Lucas stood near the center of the summit hall, posture composed, expression unreadable.
His grandfather was speaking with a trade envoy from the northern provinces. Riven stood nearby, monitoring the flow of conversation. The room was full—nobles, diplomats, clan representatives, and Nexus executives. Media hovered discreetly at the edges, capturing every handshake, every glance.
Velmira was here.
Of course they were.
They were one of the richest families in the region.
Influential. Strategic. Dangerous.
Lucas had planned for that.
What he hadn’t planned for—what he never would’ve allowed—was Elara being anywhere near this place.
She wasn’t supposed to be here.
She wasn’t safe here.
And then the seal pulsed.
Not softly.
Not subtly.
It spiked—sharp, panicked, like a scream muffled beneath skin.
Lucas turned immediately.
No. No no no.
He leaned toward Riven.
“Contact Elara. Now.”
Riven blinked.
“She’s not—”
“Check.”
Riven pulled out his phone, confusion flickering across his face.
Lucas scanned the room.
The seal pulsed again.
Trembling.
Like someone trying not to cry.
Riven’s voice was low.
“She’s here.”
Lucas’s blood ran cold.
“What?”
“Admin voted her in. Emergency delivery. One of the staff had an accident. No one told us.”
Lucas didn’t respond.
He was already moving.
He found her near the logistics table.
Frozen.
Two Velmiran security personnel stood nearby—men Lucas recognized from surveillance reports. China. The incident Elara never spoke about.
She was pale.
Still.
Trying not to shake.
He stepped in.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
He moved beside her, close enough that his presence blocked her from view.
“Elara.”
She turned, startled.
“Lucas—”
Her voice cracked.
She looked around—too fast, too wide-eyed—and then her fingers gripped his suit jacket.
Tightly.
Like instinct.
Like survival.
She didn’t speak.
She just buried her face against his shoulder, trembling.
Lucas didn’t move.
He didn’t touch her back.
Didn’t draw attention.
Didn’t let anyone see.
He angled his body, shielding her from view, lowering his voice.
“You’re okay.”
She nodded against him.
“I didn’t know they’d be here. I didn’t mean to—”
“You shouldn’t have been sent.”
His jaw tightened.
What were they thinking? Voting her in? Letting her walk into this?
He scanned the room.
Media lenses.
Velmiran eyes.
Too many threats.
He leaned slightly, voice low.
“Don’t look up. Just breathe.”
She nodded again, still gripping his jacket.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be.”
“I didn’t want you to know.”
“I felt it.”
Her breath hitched.
Lucas shifted, subtly guiding her toward a quieter hallway—shielding her with his body, keeping his expression neutral.
No one can see her like this. Not here. Not now.
He didn’t speak again until they were out of sight.
Then:
“You’re safe.”
She looked up, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.
“I didn’t mean to grab you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
She blinked.
“Lucas—”
“I’ll handle the admin team later.”
And I will.
She looked away, flustered.
Why is he like this? Why does he know exactly when to show up?
The seal quieted.
But the tension between them didn’t.