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67. Lucien

Lucien

He strode out of the room, shutting the door softly behind himself.

Lucien left the room. He walked to his study, dragging the leg that seemed to be throbbing painfully. But the heaviness he felt within him, was what felt heavier than any physical ailment.

He had killed people before, with his bare hands himself. He had also employed men to kill those who stood in his way. But this was different. He felt as though he had mortally wounded a person who had only given him love, had trusted him, had believed in him.

Her words rang in his ears; she had waited for him. While he had been spending his nights trying to get over her, whoring his way through an endless stream of highly forgettable women who had not succeeded in making him get over her, all the while, she had believed in him, trusted in him, and waited for him.

How could she know how he had been trying to get over her? The women he had bedded were just bodies, no one stood in his memory after they had satisfied him physica
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