Initially, the stairwell lit up as we moved, but the lights slowly died down as Lucian stopped in one place.
My back was against the wall, and there was nowhere to go unless I kneed my husband on the groin, and I don't really think that would be a wise choice.
I probably looked odd as I stared at his torso, but that was a far better option than staring at his face.
"What are we doing here?" I grumbled. It was not really the most brilliant question at a time like this, but the atmosphere was too charged not to say anything.
"To interrogate fugitives." Lucian's fingers traced my jaw, ultimately landing on my chin, as he got me to look up at him.
I didn't know what to expect; it was relatively dark, and the only light we got was from a single-step light.
He looked like an angry cat to me, but I couldn't help but notice how there was a tinge of worry. The same way cats would paw at you but take a second look to confirm that you're still alive.
