Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0ZVCVSX403WMT596HP8V7

The three deadbolts clicked open one by one, each metallic sound echoing in the narrow hallway. The door to Eva's flat swung inward, revealing Rory in the dim light of the entryway. Her straight black hair was pulled back in a messy knot, a few strands framing her face. Bright blue eyes widened in surprise as they landed on the figure standing outside. Lucien. He stood there leaning slightly on his ivory-handled cane, his tailored charcoal suit immaculate despite the drizzly London evening. His heterochromatic eyes—one amber, one black—fixed on her face, betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Rory." Her fingers tightened on the doorknob. "What are you doing here?" "May I come in?" He gestured with his free hand toward the cramped flat behind her. "Or would you prefer to have this conversation in the hallway where your neighbors can enjoy the show?" Rory stepped aside, her movements stiff. "Make it quick. I was just leaving." Lucien entered, his gaze sweeping over the familiar chaos of books, scrolls, and research papers covering every available surface. Ptolemy, Eva's tabby cat, arched his back from his perch on a stack of ancient manuscripts, hissing before disappearing into the bedroom. "Still hiding behind Eva's research, I see." Lucien turned to face her, the faint scent of something otherworldly—like ozone and old parchment—surrounding him. "Still breaking into places you're not welcome, I see." Rory crossed her arms, the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist visible where her sleeve rode up. "How did you even find me?" Lucien's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm an information broker, Rory. Finding people is what I do." "Breaking hearts is also what you do." The words slipped out, sharper than she intended. The smile vanished. "That wasn't what happened and you know it." "Did you come here to rehash the past?" Rory moved toward the tiny kitchen area, putting distance between them. "Because I'm not interested." "I came because something's happening." Lucien followed her, his cane tapping softly against the floorboards. "Something that involves you whether you like it or not." Rory spun around, her blue eyes flashing. "I left that world behind. I'm done with demons and deals and—" "And me?" Lucien stepped closer, close enough that she could see the faint amber flecks in his otherwise black eye. "Are you done with me too?" Her breath hitched. "You made your choice, Lucien. You chose your father's world over—" "Over you?" His voice was low, rough. "Is that what you really think happened?" "What else am I supposed to think?" Rory's voice rose. "One morning you're making coffee in my flat, talking about weekend plans, and the next you're gone without a word. Just a note saying 'It's better this way.' What was I supposed to make of that?" Lucien reached out, his fingers almost brushing her arm before she flinched away. "My father's people found out about us. About you. They don't take kindly to humans associating with half-bloods, especially not ones who know about our world." "So you what? Decided to protect me by disappearing?" Rory shook her head. "That's such bullshit and you know it." "I was trying to keep you alive!" His voice echoed in the small flat. For a moment, the human facade slipped, and something ancient and dangerous flashed in his eyes. "When my father's lieutenant showed up at my door with threats about what would happen to you if I continued this... this dalliance with a human, what exactly was I supposed to do?" "You could have talked to me!" Rory's hands clenched into fists. "You could have trusted me instead of making decisions for both of us!" Lucien ran a hand through his slicked-back blond hair, disheveling the perfect strands. "And what would you have done, Rory? Fought back? You're human. You wouldn't have stood a chance against what they would have sent." "You don't know that." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You didn't give me a chance." The space between them crackled with unresolved tension, with months of unspoken words and feelings. Rory could feel the pull of him, the same magnetic attraction that had drawn her in from the moment they'd met—her delivering takeout from Golden Empress to his office in that discreet building in Soho. "Why are you really here, Lucien?" she asked, her voice softer now. "What's happening?" He leaned his cane against the wall, his shoulders slumping slightly. "My father's dead. The demon lords are positioning themselves to take control of his territory. And somehow, your name has come up in the discussions." "My name?" Rory frowned. "How? I'm just a delivery girl who—" "Who knows about our world. Who was involved with a half-demon. Who has connections to people who interest them." Lucien's eyes met hers. "They're coming for you, Rory. Whether you're 'done' with that world or not." Rory sank into the overstuffed armchair buried beneath a pile of books, her mind racing. "What do they want with me?" "Information. Leverage. Possibly just to make a point." Lucien knelt in front of her, his voice low and urgent. "You need to leave London. Go somewhere they can't find you." "And what about you?" The question escaped before she could stop it. Lucien's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "I'll handle things on this end." "That's what you said last time before you disappeared." A bitter laugh escaped Rory's lips. "How do I know you won't just vanish again?" Lucien reached out, this time letting his fingers gently trace the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist—a reminder of her human fragility that he had once kissed so tenderly. "Because this time," he said, his amber eye catching the light, "I'm asking you to trust me."