My breath hitched, and I couldn’t stop the wave of unease that crawled up my spine. The Lucas I remembered was warm, charming, always quick to throw a protective arm around me. This version of him felt colder, his words dripping with disdain.
"Nathaniel isn’t who you think he is," Lucas pressed, his voice lowering to an almost conspiratorial whisper.
I raised an eyebrow, trying to hide my mounting frustration. "So what? He’s not perfect? Who is?"
"You’re not listening," he snapped, his fist hitting the table. The loud crack drew a few curious glances from other patrons. Lucas didn’t care. "I’m saying he’s dangerous."
Dangerous. The word hung in the air between us like a bad omen. My mind flashed back to Nathaniel’s cold threats, the way his eyes burned with unspoken secrets.
"And you think you’re the expert on him now?" I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended.
Lucas's jaw clenched, his fingers raking through his dark hair. "Yes, because I’ve seen what he does to people who get in his way. And I won’t stand by while he drags you into whatever twisted game he’s playing."