Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMRBZ30CDF6JNMHDF7CJFS

The door swung open before Rory could knock, her knuckles still hovering in the damp London air. Eva stood there, her dark curls wild as if she’d been running her hands through them all morning, her sharp brown eyes widening in a way that was equal parts surprise and suspicion. The scent of turmeric and cumin from the curry house below curled around them, thick and warm. “Rory?” Eva’s voice was half-laugh, half-accusation. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were avoiding me.” Rory exhaled, her breath fogging in the cold. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I’ve just been… busy.” Eva’s gaze flicked over Rory’s shoulder, then back, her expression hardening. “Busy. Right.” She didn’t move. “You could’ve called.” “I know.” Rory’s fingers tightened around the strap of her messenger bag. “Can I come in?” Eva hesitated, then stepped back, pulling the door wider. The flat was exactly as Rory remembered—cluttered, lived-in, the kind of chaos that only made sense to Eva. Books teetered in precarious stacks on the coffee table, scrolls unfurled across the sofa, and Ptolemy, the tabby cat, blinked at her from his perch on the armchair, tail flicking in disinterest. Rory stepped inside, the familiar creak of the floorboards underfoot. The door clicked shut behind her, the three deadbolts sliding into place with a finality that made her stomach twist. Eva crossed her arms. “So. What’s this about?” Rory set her bag down, her pulse thrumming in her throat. “I need your help.” Eva’s eyebrows shot up. “Help? From me? That’s new.” Rory winced. “I deserve that.” “Damn right you do.” Eva’s voice was sharp, but there was a crack in it, something raw. “You disappeared, Rory. After everything—after *him*—you just… vanished. No calls, no texts, not even a bloody postcard.” Rory swallowed. “I know. I’m sorry.” Eva turned away, running a hand through her curls. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. Not after what happened.” The words hung between them, heavy. Rory could still see it—the way Eva’s hands had shaken when she pulled her from Evan’s flat, the way her voice had broken when she said, *You’re not going back to him. Not ever.* And then Rory had left, because staying would’ve meant facing the mess she’d made, the way she’d let things get so far. “I should’ve called,” Rory said quietly. “I should’ve checked on you.” Eva whirled back around, her eyes bright. “Yes, you should have. Because I was worried, Rory. I thought—” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “Never mind.” Rory stepped closer. “What did you think?” Eva’s jaw tightened. “I thought maybe he’d found you. That he’d—” She stopped, her breath hitching. Rory’s chest ached. “Eva.” “Don’t.” Eva held up a hand. “Just… don’t. Not yet.” Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Ptolemy stretched, then hopped down from the chair, weaving between their legs as if sensing the tension. Rory exhaled. “I need your help with something. Something big.” Eva’s laugh was bitter. “Of course you do. Because that’s what this is about, isn’t it? You only come to me when you need something.” “That’s not fair.” “Isn’t it?” Eva’s voice rose. “When was the last time you asked how *I* was doing? When was the last time you even *cared*?” Rory flinched. “I care. You know I do.” “Do I?” Eva’s eyes burned. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you only care when it’s convenient for you.” Rory’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “That’s not true.” “Then prove it.” Eva’s voice was a challenge. “Tell me why you’re really here.” Rory hesitated. She could lie. She could spin some half-truth, something to smooth things over. But Eva would see right through it. So she told her. “Lucien Moreau is back in London.” Eva’s face went still. “Lucien.” Rory nodded. “He showed up at Silas’ bar last night. Said he needs my help with something.” Eva’s laugh was sharp, disbelieving. “And you’re actually considering it? After everything he did?” Rory’s stomach twisted. “I don’t have a choice.” “There’s always a choice.” “Not this time.” Rory’s voice was quiet. “He knows things, Eva. About Evan. About what he’s been doing since I left.” Eva’s breath hitched. “What do you mean?” Rory met her eyes. “He’s not just some ex anymore. He’s involved in something. Something bad.” Eva’s face paled. “How bad?” Rory swallowed. “Bad enough that Lucien thinks he’s a threat to more than just me.” Eva was silent for a long moment. Then she turned away, her shoulders tense. “And you trust Lucien? After he just… left?” Rory’s throat tightened. “I don’t know.” Eva whirled back around. “That’s not good enough, Rory. You can’t just—” A sharp knock at the door