LUCIAN'S P.O.V.
Three days. That's how long it took to scrub the stench of battle from the mansion. Three days to repair every shattered window, every claw-marked wall, and every ounce of pride Teresa managed to restore with her defiance. Three days to convince myself that I wasn't dreaming when she fought so incredibly to protect our children.
Not that I was done. Lilith, Cain, and their lackeys were rotting in the dungeons beneath my estate—a place where even the walls seemed to whisper fear. I'd stood before them after the fight, letting Ares' low growl roll through my chest, his rage and mine intertwining like smoke.
"You'll be hearing from me soon," I'd promised them, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. "But for now, I have more pressing matters to attend to."
The sound of their curses and snarls followed me out, but I didn't care. My world was upstairs, with Teresa and the babies, not in the dark with those fools.
