Blood ,Fire and Frost
“Nor me.”
“But what if prophecy—” she began, the word catching in her throat like a splinter.
Lucien’s grip tightened with sudden intensity, not enough to hurt—just enough to remind her he was real, here, unmovable. His eyes locked on hers, sharp with certainty.
“Prophecy is a warning,” he said, each word precise, deliberate. “Not a verdict.”
Rowan nodded into her hair, breath warm against her skin. “And fate bends for the Axis,” he added softly. “Not the other way around.”
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