Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRCTPF0GA7YHH3E4SCVFTK

Aurora's fingers froze on the spine of the book she'd been about to shelve, her eyes fixed on the peephole of Eva's front door as the knock came again – louder, this time, and more insistent. She'd been expecting a delivery of texts from the university library, but the knock didn't sound like the usual courier. Ptolemy, sensing her tension, rubbed against her leg with a soothing purr. Rory's mind skipped over the possibilities as she made her way to the door. She checked the peephole again, the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist itching as she did. The figure on the other side was a study in contrasts: platinum-blond hair slicked back to reveal a face that seemed chiselled from the shadows themselves. Lucien Moreau's eyes gleamed like lanterns in the dark, his gaze steady as he met hers. Her stomach executed a perfect dive, all memories of the past flooding back in an unwelcome rush. Rory's fingers hesitated on the latch, the security deadbolts seeming woefully inadequate against the storm brewing behind Lucien's gaze. "Rory," he said, low and smooth as silk, his voice weaving a spell she'd thought she'd long broken free of. "We need to talk." She opened the door a crack, wary, her hand on the frame a deliberate barrier. "What do you want, Lucien?" His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, a wry, self-deprecating smile that hinted at the thousand unresolved issues between them. "Can I come in? Please?" Rory's grip on the door tightened, her mind a battleground of conflicting desires. She knew she shouldn't let him in – knew it with every fibre of her being. Yet, the man standing on her threshold exuded a quiet, desperate urgency that seemed to unravel her resolve thread by thread. "Fine," she said finally, stepping back to allow him entry. As Lucien passed her, the air was filled with the scent of expensive cologne and the soft rustle of his charcoal suit. Rory's skin prickled with awareness, every cell remembering the way he used to make her feel – like the only person in the world who mattered. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing through the flat like a portent. Lucien's eyes scanned the room, taking in the scattered papers and books that had become her life since she'd fled Cardiff. His gaze lingered on the research notes covering every available surface, a flicker of curiosity dancing across his features. "You've been busy," he observed, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and something deeper – something almost like longing. Rory shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the turmoil brewing inside. "I've had a lot to catch up on." The air was heavy with unspoken words, the silence between them thick and treacherous. Ptolemy, sensing the tension, wove between Rory's legs, his tail twitching like a metronome. Lucien took a step closer, his movements fluid, economical. "I know I shouldn't have come here, Rory. But I had to see you. To explain." Rory's heart stuttered, her palms growing slick with sweat. "Explain what?" A tiny muscle in his jaw twitched, a betrayal of the emotion he kept tightly leashed. "What happened between us. Why I left." She laughed, a sound that came out sharp and brittle. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea. You got what you wanted, and then you left. That's what you do, Lucien – you use people, and then you discard them." His eyes flashed, a spark of anger igniting in their depths. For a moment, Rory thought he might lash out, his mask of calm slipping to reveal the inferno beneath. But then, with a quiet, deliberate movement, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, slim package wrapped in brown paper. "I brought this for you," he said, his voice low, his eyes never leaving hers. "I know it won't make up for what I did, but I want you to have it." Rory's heart was racing now, her palms itching to reach out, to take the package and unwrap it, to uncover the secrets hidden within. She knew she shouldn't – knew that accepting anything from Lucien would be a betrayal of herself, of her own strength and resilience. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw something there, something that gave her pause. A flicker of hope, perhaps, or a glimmer of redemption. Whatever it was, it reached deep into her chest, grasping for the heart she'd thought she'd long protected. With a sense of inevitability, Rory reached out, her fingers brushing against Lucien's as she took the package. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, a spark that seemed to leap from her skin to his, igniting a fire that had never truly gone out. "I'll listen," she said, the words barely above a whisper. "But that's all I'm promising." Lucien's face twisted into a wry, sad smile. "I wouldn't expect anything more, Rory. Not from you." As he spoke, the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, the air thickening with anticipation. Rory's fingers wrapped around the package, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum. She knew that she was taking a risk, that opening herself up to Lucien again might be the most foolish thing she'd ever done. But as she met his gaze, she saw something there that gave her the courage to take the leap – a glimmer of a chance, perhaps, or a promise of redemption. Whatever it was, it was enough to make her take the first step into the unknown, to see where this treacherous, twisted path might lead.