Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMN4KX3BZ7GK513SRGJ34W0

The door swung open before Rory could knock a second time. Eva stood there, her dark curls piled into a messy bun, a smudge of ink on her cheekbone. The scent of cardamom tea and old paper spilled into the hallway. Behind her, Ptolemy slinked between her ankles, tail flicking like a metronome set to suspicion. "Rory?" Eva blinked, then stepped back as if the threshold had suddenly become electrified. "What are you—? I mean, come in. Obviously. But what are you doing here?" Rory hesitated, her fingers tightening around the strap of her messenger bag. The last time she’d been here, she’d left in a hurry, Eva’s voice sharp with accusation cutting through the hum of the curry house below. That had been three months ago. Three months of silence, of unanswered texts, of pretending she didn’t miss the way Eva’s laughter sounded like wind chimes in a storm. "I need to talk to you," Rory said, stepping inside. The door clicked shut behind her, the three deadbolts sliding home with a series of metallic snicks. The flat was exactly as she remembered—books stacked like Jenga towers, scrolls unfurled across the coffee table, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and something faintly electric, like ozone after a lightning strike. Eva’s research. Always her research. Eva crossed her arms, the sleeves of her oversized jumper slipping down to reveal the silver bangles on her wrists. "You could’ve called." "I did. Twice." "Right." Eva’s gaze flicked away, landing on Ptolemy, who was now perched on the arm of the sofa, yellow eyes fixed on Rory. "I’ve been busy." Rory exhaled through her nose. "Busy. Sure." She dropped her bag onto the floor, the thud muffled by the layers of rugs. "Look, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. I need your help." Eva’s laugh was sharp, bitter. "Of course. Because that’s what this is about, isn’t it? What you need." Rory’s jaw tightened. "That’s not fair." "Isn’t it?" Eva stepped closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. "You show up after three months of radio silence, and suddenly I’m supposed to drop everything? Forgive and forget?" "I never asked you to forget." "Then what do you want, Rory?" Eva threw her hands up. "An apology? Fine. I’m sorry I called you a coward. I’m sorry I said you ran away. Happy?" Rory’s chest ached. "I didn’t come here for that." "Then why did you come?" Eva’s voice cracked, just a little. "Because I can’t do this again. I can’t be the one you run to when things get hard, only to be left behind when it’s convenient." Rory’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. "You think this is convenient? You think I *wanted* to come here?" Eva’s eyes flashed. "I don’t know what you want. That’s the problem." The air between them was thick, charged. Rory could feel the weight of every unspoken word, every argument they’d had, every night she’d lain awake wondering if she’d ruined the best thing she’d ever had. She swallowed hard. "I want you to listen to me. That’s all. Just listen." Eva stared at her for a long moment, then exhaled sharply. "Fine. Talk." Rory opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat. How could she explain? How could she tell Eva that she’d spent the last three months drowning in her own head, that she’d taken the job at Golden Empress because it was the only thing that made sense, that she’d avoided this flat, this street, this *person* because being near her hurt too much? Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out the envelope. Eva’s eyes narrowed. "What’s that?" "Something I found." Rory handed it over. "It was in my bag when I got home yesterday. No note, no explanation. Just this." Eva took the envelope, her fingers brushing Rory’s. A spark, like static. She turned it over, her breath catching when she saw the wax seal—a serpent coiled around a dagger. "This is Lucien’s mark." Rory nodded. "I know." Eva’s gaze snapped up. "You went to *him*?" "I didn’t have a choice." Eva’s laugh was hollow. "There’s always a choice, Rory. You just don’t like the ones that require you to stay." Rory’s patience snapped. "That’s not fair, Eva. You know why I left. You know what Evan was like." "I know you used me as an excuse to run." Rory flinched. "That’s not—" "Isn’t it?" Eva’s voice was raw. "You were scared. I get it. But you didn’t even *fight* for us. You just… left." Rory’s throat burned. "I was trying to protect you." "By breaking my heart?" Eva’s eyes glistened. "Do you have any idea what it was like, watching you walk out that door? Knowing you were choosing *him* over me?" Rory’s breath hitched. "I wasn’t choosing him. I was choosing *survival*." Eva shook her head, her curls tumbling loose from the bun. "That’s the thing, Rory. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You don’t get to decide when I’m in danger, or when I’m not strong enough to handle it. That’s *my* choice." Rory’s hands trembled. "I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Eva. But I need you now. Not as a crutch. Not as an escape. I need you because you’re the only one who can help me figure out what the hell this is." She gestured to the envelope. "Because if Lucien’s involved, it’s bad. And I can’t do this alone." Eva was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing the wax seal. Then, softly: "You’re not alone." Rory’s heart stuttered. "Eva—" Eva held up a hand. "I’m not saying I forgive you. Not yet. But I’ll help you. Because that’s what we do. Even when it hurts." Rory exhaled, her shoulders sagging with relief. "Thank you." Eva’s gaze flicked up, her dark eyes searching Rory’s face. "But you have to promise me something." "Anything." "No more running." Rory’s breath caught. "I can’t promise that." Eva’s expression darkened. "Then we’re done here." Rory reached for her, her fingers brushing Eva’s wrist. "I can’t promise I won’t run. But I can promise I’ll always come back. To you." Eva’s breath hitched. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Eva’s hand turned, her fingers lacing with Rory’s. "You’d better." Rory’s pulse roared in her ears. She stepped closer, her free hand lifting to brush a stray curl from Eva’s face. "I missed you." Eva’s lips parted, her breath warm against Rory’s skin. "I missed you too." And then, before Rory could second-guess herself, she leaned in and kissed her. Eva stiffened for half a second—then melted into it, her hands fisting in Rory’s jacket as she pulled her closer. The envelope fell to the floor, forgotten. Ptolemy yowled and bolted under the sofa. When they finally broke apart, Eva’s cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen. She rested her forehead against Rory’s, her breath coming fast. "We’re going to regret this in the morning." Rory smiled, her thumb brushing Eva’s cheekbone. "Probably." Eva huffed a laugh, then pulled back just enough to meet Rory’s eyes. "But not tonight." "Not tonight," Rory agreed. And for the first time in months, the future didn’t feel like something to run from. It felt like something to fight for.