Lucian's pov
My arms tightened around Alina, but the warmth of her body did nothing to cool the storm raging in my chest. My eyes darkened as that fucking memory slammed into me again—her lips pressed against Aiden's, the way she'd leaned into him instead of shoving him away. I forced a smile when she pulled back, the expression feeling like a knife twisting in my gut.
"We should go home," she murmured.
Before I could respond, the two injured men staggered up, clothes torn and streaked with dried blood. One of them lowered his head, voice rough.
"We're sorry, Lucian. Aiden came out of nowhere. Ambushed us before we could—"
"Save it," I cut in, my tone flat. "Just go home. Rest."
