Lucien’s pov.

The rain that came that evening was unforgiving.

It seemed the heavens themselves had grown tired of holding back.

Matteo’s departure had been quiet. He’d packed what little he needed weeks ago but delayed the inevitable, hoping I’d say something more than orders or warnings.

Now, standing before the gates with his mate at his side, he looked like the man he was.

“You sure about this?” I asked.

He gave a faint smile. “You sound like you want to stop me.”

“I’m ...