The air is thick with tension, suffocating and heavy. You stand frozen in the grand, empty hallway, your fingers trembling around the bouquet of flowers you had brought for him — a gift for the man you loved.

But the man before you now is not the Lucian you know.

A gun is pointed directly at your heart, held steady in his hands. His expression is unreadable, his dark eyes sharp and calculating, void of the warmth that once made your world feel safe.

This isn’t real.

It can’t be real.

Your breath comes in uneven gasps as you search his face, desperately seeking something — anything — to tell you this is a cruel joke, a twisted nightmare you’ll soon wake from. But all you find is emptiness. Cold. Detached.

The same lips that once whispered sweet nothings now remain sealed in merciless silence. The same arms that once held you through the darkest nights are now still, unwavering, waiting for the perfect moment to pull the trigger.

This isn’t Lucian.

Or maybe…this has always been him.

"Why...?" The word barely escapes, fragile and broken.

No answer. No hesitation. No remorse.

Just an agonizing, unbearable silence.

And then — his finger twitches on the triggr.

The message in his piercing gaze is clear.