Abigail's eyes widened at the sight before her. Lucian's blood-soaked body slumped against the tall, dark-haired stranger who had an air of mystery around him. His sharp eyes held no warmth, only urgency.
Abigail had a lot of questions to ask, but she could already see that Lucian was hanging by a thread. She would wait.
"Inside. Now," Abigail ordered, stepping aside. Her usual sarcastic tone was replaced with sharp control.
The stranger didn't waste time. He carried Lucian in, his jaw clenched. Olivia trailed closely behind, her hands clenched, mind racing.
Abigail cleared the table in one swipe, gesturing for him to lay Lucian down. The moment he did, she crouched beside him.
Abigail's brows furrowed deeply as she peeled Lucian's blood-stained shirt off. Her hands moved fast but precise, her voice low with tension as she examined the wound. The thick scent of metallic blood hung heavily in the room, mixing with the sharp smell of antiseptics.
