Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR73ABHHKEMP3945D1G8YE

The doorbell rang, a sharp sound piercing the quiet of the evening. Rory, curled up on Eva's couch with a book, glanced up. Ptolemy, Eva's cat, yawned lazily at the noise, unperturbed. Setting her book aside, she rose, the book now a paper barrier shielding her hand from the hot teacup as she made her way to the door. She flipped each deadbolt with deft fingers, honed by weeks of practice, and pulled the door open. Her jaw dropped slightly, blue eyes wide with surprise. "Lucien." He leaned casually against the doorframe, his platinum blond hair sleek even in the breezy evening air. A charcoal coat hung loosely over his broad shoulders. "Hello, Aurora," he drawled, his voice rich with an accent that sent shivers down her spine. A part of her, the part that had once been drawn to him in a whirlwind of attraction and intrigue, stirred. The front hall light illuminated his face, revealing his unique heterochromatic eyes, one amber, the other black as pitch. They gleamed under his thick lashes, holding her gaze. His lips, pale in the evening light, curved in a slight smile as he looked her up and down. "Are we letting just anyone in these days? You know how dangerous that can be." Rory's heart pounded, a mix of emotions flooding through her. She'd been right to expect no ordinary ex at her door. Lucien Moreau was not merely a man; he was a fixer, a half-demon with connections to the supernatural underbelly of London. And she'd been, briefly, ensnared by his otherworldly charm. "I... should've guessed it'd be you," she managed, her voice steadier than she felt. She leaned against the door, mimicking his relaxed pose. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" "I needed to see you," he said simply. "It's been... long enough." Rory's throat tightened at the memory of their last encounter. It had been in a dingy pub, both of them raw with anger and hurt, shouting accusations over the din. She'd stormed out, leaving him with a broken bottle of whisky and several broken promises. "Not long enough," she said, her tone wry. "How'd you find me anyway?" He smiled, a dangerous flash of white teeth. "I'm a man of information, Aurora. You know that. Though I must admit, your choice of company is intriguing." Rory frowned. "Company?" "The barman, Silas, I believe. He's watching us from the window upstairs." Rory's eyes darted up to the window above the door. Sure enough, Silas peered down, his expression unreadable. "Careful, Aurora. I wouldn't want you hurt." Her laugh was bitter. "Hurt? You'd be the last person I'd expect to care about that." He took a step closer, and Rory could smell the dark cologne he always wore, a mix of tobacco and spice. "I admit, I may not have shown it back then, but..." "But what?" she challenged, her breath quickening. "I cared. I always have." His words, sincere and heartfelt, jarred her. She could feel her walls cracking, those barriers she'd erected to protect herself from him after their painful breakup. She clutched the book tighter, using it as a physical barrier against the sudden onslaught of memories. "You didn't show it," she said, her voice low. "Not in any way that mattered." "I know. And I came here to change that. To start anew." He paused, eyes searching her face. "If you'll let me." The evening breeze picked up, stirring strands of black hair around Rory's face. She took a deep breath, struggling to keep her emotions in check. How many nights had she spent replaying their turbulent relationship in her head? The heat of passion, the sting of hurt, the confusion of mixed signals. It had been a maelstrom of feelings, leaving her bruised and shaken. "That's... it's not so easy," she said finally. "I know it's not, Aurora." He reached out, his hand hovering as if to touch her hair, but he stopped just short, respecting her unspoken boundary. "But we owe it to ourselves to try." Ptolemy meowed loudly from within the flat, his yowls echoing down the hall. Lucien smiled slightly at the sound. "And we have an audience," he said. "Perhaps we can continue this inside?" Rory hesitated, torn between the memory of his past incursions and the lure of his present charm. She swallowed, knowing that Eva would be back any minute with takeout from Yu-Fei's. But, more than that, she knew she needed to put the past to rest, one way or another. She stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. He was a part of her history, but whether he was her future, she'd yet to decide. "Come in," she said, "for now." As he passed, she caught a whiff of his cologne again, a scent that had once been the air she breathed, the pillow she slept on. Her heart fluttered, caught between old cravings and new reservations, between the gravity of the past and the unpredictable pull of the present.