Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0F7TR4KC020GKZ8Q6MA9D

The door swung wide under her grip. Neon from Silas’s bar downstairs slashed across the narrow hallway, painting the chipped tiles in electric blue and sickly pink. He stood there, rain sluicing from slicked-back platinum strands, his tailored charcoal coat clinging to broad shoulders. Aurora’s pulse spiked. Her key rattled in the lock as she fought the urge to slam the door and bolt back inside. The ivory handle of his cane gleamed in the sick light. One amber eye glinted; the other drank in shadows. She yanked the door shut. The chain rasped home. He leaned around the frame, shoulders blocking her escape. You’re back She dropped her keys. A curry-grease scent clung to her fingers from the Golden Empress boxes still stacked by the door. She rubbed her thumb over the crescent scar on her wrist. Rain dripped from his coat onto the floor. Why now He shrugged off his coat and draped it over a chair. Wet folds pooled at his feet. He peeled off gloves, fingers uncurling. I needed to see you She kicked off her boots, sending one skidding into the hallway. She crossed her arms, boots scuffing the floor. Books teetered on shelves. Case files littered the coffee table. Everything felt too small. You vanished six months ago He bent to right a toppled box of documents. Yellowed papers fanned out. He picked one up—a page of her handwriting. He tucked it into his coat pocket. I wrote. You didn’t answer She planted her hands on her hips. Silence drummed through her ears. Orders came down from Avaros She laughed. Sharp. She stepped back, bootheels tapping the tile. Orders He met her glare without flinching. Rain slid down the window behind him. He brushed at his hair and stepped forward, cane clicking. You left me He froze a heartbeat. Then lifted the cane and tucked the hidden blade home with a flick. He stuck the cane under one arm and crossed to her. I left to protect you Her chest hitched. She pressed a fist to the countertop, enamel chipping beneath her knuckles. Plates rattled in cupboards. Protect She inhaled the smell of stale beer drifting up from the bar next door. If I’d stayed, they’d come for you She stilled. Memories flickered—his grave warning in Paris, sirens wailing in dark alleys, his hand on her wrist whispering, “Trust me.” Then the swell of betrayal. You lied He pressed cane to the floor, shifting his weight. He studied her scar as if it marked every argument they never finished. I never meant to hurt you She turned her back. Fists clenched. She stared at the cracked tiles. Liar He sidestepped to the coffee table, lifted a chipped mug half-filled with lukewarm water, and drank. When he set it down, droplets fell in a steady drip. Why didn’t you fight for me He folded arms and traced the rim of the mug with a fingertip. I did She whirled. Her voice snapped, echoing off bare walls. Where He sighed, lean shoulders curving. He turned and stared at a stack of her law textbooks, covers cracked and spines bent. He lifted the top book and flipped to the dedication page. “To Rory—never stop questioning.” He let it fall open in his hand, then dropped it to the table. They both held their breath. Silas’s bassline throbbed through the floorboards. Rain pounded the window in an uneven syncopation. I came to warn you, he said at last, voice low. She stared at him. He didn’t flinch. He reached into his coat and produced a letter sealed with crimson wax. A demon’s crest faintly pressed into it. Read She swallowed. The wax felt hot under her gaze. She lifted the letter and turned it over in her hand. They’re coming tonight A thunderclap rattled the windowpane. She dropped the letter. He caught it and set it on the coffee table. I need your help Her gaze snapped to him. Everything halfway between outrage and relief. Rain slid down her lashes. I don’t He stepped closer. His cane, forging a silent path on the floor, marked his advance. You know how they hunt She backed to the window. Steam rose from rooftop vents in the distance. London lights—orange, bruised—bloomed behind rain. Why should I trust you now He braced one hand on the back of the couch. He met her storm-blue eyes. Because I won’t run again She watched the ivory handle of his cane, that quiet promise of steel beneath silk. Her own pulse thudded. She closed the gap. Fingers brushed his coat lapel. He froze. Stay She let the single word fall between them like peace. He lifted one hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. Their breaths mingled—her scent of jasmine tea and grease-stained curry, his of rain and old paper. He pressed his cane against his thigh, releasing the dam of distance. I’m here She cupped his face, tracing the line of jaw and cheekbone. One amber eye glowed in her palm; the other, black as midnight ink, absorbed her light. She leaned in. His cane clattered to the floor. Steel blade sighed in its sheath. He wrapped both arms around her, pulling her into his coat. The length swallowed them in warmth. Their lips met—hard, searching, as if each kiss sealed a promise neither dared speak. Rain drummed a crescendo against the glass. Thunder rolled. The flat quivered around them. He broke the kiss, forehead resting against hers. Neither moved. Outside, London roared. Inside, silence settled like silk. He whispered, I’ll never let go She tilted her head, brushing her scar against his jaw. Her breath trembled. Just once, she managed a small smile. Stay He slid his cane from the floor and handed it to her, ivory handle first. She took it, weight anchoring her. He pressed a kiss to the top of her hand. They stood entwined as rain eased, leaving the world washed and new. Past hurt folded into their embrace. She pressed her cheek to his chest, finding the steady drum of his heart. She closed her eyes, leaning into the sturdy promise of him.