AI ---
The door swung open before the first knock could fully connect with wood.
A gust of cold, damp air rushed in, carrying the scent of wet pavement and something sharper—ozone, like the second before a storm breaks. The flat’s dim bulb flickered , casting long, jagged shadows across the threshold. Rory stood there, one hand on the doorframe, the other clutching a battered leather satchel against her chest. Her breath hitched, just once, but the way her fingers tightened around the strap told him everything .
Lucien didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stood in the hallway, his cane tapping once against the floorboards, the blade inside it gleaming dully in the dim light. He’d come straight from the docks, the salt still clinging to his cuffs, his suit coat damp at the shoulders. The fabric clung to him like a second skin, the charcoal grey of it now streaked with grime.
“You’re wet,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“You look like you’ve been waiting for me .”
A beat. The air between them crackled, thick with something neither of them named. Rory’s throat worked, but she didn’t step back. Didn’t invite him in. Just stood there, her black hair falling in a loose wave over one shoulder, the scar on her wrist catching the light. The same scar that had once been a secret, then a confession, then a weapon.
Lucien exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. “I’ve got a lead on the package you were after.”
“You’re here about the *package *?” Her voice sharpened, just enough to sting. “Or are you here to finish what you started?”
The words hung between them, sharp as broken glass. His jaw tightened. “I’m here because you left me no choice.”
She laughed, low and bitter. “Oh, I left you plenty of choices, *Lucien *. You just never made a good one.”
The flat was small, cramped with the kind of clutter that came from living above a bar—takeaway menus, half-empty bottles of whiskey, the faint scent of fried onions from Silas’ kitchen below. Rory’s things were scattered: a pile of unwashed laundry on the couch, a laptop open on the coffee table, its screen dark. The only sign of life was Ptolemy, the tabby cat, who had the audacity to saunter into the room and immediately begin licking his paw with the air of a man who had just won the lottery.
“He’s judging you,” Rory murmured, nodding at the cat.
“He’s judging *me * for being here.” Lucien ’s voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, like steel wrapped in silk . He set his satchel down on the nearest surface, a small wooden table by the window. The glass was fogged with condensation, the view of Brick Lane blurred. “You didn’t answer my messages.”
“Because I didn’t want to talk to you.” She crossed her arms, her sleeve riding up just enough to reveal the crescent scar again. “And because I didn’t want you to know where I was.”
“You think I don’t know where you are?” His eyes flicked to the scar, then back to her face. “You think I don’t know *everything * about you?”
Rory’s breath hitched. The air between them thickened, pressing down like a physical weight . She swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her throat. “What do you want, Lucien ?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a manila envelope. It was sealed with a wax stamp, the wax cracked and yellowed at the edges. “This.”
She didn’t take it. Just watched him, her blue eyes wide and unblinking. “What is it?”
“A ledger.” His voice was quiet, deliberate . “Names. Dates. Places. Everything you asked for.”
Rory’s fingers twitched at her sides. “You found it.”
“Found it.” He tossed it onto the table. The envelope landed with a soft *thud *, the wax seal broken. “But it’s not just a ledger. It’s a *map *. And it leads to something bigger than you realised.”
She reached for it, her hand hovering just above the paper. “How much?”
“Not for sale.” His voice was cold, final . “But I’ll tell you where to find it. For a price.”
Rory’s laugh was sharp, derisive. “You always did have a way with words, didn’t you? ‘For a price’—as if I haven’t been paying for your favours since the day we met.”
Lucien ’s gaze darkened. “You’re the one who walked away, Rory. You’re the one who left me with nothing.”
She flinched, just slightly, but it was enough. Enough to make his chest tighten, to make the blade inside his cane ache with the memory of her touch. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always had a choice.” His voice dropped, rougher now . “You just didn’t want to make the right one.”
The words hung between them, heavy and loaded. Rory’s breath came faster, her chest rising and falling too quickly . She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “What do you want from me , Lucien ?”
He stepped closer, the cane tapping against the floorboards. Close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her irises, close enough to smell the faint scent of lavender soap she used, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. “I want you to listen.”
She didn’t answer. Just stood there, her body tense, her fingers curled into fists at her sides. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Lucien exhaled, slow and steady. “There’s a name in that ledger. A name you’ve been looking for. A name that could change everything .”
Rory’s breath hitched. “Who?”
“Evan.”
The name hung between them, heavy and loaded. Rory’s body went still, every muscle coiling tight. “Evan’s dead.”
“Is he?” Lucien ’s voice was smooth, almost amused. “Or is he just *gone *?”
