It was a long walk back to my small apartment, and the streets would be dark, slick, and dangerous at this hour.

Lucian looked at the gate, then back to the dog, who had not broken his gaze from my face.

Bishop did not move toward his master.

The dog’s amber eyes were locked onto me, his tail giving a single, hesitant wag.

A strange, quiet tension settled over the courtyard.

Lucian reached into his coat pocket, his fingers wrapping around something metallic.

Before he could pull it out, his phone buzzed violently in his breast pocket.

He paused, his gray eyes narrowing as he looked down at the glowing screen.

The light from the phone illuminated his face, casting sharp shadows across his nose and cheekbones.

“Draven,” he answered, his voice instantly cold and businesslike.

He listened for three seconds, his gaze shifting back to me, then down to Bishop, who remained firmly anchored to my side.

The expression on Lucian’s face hardened into something dangerous.

He didn’t speak another word into the receiver.

He simply tapped the screen and slid the phone back into his coat.