The silence that followed Alessandro's entrance did not belong to peace.
It belonged to calculation.
Lucien did not turn his back on him.
Did not acknowledge the guards now lying motionless in the corridor beyond the shattered doorway.
Instead—
He looked at Elara.
And smiled.
"As I was saying," he continued calmly, as though they had not been interrupted at all, "your blood answered long before his bond awakened."
Grrr—
The sound that left Alessandro's throat this time was not a warning.
It was a promise.
Elara felt it like heat against her spine.
Alive.
Protective.
And dangerously close to breaking free.
"Enough," Alessandro said.
Lucien lifted a hand.
"Not yet."
Another pulse tore through the bond— not pain—
Tension.
Because Alessandro stopped.
Because he listened.
Because something in Lucien's voice had shifted from taunt to certainty.
"Go to hell," Elara rasped.
Lucien's gaze flicked to her.
"You should hear this."
"No."
"Yes."
