CHAPTER 88
Clara stilled at the door. She had known Lucian long enough to understand what that tone meant. It was not a request. It was a warning.
Still, she hesitated. The room was thick with Isabella's lingering presence, and beneath it, she could feel something far more unstable — the bond, stretched thin but alive, vibrating with suppressed emotion.
"Lucian," she said carefully, "if you're trying to track her through the bond, you shouldn't push too hard. It's weakened. Forcing it could—"
"Leave." The word was quiet. Clara's lips pressed together. For a brief moment, her restored magic stirred defensively, reacting to the sharp edge in his aura.
Then she turned and stepped out, closing the door behind her. Silence fell. Complete. Lucian inhaled slowly.
Then exhaled.
Again and again until he leaned back slightly, letting his hands rest against his knees, his posture deceptively relaxed.
But inside, he was forcing himself to remember.
