LUCIAN'S P.O.V.
The hospital room was silent except for the faint beeping of the heart monitors attached to Teresa. I sat slouched in one of the stiff hospital chairs, elbows on my knees, hands clasped together, my mind a whirlwind of frustration and helplessness. Ares was pacing in my head like a caged animal, snarling every few seconds.
"She'll wake up," I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else.
"She better, or someone will pay, Lucian." Ares growled.
Before I could respond, the door creaked open, and Adrian strode into the room, his gait as slow and deliberate as ever, carrying a small paper bag in his hand. His expression was a mix of triumph and barely concealed irritation. Typical Adrian — looking like he had just come from casually conquering kingdoms.
