Her attention sharpened on him again. “Tell me, young man… are you here to protect her, or distract her?”
Byron swallowed once, then steadied himself. “If I am honest… both. But I would never let anything happen to her.”
Something flickered across Mary’s face, not approval, but recognition.
“A fair answer,” she murmured. “But do not mistake my calm for softness. You are not immune to consequences where she is concerned.”
She stepped in, close enough that only he could hear her. Her voice dropped to a velvet threat.
“Lucy is not just important. She isessential. If you hurt her, I do not care how quickly your body repairs itself, I will make sure you stay down.”
Byron’s jaw tightened, but he did not move.
“Noted.”
Lucy blinked between them, confused. “Wait, how did you know he heals fast?”
Mary finally glanced her way, a small smile tugging at her lips, “Oh, my darling… I know far more than you think.”
Then to Byron, her hand briefly brushing his shoulder warm but warning.
“Keep your word, and you will have me in your corner. And trust me, there’s no better place to be.”
Just as abruptly, she stepped back and clapped her hands lightly.
“Now, the two of you off you go. I need a nap before these bones start filing complaints.”
Byron and Lucy slipped out, neither speaking until they were safely down the hall.
Lucy broke first, a laugh escaping her mouth.
“Well… at least that’s done.”
Byron exhaled hard. “I have walked into enemy fire without flinching, but your mum? She nearly turned me to stone.”
Lucy grinned, bumping her shoulder against his.
“So, the mighty Byron finally has a weakness… my mum?”
He gave a crooked smile. “And your pussy!” he whispered
Lucy froze, her mouth dropped opened wide, Byron placed a finger under her chin “You really do keep begging for me to fill it?” as he gently forced it shut!
Lucy huffed, whilst grabbing Byron's hand, pulling him away from Mary’s door, putting a swift end to his foul imagination
Chapter 4
Everyone had taken a short rest before regrouping in the dining area. Instead of tossing Mary straight into kitchen duty, Lucy and Sam had decided to put something together themselves. It was not as elegant as Mary’s spreads, but it did not need to be. The table brimmed with breads and cheeses, sundried tomatoes, olives, meats, and crackers. Easy food, fun food, the kind that brought people together without fuss.
Once everyone was seated, the chatter dulled into a low hum, all eyes inevitably sliding to Lucy. She took a slow breath, her fingers brushing the rim of her glass before setting it down with care.
“There’s a lot I need to tell you,” She began. Her voice carried a quiet weight, enough to draw every gaze onto her.
She spoke of the company first, how she had taken control and how she had confronted her uncle. She explained the twisted truths she had uncovered about her parents, and how the life she thought was hers had been nothing but a fragile illusion. And finally, she told them what she was.
By the time she finished, silence hung over the table like smoke.
Sam’s knife stilled in her hand, the blade clattering softly against her plate. She narrowed her eyes at Lucy. “You are telling me you’re… what? An alien?”
