Lucavion didn't even flinch.
No gasp. No twitch. No flicker of pain across his expression.
He met Lucien's burning eyes with calm, unblinking black.
Not defiance.
Not arrogance.
Just—
Stillness.
As if he had expected it.
As if this grip meant nothing.
Lucien's fury spiraled.
He pushed harder.
Just enough that the bones in most men's wrists would scream.
Still—
Lucavion's hand remained steady. His smile remained faint.
And his gaze?
It never left Lucien's.
Never blinked.
Never bowed.
Lucavion's hand remained still—unyielding, calm, unnaturally unwavering beneath Lucien's crushing grip.
And then—
He smiled.
Subtle. Quiet. Like the tilt of a dagger under velvet.
His lips barely moved. A whisper shaped not for ears, but for comprehension alone.
"You should have listened to Seran."
The words landed like poison-tipped arrows behind Lucien's eyes.
'What…?'
His breath caught.
It couldn't be.
'No. That name…'
