LUCIAN'S P.O.V.
The knock at the door still echoed in my mind as I left the room, Teresa trailing closely behind me. Her scent—honey and lavender—wrapped around me like armor, calming the fire that had ignited in my chest at Alex's words. Maverick was here, and he wasn't alone.
The wooden floor beneath my boots groaned with each step as I descended the grand staircase. The faint hum of murmured voices beyond the mansion's double doors grew louder with each passing second. My heightened senses picked up every tremble of excitement, every whisper of doubt in the crowd. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of damp earth mingling with sweat and fear.
Teresa's hand brushed my arm, grounding me for a brief moment. "Lucian," she said softly, her voice steady despite the tension. "Are you sure about this?"