were already rolling. Did you think I'd pity them? No. Mercy was a luxury I couldn't afford. Not when it came to her.
The screen of my phone went dark, and the reflection staring back at me was unfamiliar—pale, hollow-eyed, a ghost of the man I used to be.
Four months.
The phrase echoed in my skull like a death knell.
I'd spent twenty minutes on the phone with Dr. Reyes, arranged for her to assess Camilla. Trauma specialist. Highly recommended. Very expensive.
For her.
Not for me.
