Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0QTF8GS7YWHN8SZRNY35P

The knock at the door was sharp, deliberate. Rory froze mid-step, takeaway bag in hand, and glanced at the clock. Too late for a delivery, too early for Eva to be back from her night shift. She set the bag on the kitchen counter and crossed the flat, her socks silent on the worn hardwood. Through the peephole, the hall light caught platinum blond hair slicked back, the sharp angle of a jaw she hadn’t seen in months. Her breath hitched. She unlocked the three deadbolts in quick succession and pulled the door open. “Lucien.” “Aurora.” His voice was smooth, low, and carried that faint French accent she’d always found infuriatingly charming. He stood in the hallway, impeccably dressed as always in a charcoal suit, his ivory-handled cane resting at his side. His heterochromatic eyes—one amber, one black—locked onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist. “What are you doing here?” She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. Her tone was sharper than she intended, but the sight of him dredged up a mix of emotions she hadn’t fully unpacked. “You haven’t answered my calls.” His gaze flicked over her face, searching for something. “Or my texts. Or my emails.” “And yet, here you are.” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Showing up unannounced isn’t going to change that.” His lips thinned, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. “We need to talk.” “We talked.” She pushed off the doorframe, stepping back into the flat. “Months ago. You made your position clear.” “And you made yours.” He followed her inside, closing the door behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the cramped space. Ptolemy, Eva’s tabby cat, darted out from beneath the couch, eyeing Lucien with suspicion before retreating to the safety of the bedroom. Rory leaned against the kitchen counter, arms still crossed. The scent of curry from downstairs mingled with the faint hint of Lucien’s cologne—something woody and expensive. “So, what? You thought you’d just show up and we’d pick up where we left off?” “No.” He stepped closer, his cane tapping softly against the floor. “I thought I’d show up and we’d finally have the conversation we should’ve had months ago.” “There’s nothing left to say.” She turned her back to him, busying herself with the takeaway bag. The steam from the container fogged the air, and she focused on the warmth of it, the familiarity, anything to keep her hands steady. “You’re lying.” His voice was closer now, just behind her. She could feel the heat of him, the proximity she’d once craved now unnerving. “You’ve never been a good liar, Aurora.” She spun around, the takeaway container clutched in her hand. “And you’ve never been good at taking no for an answer.” His gaze darkened, and for a moment, silence stretched between them. Then he reached out, his fingers brushing against her wrist, just above the small crescent-shaped scar she’d carried since childhood. “You’re still wearing the bracelet.” She glanced down at the delicate silver chain he’d given her on her birthday, just before everything fell apart. “It’s a bracelet, Lucien. It doesn’t mean anything.” “Bullshit.” His thumb traced the edge of the silver links, his touch igniting a spark of memory she’d tried to bury. “You don’t keep things that don’t mean something to you.” She pulled her hand away, setting the takeaway container on the counter with a thud. “Why are you here? Really?” He hesitated, his cane tapping against the floor as he shifted his weight. “I need your help.” She barked a laugh, harsh and humorless. “Of course you do. It’s always about what you need, isn’t it?” “It’s not just about me.” His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it she couldn’t ignore. “There’s something happening in the city, something dangerous. And I can’t do this alone.” She crossed her arms, leaning back against the counter. “You’ve got plenty of allies, Lucien. People who haven’t spent the last six months trying to forget you.” His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might leave. Instead, he stepped closer, his amber and black eyes locking onto hers. “You’re right. I do have allies. But none of them are you.” Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “I’m not the same person I was when we met.” “Neither am I.” His voice softened, and she hated how it made her heart ache. “But I think we both know that doesn’t change what’s between us.” She looked away, her gaze landing on the books and scrolls scattered across the flat. Eva’s research notes, Ptolemy’s paw prints smudging the edges. Anything to avoid the intensity of his stare. “You hurt me, Lucien.” “And you hurt me.” His hand brushed against hers, tentative, questioning. “But I’m here. And I’m asking for your help. Not just for me, but for everyone.” She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. The memory of their last argument played in her mind—sharp words, accusations, the sting of betrayal. But underneath it all was the undeniable pull she’d felt from the moment they met. A connection that neither time nor distance had managed to sever. When she opened her eyes, he was still there, waiting. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—something raw and vulnerable—that made her chest tighten. “Fine.” She swallowed hard, forcing the word out before she could change her mind. “I’ll help you. But this doesn’t mean we’re okay.” A flicker of relief crossed his features, and he nodded. “Thank you.” She turned back to the takeaway container, her hands trembling as she pried it open. The scent of curry filled the air, grounding her. “You’re staying for dinner?” “If you’ll have me.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, her lips quirking in the hint of a smile. “Don’t push your luck.”