Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRKM54ASD9D2XZNRF7FQEY

Aurora Carter stood in the shadowy doorway of Eva’s flat, fingers tracing the cool metal of the doorknob. She hadn’t expected anyone tonight, least of all him. The dim hallway spilled faint golden light from the cluttered living room, casting flickering shapes on the cracked plaster walls. The faint hum of distant traffic mixed with the steady purring of Ptolemy, the tabby curled atop a mountain of books just inside. The weight of anticipation pressed into her chest. She didn’t know what she’d find—him, Lucien, standing there, limbs tense, or perhaps gone. Still, she hadn’t anticipated the way her pulse quickened as she opened the door wider. The scent of leather and something darker seeped into her nostrils—cigarettes, maybe, or something sharper. Lucien’s figure loomed just inside, perfectly still. He was the sort of man who appeared as if he’d been carved from midnight and moonlight, chances from Marseille etched into every movement. His platinum hair slicked back, sharp suit pristine despite the chaos outside. Eyes—heterochromatic, one amber, one black—locked onto her with unwavering intensity. Time seemed to stretch. Neither spoke. Aurora’s lips pressed together, bracing herself. She kept her stance neutral, hands not trembling despite her pounding heart. He stepped forward, cane murmuring softly against the floor. The ivory handle gleamed. He studied her with that quiet, calculating gaze that always made her feel like he saw past the surface. “You’re surprised,” he said, voice smooth, almost too calm. She folded her arms. “Yeah, no kidding.” Her voice came out rougher than she wanted. “What are you doing here?” “Got a message,” Lucien murmured, voice low. “From an old friend.” That set her back a step. She eyed him, wary. “Is that so? Thought you had your own business.” He shrugged, subtly shifting his weight. “Sometimes, surfaces deceive. You know how it is—London’s a city of whispers, full of secrets. And I hear things.” Her gaze sharpened. “Yeah, well, I don’t have time for riddles.” He chuckled softly, the smile fleeting. “Neither do I. That’s why I don’t bother with empty courtesies.” He stepped closer, cane in hand. “I needed to see you. Face-to-face.” She stiffened. Memories flickered—pain, anger, things she’d buried months ago. “Why now?” she asked, voice husky. Lucien’s gaze softened for a flicker, then snapped back into place. “Because I’ve got something you want—information. And you’ve got something I need. It’s only fair we talk.” “Fair?” Aurora echoed, challenging. “This sounds like one of your games.” He leaned slightly forward. “It’s complicated. But I know what I’m doing. I wouldn’t have come here otherwise.” She considered him, wary but undeniably drawn in. His presence still tugged at something buried deep inside her—a spark she had thought extinguished. For a moment, she wondered if she should shut the door. Walk away. But part of her, the stubborn part, stayed rooted in place. “Fine,” she said finally, voice quiet but firm. “Come in.” Lucien’s eyes flickered with approval as he stepped past her. His cane tapped softly as he moved deeper into the cramped flat, scanning the chaos of papers, scrolls, and books piled high around them. “Nice place,” he said, voice edged with irony. She shot him a look. “It’s not a palace. You should know that.” He smirked, perching his hand on his cane. “No, but the chaos suits you.” Ptolemy lifted his head at the sound of voices, both eyes narrowing at Lucien before he stretched and yawned loudly. Aurora crossed her arms again. “So, what’s this about?” Lucien reached into his coat, pulled out a small leather-bound notebook, and held it out. “This. It’s what I came for.” She hesitated, then took it. Her fingers brushed his briefly—an electric, fleeting contact she refused to dwell on. “What’s inside?” she asked. He gave a tight smile. “The truth. About what you’re after—and what I’m risking to tell you.” A flicker of something in her belly—a reminder of what they’d once been—made her voice softer. “I don’t trust easily, Lucien. You know that.” He nodded. “Good. That’s why this matters.” She thumbed the edge of the notebook, studying his face. Beneath the veneer of calm, she saw the weight of old secrets. “If you’ve got info, then spill it.” Lucien’s gaze lingered, briefly more tender than he intended. Then he looked away, voice gritty. “There’s a creature, something dark, stirring in the shadows. It’ll ripple through the underworld and beyond if it gets loose. And I think you’re the only one who can stop it.” She blinked, steadying herself. The words hit her like a punch. “And what do you want from me?” “Help,” he said simply. “Or watch everything fall apart.” She stared at the notebook again, then back at him. “You always did have a flair for dramatic entrances.” He allowed himself a small, rare smile. “Now you’re beginning to see why I came.” A silence settled between them, thick with unspoken words and history. Aurora looked at him—this man who’d once been her anchor and her storm—wondering if she’d just walked back into a nightmare, or if she’d found something worth fighting for again. Outside, the city hummed on. Inside, their fractured world realigned, teetering on the edge of something dangerous.