Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR0P6WXNHAAK6DTE557HM1

Aurora’s hand froze on the doorknob. The bone-deep chill wrapping around her pulse wasn’t from the evening air outside. The door, three deadbolts and all, swung open with a deliberately slow creak. Standing there was Lucien, like a shadow molten into flesh — smooth charcoal suit perfectly pressed, one amber eye catching the dull light, the other black as midnight. The ivory handle of his cane tucked like a secret under one arm. The silence stretched long enough for the curtains on the street to sway in the light breeze. Ptolemy, Eva’s tabby, appeared behind Lucien, arching his back then flicking his tail, eyes narrowing as he regarded the visitor with suspicion. “Lucien,” Aurora said, voice sharper than intended, lips twitching like she was about to shut the door and never open it again. But she didn’t. Somehow, her fingers loosened around the frame, letting him inside. “I didn’t come to start a fight, Laila,” he said, tone polished but with a raw edge lurking beneath, like a blade just beneath the silk. She raised an eyebrow but kept moving to make space. “You’re a long way from Marseille. Or London’s usual haunts.” Her bright blue eyes fixed him, steady and unflinching. “I hear you’re tangled up in something messy. Thought I should check in.” His half-smile was more question than comfort. Aurora stepped aside, and he entered, the scent of expensive cologne shifting the stale air in the cramped flat. As he settled in, the echo of past arguments teased the edges of her mind — all the things they’d left burning between them. “You’re always good at showing up uninvited," she murmured, folding her arms tight across her chest. “What, wanted to see if I’d keep ghosting you?” Lucien limped just slightly on the cane as he walked to the window, the city beyond stretching out but feeling smaller somehow. “I wouldn’t say it was friendly concern... more necessity.” She laughed, sharp and brittle. “Necessity from a liar? That’s rich.” He turned slowly, eyes flickering with years of grudges and... something else. Something dangerously close to regret. “You don’t trust me. Not anymore.” “And you think I should? After you walked away?” She pointed to the scar just visible on her wrist, deliberately rough with calloused fingers. “You left me bleeding, Luc. You chose your secrets over me.” Lucien’s gaze dropped for a bare moment, flicked back up with unnatural speed. “I did what I had to. Maybe you didn’t see the bigger game.” “I saw enough to know I was collateral.” Her voice cracked, then steeled. “Don’t act like you were the victim here.” He sighed, cane tapping softly against the floor. “I’m not looking for pity. Just... answers.” She didn’t move, didn’t invite him closer. But the air thickened. The distance between them collapsed fractionally with every heavy breath. Eva’s voice echoed up from down the hall: “Aurora?” Aurora glanced toward the door, then looked back at Lucien, eyes narrowing. “You’re not staying long, right?” Lucien nodded, slow and deliberate. “A few hours, maybe. If you’ll have me.” Ptolemy, suddenly bold, padded forward, winding between their legs and brushing against Lucien’s cane. The half-demon paused, hand dropping to ruffle the cat’s fur, faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Looks like I’m not so unwelcome.” “Don’t read too much into it,” Aurora warned, shoulders blinking awake after the tension. “This place still smells like Eva and her endless books.” Lucien glanced around, eyes scanning piles of scrolls, worn tomes and scribbled notes spilling from every surface. “Always knew you’d end up a scholar instead of a barrister.” She quirked her lips, a ghost of affection sparking in the locked gaze. “Running from the law doesn’t mean you can escape it.” The clock ticked somewhere between them, the silence folding tighter until Lucien finally broke it. “Why did you leave, Rory? After everything... why?” Aurora hugged her arms now, chin dipping slightly. “Because when I needed you, you vanished. No explanations. No warnings. Just gone. And I had to survive anyway I could.” He leaned on the cane, fingers curling around the ivory handle. “I was bound. Tied by debts and dangers I couldn’t drag you into.” “Maybe you should’ve told me,” she cut in, voice low but fierce. “Because you didn’t just disappear. You betrayed me.” Lucien’s amber eye flickered with a flicker of pain that wasn’t quite human. “Betrayal’s a dark word, Laila.” “You made it dark,” she shot back, stepping forward despite herself, the space between shrinking faster than she wanted. His eyes locked with hers, that dangerous dance restarting. “You left me no choice.” “And you gave me nothing but silence.” They breathed, a mutual storm in the quiet room. “I’m here now,” he said, softer almost, the glint of the blade inside the cane catching the light and fading. “To fix some of what broke.” Aurora studied that rare vulnerability. “Can you? Fix me?” Lucien flicked a strand of platinum hair back behind his ear. “Not alone. But I want to try.” She didn’t smile. Didn’t reach out. But when the knuckles of her right hand brushed his sleeve, the scar on her wrist thawed in the cold room, she thought maybe, just maybe, some things weren’t as broken as they seemed.