Chapter 20 · Shattered Bloodline

"Don't move a muscle, Lucian. Not one."

Vesper’s voice was a jagged blade. The cold steel of her barrel pressed hard into the center of his forehead, forcing his head back against the headrest of the wheelchair. He could smell the ozone from the Rift that had just closed, mixed with the metallic tang of blood and her sharp, frantic perfume.

Lucian didn't blink. He let his arms hang limp at his sides, the picture of a broken man. "You're shaking, Vesper. That's a dangerous way to hold a gun."

"Shut up!" she snapped, the muzzle digging deeper into his skin. "I saw it. In the mist. That silhouette... that wasn't some random shadow. That was you, wasn't it? You weren't just hiding in the clinic while some ghost did the killing. You were the ghost."

Lucian tilted his head a fraction, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "You're seeing things. Trauma does that."

"Bullshit!" Vesper stepped closer, her thigh brushing against the arm of his chair. The proximity was suffocating, a mix of lethal threat and raw, electric tension. "I saw the way those claws moved. I saw the command in the air.