Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPDCZHYS0PP9MS2AZNZSEP

The knock came soft, almost tentative, followed by two quick raps and then silence. Aurora froze, her spoon hovering halfway between the bowl of takeout noodles and her mouth. Ptolemy, sprawled on the armchair near the window, flicked an ear in the direction of the door but otherwise didn’t stir. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Eva was in Edinburgh for a research conference, and Aurora wasn’t the type to have friends dropping by unannounced. Especially not at nine o’clock on a damp Thursday night. She set the bowl down on the cluttered coffee table, careful to avoid the stacks of Eva’s journals and scrolls, and padded to the door. Her bare feet whispered against the worn hardwood floor. Through the peephole, the hallway was dimly lit, but the figure standing there was unmistakable. Lucien Moreau leaned casually against the wall, his ivory-handled cane resting at his side. He wore his usual tailored charcoal suit, the fabric seeming to absorb the faint light. His platinum blond hair was slicked back, and his heterochromatic eyes—one amber, one black—were fixed on the door with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Aurora’s breath caught in her throat. It had been six months since she’d last seen him, six months since she’d stormed out of his office in Mayfair after a heated argument about trust, secrets, and boundaries. Six months since she’d told him, in no uncertain terms, that she was done with his games. And yet here he was, standing outside Eva’s flat as if he belonged there. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the deadbolt. Part of her wanted to ignore him, to retreat to the couch and pretend he didn’t exist. But she knew Lucien—he wasn’t the type to go away quietly. With a sigh, she unlocked the door and pulled it open just enough to peer at him. "What are you doing here, Luc?" His smirk widened into a full-on grin, the kind that always made her stomach tighten. "Hello to you too, Aurora. Or do you prefer Rory these days?" She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the doorframe. "Cut the small talk. Why are you here?" He tilted his head, studying her with that unsettling gaze of his. "Can’t a man check in on an old friend?" "We’re not friends," she said, her voice sharper than she intended. His expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes fading. "No, I suppose we’re not. But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you." Aurora’s jaw tightened. She hated how easily he could disarm her with a few words. "If this is about the case—" "It’s not," he interrupted gently. "Though I’m guessing Eva hasn’t told you yet." She frowned. "Told me what?" He straightened, tapping his cane lightly against the floor. "May I come in? This isn’t exactly a conversation for the hallway." She hesitated again, glancing back at the flat. It was a mess—books and papers everywhere, Ptolemy’s fur clinging to every surface. Lucien, with his impeccable suits and air of refinement, didn’t belong in a space like this. But he was already stepping past her, his cane clicking softly against the floor as he entered. She closed the door behind him, relocking the deadbolts out of habit. When she turned, he was surveying the room with quiet amusement, his gaze lingering on the half-eaten bowl of noodles. "Charming," he said, his tone teasing but not unkind. "Eva’s not exactly the tidiest," Aurora muttered, brushing a strand of black hair behind her ear. "So, what is it you’re not supposed to tell me?" He turned to face her, his expression serious now. "Eva’s been working on something. Something… dangerous. She reached out to me a few days ago, asking for help. I thought you’d want to know." Aurora’s heart sank. "What kind of dangerous?" "The kind that involves artifacts best left alone," he said quietly. "She’s been digging into the Enochian Codex." She stared at him, her mind racing. The Enochian Codex was one of the most forbidden texts in the supernatural world, rumored to contain secrets that could unravel reality itself. Eva had mentioned it in passing during their late-night talks, but Aurora had never thought she’d actually try to find it. "Why would she—" Aurora began, but Lucien cut her off. "Because she believes it can be used to protect people like her," he said. "People who’ve been hurt by the supernatural world. But the Codex… Aurora, it’s not something to be trifled with. The risks far outweigh any potential benefits." She sank onto the couch, her thoughts swirling. Of course Eva would go after something like this—she’d always been driven by a fierce sense of justice, even if it meant putting herself in harm’s way. But the Enochian Codex… "You have to stop her," Aurora said, looking up at Lucien. "If anyone can, it’s you." He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the floor before meeting hers again. "I can try. But I came here because I thought you should know. And because…" He trailed off, his voice softening. "I’ve missed you." The words hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. Aurora’s chest tightened, the memories of their last encounter flooding back—the anger, the hurt, the way his voice had cracked when she’d walked out. "I missed you too," she admitted quietly. "But that doesn’t change anything, Luc. You lied to me." "I protected you," he countered, his voice firmer now. "There’s a difference." "From what?" she demanded, standing to face him. "You never told me what I needed protecting from. You just… kept things from me, like I couldn’t handle it." "Because it wasn’t your fight," he said, stepping closer. His scent—spicy and faintly metallic—filled the space between them. "It still isn’t. But Eva’s pulled you into this, whether you like it or not. And I can’t let you face it alone." Her breath hitched as his hand brushed against hers, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down her spine. She wanted to pull away, to remind him of the distance between them, but the look in his eyes stopped her. "I’m sorry," he murmured, his gaze searching hers. "For everything. I never wanted to hurt you." The sincerity in his voice broke something inside her, the walls she’d built crumbling under the weight of his words. She swallowed hard, her throat tight. "Luc…" Before she could say more, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of all the things they’d left unsaid. For a moment, she froze, caught between the desire to pull him closer and the fear of letting him in again. But then she kissed him back, her hands gripping the lapels of his coat as the world fell away around them. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was a start—a fragile, hesitant step toward something they’d both been too afraid to face. When they finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her skin. "Whatever happens," he whispered, "I’m not letting you go this time." She closed her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. "Don’t make me regret this, Luc." "Never," he promised, his voice steady. "Never again." Outside, the rain began to fall, tapping softly against the windows as Ptolemy stretched and jumped down from the armchair, padding toward the kitchen with feigned disinterest. Inside, the air was thick with unspoken words and the fragile hope of something new. And for the first time in six months, Aurora felt like she could breathe again.