- Lucien Drave :
The smell of blood and ash clung to the night air, thick and suffocating. I barely noticed it.
I stepped over the remnants of the fight, my boots disturbing the fine layer of dust where bodies had once stood. It was always the same. The killing. The burning. The way they crumbled to nothing.
I didn't look back at Ronan. I didn't want to see the expression on his face. I know what I will find in his eyes. Disappointment, anger, shock and confusion.
The cabin door creaked open as I pushed inside. The warmth of the fire barely reached me. Elara was waiting, standing near the table, her hands clenched together as if she'd been praying.
She wasn't. I knew that. But she still looked at me like she was hoping for some kind of miracle.
Her eyes flicked past me, searching. "You are okay. Thank God… Ronan? Is he okay?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have to. He followed a second later, the door clicking shut behind him.