Rory’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Do I not?” He reached into his satchel again, this time pulling out a photograph. It was faded , the edges yellowed with age. In it, a younger Evan stood beside a younger Rory, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders, their smiles bright and unguarded. “This was taken three years ago. The night before you left London.”
Rory’s breath caught in her throat. She reached out, her hand trembling as she took the photograph. “Where did you get this?”
“Does it matter?” Lucien ’s voice was low, dangerous. “You ran , Rory. You left everything behind. And now you want to pretend like it never happened.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and wild. “You don’t know what happened.”
“I know enough.” His voice was rough, raw. “I know you didn’t just walk away from him. You *ran *. And I know why.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the floor, to the pile of laundry, to anything but him. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Doesn’t it?” Lucien stepped closer, his cane tapping against the floorboards. “Because if it doesn’t, then why are you still looking for him?”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and wild. “I’m not looking for him.”
“Then why are you here?” Lucien ’s voice was low, dangerous. “Why are you back in London?”
She didn’t answer. Just stood there, her body tense, her fingers curled into fists at her sides. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Lucien exhaled, slow and steady. “Because you think you can outrun the past, Rory. But you can’t. And neither can he.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Do you not?” Lucien stepped closer, his cane tapping against the floorboards. Close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her irises, close enough to smell the faint scent of lavender soap she used, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. “Because I know where he is. And I know what he’s doing.”
Rory’s breath caught in her throat. She reached out, her hand trembling as she took the photograph. “Where?”
Lucien ’s voice was low, dangerous. “He’s not just in London anymore. He’s in Paris. And he’s not alone.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and wild. “What do you mean?”
“He’s got people there. People who want the same thing you do.” Lucien ’s voice dropped, rougher now. “Power. Control. And they’re not afraid to use violence to get it.”
Rory’s fingers tightened around the photograph. “I don’t believe you.”
“Do you not?” Lucien stepped closer, his cane tapping against the floorboards. “Because I’ve seen what he’s capable of. And I’ve seen what he’s done to people who cross him.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “I don’t care.”
“Do you not?” Lucien ’s voice was low, dangerous. “Because if you don’t, then you’re already dead.”
The words hung between them, heavy and loaded. Rory’s breath came faster, her chest rising and falling too quickly . She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and unblinking. “What do you want from me ?”
Lucien exhaled, slow and steady. “I want you to come with me .”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “Why?”
“Because you’re not safe here.” Lucien ’s voice was low, dangerous. “And because I need your help.”
Rory’s fingers tightened around the photograph. “What kind of help?”
“To find him.” Lucien ’s voice was smooth, almost amused. “To bring him back.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and wild. “Why?”
“Because he’s not the only one who’s been looking for you.” Lucien ’s voice dropped, rougher now. “And if he finds you first, you won’t like what he does to you.”
Rory’s breath caught in her throat. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “I don’t believe you.”
“Do you not?” Lucien stepped closer, his cane tapping against the floorboards. Close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her irises, close enough to smell the faint scent of lavender soap she used, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. “Because I’ve seen what he’s capable of. And I’ve seen what he’s done to people who cross him.”
Rory’s fingers tightened around the photograph. “I don’t care.”
“Do you not?” Lucien ’s voice was low, dangerous. “Because if you don’t, then you’re already dead.”
The door behind her creaked open, the sound sharp and sudden. Rory turned, her breath catching in her throat. Standing in the doorway was a man, his face half-hidden in shadow. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his presence filling the doorway like a physical force. His eyes were cold, hard, and they locked onto Rory’s with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
“Rory,” the man said. His voice was rough, gravelly, like gravel underfoot. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Lucien ’s body tensed, his fingers curling around the handle of his cane. “Evan.”
The man stepped into the room, his gaze flicking between Rory and Lucien . “It’s been a long time.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and wild. “What are you doing here?”
Evan’s gaze darkened. “I came to take you home.”
Lucien ’s voice was low, dangerous. “You don’t belong here.”
Evan’s gaze flicked to Lucien , then back to Rory. “I’ve missed you, Rory.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “I don’t want to go back.”
Evan’s voice was rough, gravelly. “You don’t have a choice.”
Lucien ’s body tensed, his fingers curling around the handle of his cane. “She does.”
Evan’s gaze darkened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and wild. “I know what I want.”
Evan’s voice was low, dangerous. “And what’s that?”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “Freedom.”
Evan’s gaze darkened. “Freedom?”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and unblinking. “Yes.”
Evan’s voice was rough, gravelly. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “I understand more than you think.”
