Lucio

Wood hit the wall hard enough to shake the little house, and there he was — standing in the doorway like a storm finally arriving after weeks of heavy clouds. Crossbow raised. Eyes blazing. Breathing sharp.

Beautiful.

“Get away from her, Lucio.”

Kiara gasped beside me, stumbling back against the table, but I barely heard her. My attention was entirely on him.

Always on him.

I turned my head slowly, letting my hair fall over one shoulder as if I had all the time in the world. As if his weapon wasn’t aimed directly at my heart.

“My favorite Hunter,” I murmured. “Always so punctual.”

His jaw tightened instantly.

Ah.

There it was again.

That look.

Not hatred. Never hatred.

Something far uglier.

Something desperate.

The scent coming off him filled the room stronger than the flowers I’d hung from the ceiling beams — pine smoke, leather, sweat, steel… and jealousy so thick I could almost taste it on my tongue.

I had been waiting for it all week.

“No games today,” he snapped. “Step away from her.”

I tilted my head. “Or what?”

The crossbow lifted a fraction higher.

Kiara looked between us in confusion, trembling. Poor thing. She truly thought she mattered here.

She didn’t.

She had only been bait.

A little flower left near the wolf’s den to lure the hunter closer.

And it worked.

It always worked.