Run: 2026-02-19-01KHSZ9GTCDY2PRBD4CRSECZCC

Aurora opened the door and froze. The hallway light silhouetted a familiar figure, one she'd hoped never to see again—and secretly feared she might. "Luc." His name escaped as barely more than a whisper. Lucien Moreau stood in the doorway of Eva's flat, impeccable as always in a charcoal suit that looked worth more than three months of Aurora's rent. His platinum hair was slicked back, emphasizing his sharp cheekbones and the mismatched eyes that haunted her dreams—one amber, one black. "Bonsoir, Rory." The French greeting rolled off his tongue with practiced ease. He leaned slightly on his ivory-handled cane, a subtle reminder of the blade concealed within. "May I come in?" She considered slamming the door in his face. Six months of silence after everything that had happened, and now he appeared without warning, as if he had every right to disrupt her carefully reconstructed life. "Eva isn't here," Aurora said, blocking the entrance. "I know." His mismatched gaze held hers. "I came to see you." A chill ran down her spine. Of course he knew Eva wasn't home—Lucien Moreau never appeared anywhere without perfect information. It was what made him such a valuable fixer in London's supernatural underworld. And such a dangerous man to care about. The tabby cat wound between her ankles, pushing past to investigate the visitor. Ptolemy meowed loudly, recognizing Lucien. "The little traitor remembers you," Aurora muttered. A hint of a smile played at the corner of Lucien's mouth. "Animals have excellent judgment." "Debatable." She sighed and stepped back, allowing him entry. "You have five minutes." Lucien entered with the fluid grace that came from being half-demon, his cane tapping softly against the worn floorboards. He surveyed the cramped flat—books stacked on every surface, scrolls balanced precariously on the window ledge, Eva's research notes taped haphazardly to the walls. "Still living with Eva, I see." He ran a finger along a dusty shelf. "How's the delivery job?" Aurora crossed her arms. "Cut the small talk. Why are you here?" Lucien set his cane against the wall and turned to face her fully. Without that barrier between them, she felt suddenly vulnerable. The last time they'd stood this close, his lips had been on hers, and then— "I owe you an explanation," he said. "Six months too late." Aurora moved to the tiny kitchen, needing distance. She filled the electric kettle, giving her hands something to do besides shake. "You disappeared after Avaros. After everything. Not a word." "I didn't have a choice." "There's always a choice." She slammed the kettle down harder than necessary. "You taught me that, remember? Right before you chose to vanish." Lucien moved toward her, his reflection distorted in the kitchen window. Behind him, the flat looked even smaller with his presence filling it. "What happened in my father's realm—" "Don't." Aurora spun around. "Don't you dare try to explain away leaving me to pick up the pieces alone." His eyes darkened, the amber one catching the kitchen light. "Is that what you think I did?" "What else should I think?" The hurt she'd buried for months bubbled to the surface. "One minute we're escaping Avaros together, the next I wake up alone in Eva's flat with a cryptic note saying it's 'too dangerous' to stay. Classic Lucien Moreau—deciding what's best for everyone else." His jaw tightened. "My father sent hunters after us. After you." "I can take care of myself." "Against demon assassins?" Lucien stepped closer. "They would have torn you apart to get to me." "So you made the decision for both of us." Aurora felt the familiar anger rising. "Like I was some helpless human who couldn't possibly understand the consequences." "Because I couldn't bear the consequences!" His voice rose, a rare crack in his composed façade. "What happened between us in Avaros—it marked you, Rory. My father could sense it. The connection. He would have used it to track you down." The kettle clicked off, steam rising between them. Aurora didn't move to pour the water. "And you couldn't have told me this? Left more than a three-line note?" "Every contact would have left a trace." His voice softened. "I spent six months erasing my tracks, creating false trails across Europe. I only returned when I was certain they'd lost interest." Aurora's fingers found the crescent-shaped scar on her wrist, tracing the familiar shape. "Why come back at all?" Lucien's eyes followed the movement of her fingers. "You know why." The air between them felt charged, thick with words unsaid. Aurora remembered the desperate kiss they'd shared as they fled through the portal from Avaros, the way his hand had gripped hers as reality tore around them. The look in his eyes when he'd whispered something in a language she couldn't understand but somehow felt in her soul. "That night wasn't real," she said, even as her heart raced at the memory. "Avaros plays tricks on humans. You told me that yourself." "Is that what you've been telling yourself?" Lucien moved closer until barely a breath separated them. "That what you felt wasn't real?" Aurora stepped back, bumping against the counter. "What I felt doesn't matter. You left." "To protect you." "Without giving me a choice!" Ptolemy jumped onto the counter between them, demanding attention. Aurora welcomed the interruption, scratching behind the cat's ears. Lucien reached out slowly, his fingers hesitating before gently touching the scar on her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her that had nothing to do with fear. "I made a mistake," he admitted quietly, his accent thickening with emotion. "I thought distance would keep you safe. Break whatever connection Avaros forged between us." Aurora didn't pull away from his touch. "And did it?" "Non." His fingers traced the outline of the crescent scar. "Every day I was away, I felt it. Like a thread pulling taut." She wanted to resist the pull, to hold onto her anger. It had been easier to hate him than to acknowledge how much his absence had hollowed her. "I don't trust you," Aurora whispered. "I know." Lucien's mismatched eyes held hers. "But I'm asking for a chance to earn that trust again." Aurora looked down at his hand on her wrist, at the invisible thread that had drawn him back to her doorstep. Six months of questions, of nights spent wondering if she'd imagined the intensity between them, of doubting her own memories of Avaros. "Why now?" she asked. "Because the hunters have been called off. Because it's finally safe." He paused, vulnerability showing through his careful composure. "Because I couldn't stay away any longer, even if I should have." Ptolemy butted his head against Lucien's arm, purring loudly in the tense silence. "Eva will be back soon," Aurora said finally, neither accepting nor rejecting his explanation. Lucien nodded, slowly withdrawing his hand from her wrist. The absence of his touch left her skin tingling. "I should go." "No." The word escaped before she could reconsider. "Stay. At least long enough to explain everything. Properly this time." Something like hope flickered across his face—so brief she might have imagined it. "Are you sure?" Aurora wasn't sure of anything where Lucien was concerned. But she knew that if he walked out that door, the questions that had haunted her for six months would remain unanswered. "I'm sure I deserve the whole truth," she said. "Start at the beginning. What really happened after we escaped Avaros?" Lucien's shoulders relaxed slightly. He reached for his cane, but didn't move toward the door. Instead, he pulled out one of the mismatched chairs at Eva's small kitchen table. "It's a long story," he warned. Aurora finally poured the water for tea, dropping in bags of Eva's strongest blend. "I've got time."