“Good. I’ll see you soon.”
“Ronan,” Lucien said before he could hang up.
“Yeah?”
“Did anyone survive the attack in the woods?”
“Willow escaped.”
Lucien wasn’t surprised by this revelation; if anyone survived, it was the tough Byrne woman. “Anyone else?”
“No.”
Lucien felt like someone punched him in the gut as his shoulders hunched forward. He was in charge of that mission, and those were his men and women who were lost.
“You did the best you could,” Ronan said. “There were a lot of Savages in those woods, and you held them off long enough to give the others a chance to escape. Willow is alive because of that. No one else could have done any better.”
Lucien appreciated Ronan’s words, but those deaths would haunt him for the rest of his life. He recalled those brutal moments in the woods when he’d struggled to keep the horde of Savages from pursuing the others. Was there more he could have done?
He wanted to say no, but maybe if he’d done one thing differently, more would have survived. He didn’t have the time to delve into an analysis of it all now, but he would later, and thousands of more times over the years.
“There’s something else you should know,” Lucien said.
“What is it?” Ronan asked.
“My brother is a Savage. He was in those tunnels, hunting us. I saw him when we escaped their underground layer.”
Ronan didn’t reply for a few seconds, but then, he was just learning about Lucien’s brother.
“You have a brother?”
“Yes. I’d hoped he was dead, but he’s not. And he hasn’t been my brother since the day he slaughtered my family centuries ago.”
Silence stretched between them again before Ronan spoke once more. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“I have no doubt. We’ll be there soon,” Ronan said gruffly.
“We’ll be waiting.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lucien kepthis sunglasses in place as he studied the patrons in the diner. His fingers drummed on the tabletop until Callie rested her hand over the top of his.
“Stop that,” she said.
Lucien turned to smile at her, but it felt strained as he kept his ears attuned for any hint of a threat. They were in broad daylight, no one would attack them here, but his body still thrummed with tension as he shifted his attention to the plate glass windows running along the front of the diner.
Callie released his hand and sat back as the waitress arrived with her plate of pancakes, bacon, and sausages. Her stomach rumbled again, and her face reddened when the woman set the plate in front of her.
However, she forgot about her embarrassment as she lifted her fork and knife. Her hands hovered over the plate like a surgeon about to make their first cut.
“Do you need anything else?” the woman asked as she topped off Callie’s coffee.
“No, I’m good,” Callie said.
The woman vanished, and Callie lifted the glass container of maple syrup from its tray beneath the window. With glee, she poured the thick, brown liquid onto her stack of pancakes with its whipped butter melting in the center of them.