Evan’s gaze darkened. “Do you?”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and wild. “Yes.”
Evan’s voice was low, dangerous. “Then come with me .”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “I can’t.”
Evan’s gaze darkened. “You can.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and unblinking. “No.”
Evan’s voice was rough, gravelly. “You don’t have a choice.”
Lucien ’s body tensed, his fingers curling around the handle of his cane. “She does.”
Evan’s gaze flicked to Lucien , then back to Rory. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “I know what I want.”
Evan’s voice was low, dangerous. “And what’s that?”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and wild. “Freedom.”
The door behind them slammed shut, the sound echoing through the flat like a gunshot. Rory turned, her breath catching in her throat. Standing in the doorway was a woman, her face half-hidden in shadow. She was tall, her presence filling the doorway like a physical force. Her eyes were cold, hard, and they locked onto Rory’s with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
“Rory,” the woman said. Her voice was smooth, almost amused. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Lucien ’s body tensed, his fingers curling around the handle of his cane. “Eva.”
Eva stepped into the room, her gaze flicking between Rory and Lucien . “It’s been a long time.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at her, her eyes wide and wild. “What are you doing here?”
Eva’s gaze darkened. “I came to help you.”
Lucien ’s voice was low, dangerous. “You don’t belong here.”
Eva’s gaze flicked to Lucien , then back to Rory. “I’ve missed you, Rory.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “I don’t want your help.”
Eva’s voice was smooth, almost amused. “You don’t have a choice.”
Lucien ’s body tensed, his fingers curling around the handle of his cane. “She does.”
Eva’s gaze darkened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at Eva, her eyes wide and unblinking. “I know what I want.”
Eva’s voice was low, dangerous. “And what’s that?”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “Freedom.”
Eva’s gaze darkened. “Freedom?”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at Eva, her eyes wide and wild. “Yes.”
Eva’s voice was smooth, almost amused. “Then come with me .”
The flat seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with tension . Rory looked between Eva, Evan, and Lucien , her mind racing . She took a step back, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “I can’t.”
Eva’s voice was low, dangerous. “You can.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “No.”
Evan’s voice was rough, gravelly. “You don’t have a choice.”
Lucien ’s body tensed, his fingers curling around the handle of his cane. “She does.”
Eva’s gaze darkened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at them, her eyes wide and unblinking. “I do.”
The door behind them creaked open again, the sound sharp and sudden. Rory turned, her breath catching in her throat. Standing in the doorway was a man, his face half-hidden in shadow. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his presence filling the doorway like a physical force. His eyes were cold, hard, and they locked onto Rory’s with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
“Rory,” the man said. His voice was rough, gravelly, like gravel underfoot. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
The room seemed to spin. Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and wild. “Who are you?”
The man stepped into the room, his gaze flicking between Rory and the others. “I’m the one who can help you find what you’re looking for.”
Lucien ’s voice was low, dangerous. “Who the hell are you?”
The man’s gaze darkened. “Someone who knows more than you think.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked away, her gaze flicking to the window, to the rain streaking the glass. “I don’t need your help.”
The man’s voice was smooth, almost amused. “You don’t have a choice.”
The flat seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with tension . Rory looked between them all, her mind racing . She took a step back, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “I can’t.”
The man’s voice was low, dangerous. “You can.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and unblinking. “No.”
The door slammed shut behind them, the sound echoing through the flat like a gunshot. Rory turned, her breath catching in her throat. The room was filled with faces, all of them watching her with intensity , all of them waiting for her to make a choice.
She looked at Lucien , his amber and black eyes burning with something she couldn’t name. She looked at Eva, her sharp features softened by something like concern . She looked at Evan, his cold gaze filled with something darker. And she looked at the man in the doorway, his presence a physical force in the room.
Rory took a deep breath. She looked at each of them in turn, her mind racing . She knew what she wanted. She knew what she had to do.
“Fine,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her . “But I’m doing this on my terms.”
The room fell silent , the air thick with tension . Rory looked at each of them in turn, her gaze unwavering . “And I want answers.”
Lucien ’s voice was low, dangerous. “You’ll get them.”
Evan’s voice was rough, gravelly. “You’ll get what you deserve.”
Eva’s voice was smooth, almost amused. “You’ll get what you need.”
The man in the doorway stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Rory’s. “You’ll get what you’re looking for.”
Rory’s breath hitched. She looked at each of them, her mind racing . She knew what she had to do. She knew what she had to say.
“Then let’s go,” she said, her voice steady . “Before it’s too late.”