Lucien's POV
The carriage rolled silently over the cobblestone streets, the air thick with the scent of pine and earth, the blood moon hanging low, a crimson sentinel over my ambitions. Selene sat bound, rigid with fury and fear, every muscle tense, every glance sharp. I could feel the pulse of her panic, the slight tremor in her hands, and I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile.
She was perfect. Too proud to bow, too stubborn to beg, too defiant to kneel. Just the way I liked my pawns.
"You're quiet," I murmured, my voice slicing through the tense silence. "Thinking about escape, I imagine."
Her eyes blazed, but she didn't answer.
Good. I preferred her silent. It allowed the tension to build, made her more malleable, more pliable for what awaited her.
