Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRGACRB255M2NW723KSQNB

Aurora stood in the cramped kitchen of Eva's flat, the scent of curry wafting through the air from the restaurant below. She stirred a pot of lentils, her mind drifting to the stack of books piled high on the table. The tabby cat, Ptolemy, lounged lazily on the windowsill, soaking up the afternoon sun. A sudden knock shattered the quiet. She wiped her hands on a dish towel, glancing at the door. “Who the hell?” she muttered, her brow furrowing. Another knock, more insistent this time. “Coming!” she called, her heart racing. She opened the door, and there he stood. Lucien Moreau, impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his platinum blond hair slicked back. The sunlight caught the glint of his heterochromatic eyes—one amber, one black. “Lucien,” she breathed, the name slipping from her lips like a secret. “Rory,” he replied, his voice smooth, yet edged with something unspoken. She stepped back, allowing him to enter. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing them in the small space. “Nice place you’ve got here,” he said, glancing around at the clutter of books and scrolls. “Thanks,” she replied, crossing her arms. “What are you doing here?” He shifted his weight, the ivory-handled cane tapping lightly against the floor. “I needed to talk.” “About what? The last time we spoke, you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to see me again.” His gaze dropped to the floor, a flicker of regret crossing his face. “I know. I was… a fool.” “Foolishness doesn’t quite cover it.” Ptolemy jumped down from the windowsill, weaving between Lucien’s legs. He barely noticed, his focus locked on Rory. “Can we sit?” “Why? So you can tell me how you’ve been living your best life without me?” “Rory—” “Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice sharp. “You don’t get to use my name like that. Not after everything.” He took a step closer, the air thickening between them. “I’m not here to hurt you. I came because I need your help.” “Help?” She scoffed, disbelief coloring her tone. “You think I’d help you after how you left?” “I didn’t leave. I was pushed.” “By who? Your demon father? Your fancy connections?” “By circumstances,” he shot back, frustration creeping into his voice. “You don’t understand.” “Try me.” He ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders evident. “I was caught up in something bigger than both of us. I thought I could protect you by staying away.” “Protect me?” She laughed, the sound bitter. “You think abandoning me was protection?” “I thought it was for the best.” “Your best or mine?” Lucien’s expression hardened, but she saw the flicker of vulnerability beneath. “I didn’t want to drag you into my world. It’s dangerous.” “Dangerous? You mean like the danger you put me in when you walked away?” He stepped back, the distance between them growing. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Rory. I never did.” “Then why did you?” “Because I thought I was saving you.” “By leaving?” “By keeping you away from the darkness that follows me.” “Darkness? You think I can’t handle a little darkness?” “Not this kind.” She clenched her fists, the memories flooding back—late nights spent talking, laughter shared over takeout, the way he had looked at her like she was the only person in the room. “Why now?” she asked, her voice softer. “Why show up after all this time?” “Because I need you. There’s something happening, something I can’t face alone.” “What is it?” He hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor. “I can’t explain here. It’s too risky.” “Risky? You think I’m afraid of a little risk?” “Rory, please.” The plea hung in the air, heavy with unspoken words. She studied him, the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands fidgeted with the cane. “Fine,” she said, her resolve wavering. “But you better start talking.” He nodded, relief washing over his features. “Let’s sit.” They moved to the small table, the clutter pushed aside to make room. Lucien leaned forward, his voice low. “There’s a group in London, a faction that’s been hunting down half-demons. They’re getting bolder.” “Why would they come after you?” “Because of who I am. My father’s legacy.” “Your father?” “His enemies want to eliminate any trace of him. I’m a target.” “And you think I can help?” “I need someone who knows the city, who can navigate the underbelly.” “Why not go to your fancy friends?” “Because they’re part of the problem. I can’t trust them.” Rory leaned back, crossing her arms again. “And you think I’m trustworthy?” “I know you are.” The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. She looked away, her heart racing. “Rory, I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t believe you could help.” “Help you with what? Running away?” “Help me find out who’s behind this. I can’t do it alone.” “Why should I care?” “Because if they find me, they’ll come for you too.” The weight of his words settled in the room, thick and suffocating. She met his gaze, searching for the truth in his eyes. “Why should I trust you?” “Because I’m here, aren’t I? I came back.” “After leaving me in the dark.” “I was wrong.” “Wrong doesn’t fix anything.” “I know.” Silence stretched between them, the air charged with tension. Lucien’s eyes softened, and for a moment, she saw the man she once knew—the one who made her laugh, who held her close on cold nights. “Rory,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need you.” She swallowed hard, the memories flooding back, the hurt mingling with something else—something she had buried deep. “Fine,” she finally said, her voice steady. “But this better not be a mistake.” “It won’t be.” “Let’s get to work then.” As they began to strategize, the past lingered in the air, unspoken but palpable. The tension between them crackled, a reminder of what had been and what could still be.