Elena's POVHe was Lucien — and he was nothing like the stories.He looked down at me. His gaze moved from the child in my arms to my torn sleeve, then to my face. "You have no bloodline power left," he said, "and you still ran in front of a gun?" His voice was quiet and unhurried, even tinged with a hint of gentleness, without a word of blame in it. I opened my mouth and couldn't find anything to say. The little girl was still shaking against me, and I put a hand on her back."She's young," I said. "I couldn't watch her die."Lucien looked at me for a moment, and something moved in his expression: brief and interested. "Remarkable. My future wife."Across the hall, Adrian had gone still. I could see it registering — the way I'd thrown myself in front of that girl, the instinct of it, the lack of hesitation. It must have reminded him of that day: I had done the same thing then, half-terrified with no guarantee it would work, and still put myself between him and the bullets.He spun
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