Run: 2026-02-19-01KHSZ87ZJJG14G9TN2N259CN0

The door swung open before Rory could even knock. Eva stood there, her dark curls wild around her shoulders, a smudge of ink on her cheek. The scent of turmeric and cumin from the curry house below curled into the hallway. "Took you long enough. I was about to send Ptolemy after you." Eva stepped aside, but her eyes flicked past Rory, scanning the stairwell. "You alone?" Rory adjusted the strap of her bag. "Who else would I bring?" Eva didn’t answer. She just shut the door, sliding all three deadbolts into place with sharp clicks. The flat was exactly as Rory remembered—books stacked on every surface, scrolls unrolled across the coffee table, Ptolemy curled on a pile of papers like a furry paperweight. The only difference was the tension in Eva’s shoulders, the way her fingers drummed against her thigh. "You look like hell," Rory said. Eva exhaled through her nose. "Thanks. You look like you’ve been run over by a bus. Twice." Rory dropped her bag onto the couch, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Ptolemy cracked one eye open, assessed the situation, and went back to sleep. "I had a double shift at the restaurant. Then I got caught in the rain. Then—" "Then you remembered you have a life outside of delivering dumplings?" Eva crossed her arms. "Or did you just miss me?" Rory’s jaw tightened. "I came because you texted *urgent*. Not because I wanted to play twenty questions." Eva’s mouth twisted. She turned away, grabbing a mug from the cluttered counter. "Tea?" "No." "Suit yourself." Eva poured anyway, the steam curling around her face. "You’re still mad at me." Rory didn’t answer. She picked up a scroll from the table, unrolling it just enough to see the jagged script—some kind of demonic contract, half-translated. "You could’ve called. Or, I don’t know, *not* ghosted me for three months." "I had reasons." "Yeah? What were they? Too busy summoning something that ate your phone?" Eva set the mug down with a sharp *clink*. "I was trying to protect you." "Protect me?" Rory laughed, but there was no humor in it. "From what? Yourself?" Eva’s fingers curled into fists. "From *him*." The air in the flat went still. Even Ptolemy lifted his head, ears twitching. Rory’s pulse jumped. "Who?" Eva didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The knock at the door came like a gunshot. Rory’s breath hitched. Eva’s face went pale. "Rory," a smooth voice called from the other side. "I know you’re in there." Eva’s eyes locked onto hers, wide and desperate. "Don’t answer it." Rory’s hands shook. She knew that voice. Knew the way it curled around her name like smoke. Lucien Moreau. The door rattled as he knocked again, slower this time. "I’m not leaving until we talk." Eva grabbed Rory’s wrist, her grip tight. "He’s dangerous. You don’t know—" "I know *exactly* what he is." Rory pulled free. "And I know what he’s capable of." Eva’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Then why are you still standing here?" Rory didn’t have an answer. The third knock was softer. Almost hesitant. "Rory," Lucien said, and this time, his voice was rough. "Please." Eva’s mouth pressed into a thin line. "If you open that door, I’m throwing you out with him." Rory stepped forward anyway. The deadbolts slid back with a scrape of metal. The door swung open. Lucien stood there, rain dripping from his platinum hair, his amber eye gleaming in the dim light. His black eye was shadowed, unreadable. The ivory handle of his cane gleamed under his fingers. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Rory’s chest ached. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The rain pattered against the fire escape outside, the only sound between them. Then Lucien exhaled, sharp and uneven. "You’re not answering your phone." Rory crossed her arms. "I lost it." "Bullshit." She shrugged. "What do you want, Lucien?" His jaw tightened. "We need to talk." "About what? The last time we talked, you told me to stay out of your life." Lucien’s fingers flexed around his cane. "That was a mistake." Rory’s laugh was bitter. "Which part? The part where you lied to me, or the part where you walked away?" Eva’s voice cut through the tension. "Rory, *close the door*." Lucien’s gaze flicked to Eva, then back to Rory. "I made a deal. One that—" He stopped, swallowing hard. "One that I didn’t understand the cost of." Rory’s stomach twisted. "What kind of deal?" "The kind that involves *you*." Eva stepped forward, her voice low and dangerous. "Get out." Lucien ignored her. His eyes never left Rory’s. "I need your help." Rory’s breath caught. "Why me?" Lucien’s voice dropped. "Because you’re the only one who can." Eva grabbed Rory’s arm, yanking her back. "Don’t listen to him. He’s manipulating you." Rory wrenched free. "I can make my own decisions." Eva’s eyes burned. "You’re making a mistake." Rory turned back to Lucien. "What do you want?" Lucien’s throat worked. "I need you to come with me." "Where?" "Somewhere safe." Rory’s pulse pounded in her ears. "And if I say no?" Lucien’s black eye flickered, something dark and desperate in its depths. "Then I’ll have to find another way." Eva’s hand shot out, slamming the door shut between them. She turned to Rory, her voice shaking. "You’re not seriously considering this." Rory’s fingers curled into fists. "I don’t have a choice." Eva’s face fell. "There’s always a choice." Rory looked at the door, at the rain streaking down the wood, at the ghost of Lucien’s voice still hanging in the air. She reached for the deadbolts.