Darian
“Lucian is home,” I said softly.
For a heartbeat, my father simply stared at me, stunned. Then the relief crashed over him like a wave. His shoulders fell, the tension melting from his frame, and a light entered his eyes that I hadn’t seen in weeks.
“When?” he asked, voice thick with disbelief and hope.
“Late last night. He commandeered a private jet and came in with a prisoner—someone who’s identified Chase Nighthorn and can help map out their entire underground network.”
My father exhaled sharply, his mouth parting in awe. His hands clenched the arms of his chair, and he shook his head slowly, trying to absorb it all.
“After all these weeks hunting shadows. We finally have something.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “We’ve been blind for too long.”
“He must’ve gone through hell
