Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRCH25MVRAC0ZQ0J4ANXPW

The door swung open before Lucien could knock a second time. Rory stood there, a dish towel slung over one shoulder, her black hair damp at the temples like she’d been scrubbing something. The scent of ginger and garlic clung to her, sharp enough to cut through the stale Brick Lane air. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me." Lucien adjusted his grip on the cane. "Good evening to you too, *chérie*." Ptolemy, Eva’s tabby, wound between Rory’s ankles, tail flicking. She didn’t look down. Her bright blue eyes stayed locked on Lucien, unblinking. The crescent scar on her wrist stood out pale against her skin where her sleeve had ridden up. "You can’t just—" She stopped, jaw tightening. "How did you even find this place?" "Eva gave me the address." He tilted his head. "After I asked nicely." Rory’s fingers whitened around the doorframe. "She wouldn’t." "She did." Lucien stepped forward, close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to keep eye contact. "May I come in? Or would you prefer we discuss this in the hallway?" A muscle twitched in her cheek. She stepped back, the door swinging wider. "Five minutes. Then you’re gone." The flat was exactly as he remembered—cluttered, lived-in, every surface buried under books and scrolls and half-empty mugs of tea. Lucien ran a finger along the spine of a leather-bound tome on the coffee table. The title was in Welsh. He didn’t speak Welsh. Rory tossed the dish towel onto the kitchen counter. "Talk. Then leave." Lucien turned, leaning against the back of the sofa. "I need your help." She laughed, sharp and humorless. "Of course you do." "It’s about the Avaros contract." Her expression shuttered. "I don’t work with demons anymore." "Not even half-demons?" "Not even you." Lucien exhaled through his nose. "This isn’t about me. It’s about the girl—Lydia Voss. She’s sixteen. Her father signed her over to a collector in the Seventh Circle." Rory crossed her arms. "And?" "And she’s human. Completely. No demon blood, no magic, no nothing. Just a kid who got tangled up in the wrong deal." He tapped his cane against the floor. "Her father’s already dead. The collector’s coming for her in three days." Rory’s gaze flicked to the window, where the neon glow of Brick Lane pulsed against the glass. "What do you want me to do about it?" "Get her out. Before the collector arrives." She turned back to him, eyes narrowed. "Why me?" "Because you’re the only one who’s ever slipped past a Seventh Circle lock without setting off the wards." Lucien pushed off the sofa, closing the distance between them. "And because you owe me." Rory’s breath hitched. "I don’t owe you shit." "You walked away from the last job. Left me holding the bag with the client." His voice dropped. "I had to pay out of pocket to keep them from coming after *you*." Her fingers curled into fists. "That wasn’t my problem." "No?" Lucien reached out, brushing his thumb over the scar on her wrist. She flinched but didn’t pull away. "Then whose was it?" Rory jerked her arm back. "Don’t touch me." Lucien let his hand fall. "You want to pretend you don’t care? Fine. But that girl doesn’t have anyone else." Rory turned away, gripping the edge of the counter. "Eva’s not going to like this." "Eva doesn’t have to know." She shot him a look over her shoulder. "You really think I’d lie to her?" "I think you’d do whatever it takes to keep someone from getting hurt." Lucien stepped closer, close enough to see the pulse jumping in her throat. "Just like you did for me. Back in Cardiff." Rory’s shoulders tensed. "That was different." "Was it?" He reached past her, plucking a pen from the counter. "You risked your neck to get me out of that warehouse. Now I’m asking you to do the same for someone else." She snatched the pen from his fingers. "I’m not the same person I was then." "No?" Lucien caught her wrist, turning it so the scar faced up. "Then why does this still hurt when I touch it?" Rory yanked her arm free. "Get out." Lucien didn’t move. "You’re going to help me." "I said *get out*." He held her gaze, unflinching. "You’ll regret it if you don’t." Rory’s breath came fast, her chest rising and falling. For a second, Lucien thought she might hit him. Then her shoulders slumped, just a fraction. "Fine." Her voice was rough. "But I’m not doing it for you." Lucien smiled, slow and knowing. "I never thought you were."