Lucas’ POV “Fourth Prince… are you sure this is the place?” James’s fingers brushed lightly against my sleeve as he spoke, his voice lowered to almost nothing, as though even the air around us could hear. His eyes never stopped moving, from corner to corner, from shadow to shadow. He obviously did not like this place nor anything that carried the word luck within this Scared Exile. Here, luck was not really fortune. Most times, it was just the last thing a man held on to before dying. Before any of us could take another step forward, a furious scream came through the air. “You bastards! Even if I die, I won’t let any of you go!” The words ended abruptly as a middle-aged man, with his face split by a long, ugly scar, came crashing down from a high structure above us. BAAM! SPLASHHot blood splashed everywhere, including Saint’s face. It was warm and thick, dripping from his cheek. Saint paused, blinked once, then calmly wiped his fingers across the blood and brought them to his li
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