Marc’s Point of View
The room was quiet, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over the space, but the silence wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy, like the calm before a storm. Cole sat on the edge of the bed, his head bowed slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck, his tension palpable even in the subdued light. I stood near the dresser, absently folding the shirt I had discarded earlier, my eyes fixed on Lucienne. She stood near the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stared into the night.
My fingers moved methodically, smoothing out the fabric of the shirt, creasing it along lines I didn’t care about but couldn’t stop obsessing over. Fold the sleeve inward. Match the edges perfectly. Smooth again. The shirt had already been folded three times, but it gave my hands something to do, a way to release the restlessness building in my chest.
Cassius was pacing in my mind, his agitation bleeding into my every thought. “Comfort her. Go to her. Hold her.” H
