Lucian's eyes widened. "Huh?" The sound left him before he could swallow it back.
Hunter's gaze sharpened. He leaned down slightly, just enough for the air between them to thin.
"Ethan," he muttered, each word edged with bitterness. "I fucking hate him."
The room fell into a heavy silence. The television still played the live broadcast, engines roaring faintly through the speakers, the crowd screaming somewhere far away , but inside the garage office, it felt muted, like the world had been shoved behind glass.
Hunter exhaled through his nose, jaw tight.
"So tell me, chiquitín…" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Do you freaking love him?"
Lucian's throat went dry. Why is he asking such a question now? What is he trying to gain out of this? Lucian thought "Me and him… we broke up."
"That was not my question, Lucien."
The correction landed hard. Clean. Precise.
