LUCIAN'S P.O.V.
As Teresa led me into my room, I felt the tension rolling off her in waves. Her hand was firm but gentle as she guided me toward the bed, a blend of resolve and hesitation in every step. When we reached the edge, she softly said, "Sit," and I obliged, sinking into the mattress.
She moved to take the baby from my arms. "I'll put her to bed in my room. You should get some rest," she said, her tone clipped but civil. Always civil—so painfully civil these days.
"I, uh…" I hesitated, scratching the back of my neck. Ares growled in frustration. "Say it, you fool!"
I tightened my hold on the baby, cradling my child against my chest. "Wait." My voice was softer than I intended, almost pleading. "Teresa, could you… could you and the babies stay here tonight? Just for tonight."
"What?" she asked, incredulous.
