He simply stood there, watching Lucian with an intensity that sent a shiver down Lucian's spine.
For the first time in a long while, Lucian felt a flicker of fear.
He was too weak to fight, too drained to even lift a hand against a potential threat.
Ethan took a slow, deliberate step forward, his expression still inscrutable. He glanced over Lucian's shoulder at the battle-scarred scene they were leaving behind—the bodies, the blood, the devastation—and then back at Lucian.
The opportunity was perfect. Lucian was at his weakest, barely able to stand. Ethan's mind raced with the possibilities. He could end it now—kill Lucian and take control, seize power that had always eluded him. It would be so easy, just a swift strike, and it would all be over. Ethan could hear the whispers of ambition and resentment, memories of Lucian's many failures and his arrogant disregard for Ethan's own potential.
