Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPFPM8R4620FXXZFVSK4CP

Rory's hand hovered over the third deadbolt, her fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second before she slid it free. The door creaked open, and she stood frozen, her eyes locked on the figure standing in the dimly lit corridor. The faint scent of sandalwood and smoke wafted in, an unmistakable signature that sent a shiver down her spine. Lucien Moreau. A slow smile spread across his face, creasing the corners of his eyes. The amber orb seemed to gleam in the dim light, while the black one remained inscrutable, as always. "Rory, darling. It's been far too long." The sound of his voice, low and smooth, was like a key turning in a rusty lock. Memories she'd tried to bury swirled to the surface, and for a moment, she was transported back to the complicated tangle of their past. The way he'd shown up in her life, all charisma and mystery, offering her a lifeline when she needed it most. The way he'd slowly, incrementally, made her feel seen, heard, and understood. And the way he'd ultimately broken her heart. Rory's grip on the doorframe tightened. She felt the familiar flutter in her chest, the one she'd learned to recognize as a warning sign. Don't let him in. Don't let him get close again. But her feet seemed rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to breathe. Lucien's eyes crinkled at the corners as he took in her expression. "May I come in?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement. Rory's gaze flickered to the corridor behind him, half-expecting to see some lurking danger, some reason for his unexpected visit. But the landing was empty, the only sound the distant hum of the curry house below. She stepped aside, her movements stiff, and gestured for him to enter. As Lucien crossed the threshold, his eyes scanned the cramped space, taking in the clutter of books, scrolls, and research notes that covered every available surface. Ptolemy, Eva's tabby cat, stirred from his afternoon nap, watching the newcomer with a disinterested gaze. Lucien's gaze lingered on the cat before coming back to Rory, his expression softening. "Still living with Eva, I see," he said, his voice low. "I wasn't sure if you'd moved on to greener pastures." Rory's eyes narrowed. What was he doing here? What did he want? She pushed the questions aside, focusing on the physical sensations that threatened to overwhelm her. The way her heart rate had accelerated, the way her skin felt too tight, the way her mind kept drifting back to the memories she'd tried to bury. "Eva's still my friend," she said finally, the words emerging in a tight, controlled tone. "I help her with her research sometimes." Lucien's gaze never wavered. "I'm sure you do," he said, his voice dripping with understatement. "You were always good at...research." The air seemed to thicken, heavy with unspoken meaning. Rory's face grew warm, and she felt the familiar flutter in her chest escalate into a full-blown panic. She needed to get him out of there, needed to create some distance between them. "Lucien, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice a little sharper than she intended. The smile never wavered. "I have a proposition for you, Rory. One that requires your...unique skills." Rory's eyes narrowed. What skills could he possibly think she had? She was a delivery person, a part-time waitress, not some kind of high-stakes operative. But Lucien's expression told her that he was serious, that this wasn't some flippant visit or attempt to reconnect. "Proposition?" she repeated, her tone cautious. Lucien's gaze never left hers. "Yes. I think we should discuss it in private. Somewhere...quieter." Rory's eyes flickered to the door, her mind racing. She could tell him to leave, could shut the door in his face and pretend she'd never seen him. But something about his expression, something about the way he looked at her, made her hesitate. "Fine," she said finally, the word emerging in a soft, reluctant tone. "We can talk in Eva's study." Lucien's smile broadened, and he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Excellent choice, Rory. Lead the way." As she turned to lead him to the study, Rory felt the flutter in her chest escalate into a full-blown storm. She was in trouble, and she knew it.