Celina’s POV
“I WANT out of here, Lucien.” My voice was sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. “I am not your prisoner.”
His gaze lifted from the papers on his desk, slow, deliberate. “You’re not a prisoner. You’re protected.”
“That’s not protection. That’s control,” I snapped, stepping closer to the edge of his desk. “I can’t breathe in this place—between you and Rhys like some prize you’re both circling. I’m done. I want my freedom.”
Lucien leaned back in his chair, studying me for a long beat before the corner of his mouth curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. Then he laughed. Low. Cold.
“You think you can just walk away?” His eyes were like a wolf’s before the kill—sharp, unblinking. “You carry the heir to my bloodline, Celina. The Council would tear you apart bef
