Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPE3CE2ZN110H1SAKHR8PJ

She recognized his silhouette through the peephole of the frosted glass door, even before he knocked. Heart pounding, Aurora Carter hesitated, studying him. He looked much the same in his charcoal tailored suit, slicked-back platinum hair, and quarterstaff cane. Two years hadn't changed Lucien Moreau, her former consort and whisper of trouble. Her eyes drifted shut as his knuckles rapped against the wood, a staccato double-knock that echoed in the thin hallway beyond her flat. His could only mean one thing: their estranged bond's ties were pulling taut once more. To ignore his summons now would end poorly for them both. Steeling nerves, Aurora unlatched the locks and opened the door. Mr. Moreau stood a breath apart, heterochromatic eyes sweeping across her face in contemplation. It was only a heartbeat's pause before she pivoted on her heel and strode back inside, confident he would follow. She heard him close the door behind them, all bolts sliding home with practiced clicks. "What are you doing in London, Luc?" Aurora asked curtly over her shoulder, already sympatico to the tension. Her stance remained guarded, arms folded against her chest. The last time they'd met - a charged night that started with drinks in a dimly lit Parisian corner of Belushi's and folded into a mess of sheets and sweat at his flat in the 6th arrondissement - had made it clear boundaries were a good thing. Healthier, even. "I'm afraid, mon coeur, that you're needed on a job." His voice, a rich baritone with a French lilt, rumbled through her bones like an echo of his name on her lips. "The Ophidian's Coven wants you for a retrieval." Aurora frowned, morphing her surprise into a scowl. The supernatural criminal empire wanted her, specifically? It made no sense. Granted, her offer of ingress Authentication for the benefit of her circle didn't mean handing her over to those power-hungry fools. She had blinkered well enough over two years ago when she drew this connection with Lucien, setting herself apart from the Ovollo Coven's politics and machinations. Her coven in London remained too vulnerable for her to risk stomaching that game again. Eyes narrowing, Aurora put space between herself and this... this man before her. "Vraiment? Well, remind your boss that I'm not his damn hound to be called on a leash, underling infamies." "Leila." Lucien's eyes flashed amber, haloing the obsidian of his pupils. He stepped into her space, crowding her back against the hallway wall. The heat of his tall frame brushed against the curves of her body, his lilac cologne swimming in her senses. "This isn't a request." "Fuck you," Aurora spat, chin lifting defiantly. But it came weak as a protest, lost to the arresting heat of his gaze tacked between them. Her elemental shield was materializing at full power to guard against demonic compulsion. But she fought to resist the temptation to set them ablaze, reducing the wall or himself to ash and smoke. It would be so satisfying... Lucien smirked dangerously, a dimple notched in his left cheek, as if he could read this deadly play out in the fiery glint flaring across her iris. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but I will hold you to your oath." Aurora ground her teeth, annoyance spiking through the embers crackling under her skin. Did he really think he would walk through this door, good cop bad cop her, telling her they owed him a job and she'd just comply? She jerked her chin towards the door. "If that's all, get the hell out, Luc. You have no right to call in that damned Oath." Lucien's hand shot out and cinched her wrist, and he wrenched her into him. "Such refreshing enthusiasm, chérie." His grip bit into her bones, nails digging into the lining of her skin hard enough to draw betraying blood. "But we'll renegotiate the terms inside." In one swift grapple, he spun her around to face the door, pushing her through the threshold before she could even squeak out a rebuke. In a heartbeat, the locks slid home behind them with a thudding finality. Pulse hammering in her ears, Aurora backed away, putting distance between them. Fuck him and his arrogant elegance. Her eyes flitted towards the entryway, searching for her great-grandfather's old Apache rifle stuffed in the gun-case by the door. She matched his stride for move, backing into the shower - the only space in this one bedroom flat that had a direct window to the alley. "Calm yourself, sweet," he murmured, cornering her. A dangerous smirk played on his full mouth as he advanced. "You know I can smell when you're afraid." His tongue slid along his bottom lip as if savouring the taste already. "Or should I say, aroused?" Aurora hooked her palm around the flimsy shower curtain rod and ripped it from its anchors, just as he lunged forward. She swung the metal bar at his face with a grunt. It connected beneath his eye, the resounding crack as her knuckles made contact against his cheekbone like a clap of thunder. Lucien reeled back, gloved hands flying to the injury. The fabric parted crimson. Good, she thought, grimly satisfied. The pompous prick deserved that for his arrogance. And she welcomed the surge of adrenaline pumping through her veins as the beast admits defeat. Without waiting to witness the damage, Aurora darted past him, grabbing her gun at the front door. Her body was tense, muscles wired with a fight-or-flight instinct. Knowing Luc, he would eventually catch up with her again, no matter how far she ran. Best not waste waking hours doing the same escape and evasion dance as last time. Lucien straightened, dabbing at his lip with a swipe of his pocket square. "Zut alors, Leila..." He looked up at her through threads of the blood, a twisted up quirk to his mouth. About to say more, he spat a glob of saliva and red into her antique tatami mats. "You'll pay for that, ma maigri." Aurora leveled the gun at his chest, safety off, finger caressing the trigger. She kept her aim steady through the red sight, exhaling a calming breath through her nose. "Don't think so, Demiurge. This time, I can't be bought."