CHAPTER 120
The silence in the room was deafening, a sharp contrast to the intense, wet gasps that had filled it moments before.
Isabella sat on the edge of the bed now, the charcoal silk of Lucian's shirt sliding further down her shoulder, but she didn't care.
Her entire world had narrowed down to the dark smear of red on her fingertips. It was his blood. And it was far too much of it.
"Lucian, talk to me," she whispered, her voice trembling as she finally found her feet. The plush carpet felt cold beneath her bare toes, a stark reminder of how quickly the heat had vanished.
Lucian didn't move. He remained backed against the heavy doors, his shadow stretching long across the floor.
His breath was coming in slow, and he kept his hands at his side, though his knuckles were white.
The crimson in his eyes hadn't faded one bit, he looked like a man standing on a crumbling ledge.
