TERESA'S P.O.V.
Last night after Lucian left me with those cryptic words, my night had been a restless one. I barely slept. My mind kept replaying his teasing smirk and that maddening question: How do you know I'm just a helpless human? The question itself wasn't as terrifying as the way he said it—like it wasn't a question at all, but a revelation I wasn't ready to face.
By morning, my exhaustion was drowned out by the chaotic energy around the estate. There were more people than usual, all bustling around with an air of urgency. It was like stepping onto the set of some action film where everyone knew their role except me. I noticed a group of men shadowing me, clearly guards, though they were trying—and failing—to blend in. Seven. Seven bodyguards. And leading them was Juliette, pushing the twins' stroller like some badass nanny straight out of a spy thriller.