cut her off. Both women froze. Eva’s eyes narrowed. “Are you expecting someone?” Rory shook her head. The knock came again, louder this time. Eva moved toward the door, but Rory caught her arm. “Wait.” Eva glared at her. “What?” Rory’s pulse spiked. “It could be him.” Eva’s expression darkened. “Evan?” Rory nodded. Eva’s jaw tightened, but she stepped back, letting Rory take the lead. Rory approached the door slowly, her heart hammering. She pressed her eye to the peephole. Lucien Moreau stood on the other side, his platinum blond hair slicked back, his heterochromatic eyes—one amber, one black—gleaming in the dim hallway light. He was dressed in one of his tailored charcoal suits, his ivory-handled cane resting against the doorframe. Rory’s breath caught. Eva hissed from behind her. “What the hell is *he* doing here?” Rory didn’t answer. She just unlocked the deadbolts, one by one, her fingers trembling. The door swung open. Lucien’s gaze flicked between them, his expression unreadable. “Ladies. I see I’ve interrupted something.” Eva’s voice was ice. “You have no idea.” Lucien’s lips quirked. “Oh, I think I do.” His amber eye locked onto Rory. “We need to talk.” Rory’s stomach twisted. “Now’s not a good time.” “It never is with you, is it?” Lucien’s voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it. “But this can’t wait.” Eva stepped forward, her arms crossed. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of me.” Lucien’s gaze slid to her, cool and assessing. “Can I?” Eva’s chin lifted. “Try me.” Lucien exhaled, then turned back to Rory. “Fine. But we’re not doing this in the hallway.” Rory hesitated, then stepped back, letting him inside. The moment the door closed behind him, the air in the flat shifted, thick with tension. Ptolemy hissed and bolted under the sofa. Lucien’s gaze swept over the cluttered room before landing on Rory. “You look well.” Rory’s fingers twitched at her sides. “Cut the small talk, Lucien.” His lips curved. “Straight to the point. I’ve missed that about you.” Eva made a sound of disgust. “Unbelievable.” Lucien ignored her, his focus entirely on Rory. “Evan’s not just a problem for you anymore. He’s moving something. Something dangerous.” Rory’s pulse spiked. “What?” “A weapon,” Lucien said. “One that doesn’t belong in this world.” Eva’s breath hitched. “What kind of weapon?” Lucien’s gaze flicked to her, then back to Rory. “The kind that could unravel everything.” Rory’s stomach dropped. “And you want me to help you stop him.” Lucien’s expression softened, just for a second. “I want you to be careful. But yes. I could use your help.” Eva stepped between them, her voice sharp. “She’s not getting involved in this.” Lucien’s eyes gleamed. “She already is.” Rory’s hands clenched. “Eva—” “No.” Eva’s voice was firm. “You’re not doing this, Rory. Not again.” Rory met her eyes. “I don’t have a choice.” Eva’s expression crumpled. “There’s always a choice.” Lucien’s voice was quiet. “Not when people’s lives are at stake.” Eva whirled on him. “And what about *her* life? What about what happened last time?” Lucien’s jaw tightened. “That was different.” “Was it?” Eva’s voice was raw. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re dragging her back into the same mess.” Rory’s chest ached. “Eva—” Eva turned to her, her eyes bright. “You don’t owe him anything, Rory. Not after what he did.” Lucien’s voice was low. “I know.” Rory’s breath caught. She looked at him—really looked at him—and for the first time, she saw the weight in his eyes. The regret. Eva’s voice broke. “Rory, please.” Rory closed her eyes. She could walk away. She could let Lucien handle this on his own. But she knew Evan. Knew how dangerous he could be. And she knew, deep down, that she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t try to stop him. She opened her eyes. “I’ll help.” Eva’s face fell. “Rory—” “I’m sorry.” Rory’s voice was quiet. “But I have to do this.” Eva’s hands clenched at her sides. “Then I’m coming with you.” Lucien’s eyebrows rose. “That’s not—” “Non-negotiable,” Eva snapped. Lucien exhaled, then nodded. “Fine.” Rory’s stomach twisted. She looked at Eva, at the hurt in her eyes, and wished she could take it all back. But she couldn’t. So she just said, “Thank you.” Eva’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. Lucien’s gaze flicked between them, then settled on Rory. “We should go. Now.” Rory nodded, her pulse hammering. As they turned toward the door, Eva caught her arm. “Rory.” Rory met her eyes. Eva’s voice was soft. “Be careful.” Rory swallowed. “I will.” Eva’s grip tightened for a second before she let go. And then they were moving, the three of them stepping out into the cold London night, the weight of what was coming pressing down on them like a storm.