Run: 2026-02-19-01KHVP09YAA3S0CFBZF8VVVXN4

The bottom deadbolt stuck against the warped frame. Rory jammed the brass key into the lock, drove her shoulder against the battered wood of the door, and twisted the metal. A heavy metallic clank signaled victory. Two more forceful turns freed the upper deadbolts. Ptolemy wove his bulky orange form in figure-eights around her calves. A deep vibrato rattled the tabby cat’s throat. The sharp aroma of toasted cumin and garlic drifted up from the curry house below. She pulled the door open. A tailored charcoal suit absorbed the flickering light of the hallway. Lucien stood in the narrow passage. Both hands rested on the carved ivory handle of his cane. Rain darkened the broad shoulders of his jacket. Slicked-back platinum blond hair plastered to his forehead. One amber eye bored into her. The black eye offered a void. "Hello, Rory." "Give me one reason to keep this door open." "I seek sanctuary." He crossed the threshold. The movement pushed Rory backward. Eva’s cramped one-bedroom flat possessed zero spare square footage. Stacks of leather-bound grimoires, assorted scrolls, and half-empty teacups occupied every surface. Lucien brought the storm inside—a mixture of cold rain, crushed mint, and sulfur. "Eva went to Cardiff." "Eva's absence provides absolute discretion." He leaned his weight onto his cane. The concealed blade rattled inside the ivory and wood shaft. He navigated the obstacle course of alchemy books and scattered research notes. Ptolemy abandoned Rory’s ankles and trotted toward the demon. The cat rubbed his head against the sharp crease of Lucien’s trousers. "Traitor," Rory muttered beneath her breath. "Felines possess superior instincts." Lucien bent down, scratching Ptolemy behind the ears. Rory pushed the heavy door shut. She drove the three deadbolts home. The bolts slammed into their metal housings with finality. "Three months, Lucien." He straightened his posture. The street lamp outside cut through the grime on the windowpane, catching the amber in his heterochromatic gaze. "Circumstances demanded my presence in Marseille." "You left me bleeding on the floor of the Golden Empress." "I left you under the supervision of Yu-Fei. A healer of immense power." "It comes down to respect." Rory closed the distance, weaving past a stack of star charts. "We forged an alliance." Lucien adjusted his grip on the cane. "Underworld alliances possess fluid boundaries." "This is human territory. We honor pacts in Brick Lane." "You harbor unearned optimism, Aurora." Rory slapped the side of his cane. The weapon clattered against an archaic globe. Lucien caught her left wrist. His thumb pinpointed the crescent-shaped scar above her pulse. A jolt of electric heat shot up her arm. She froze in place. He stepped into her personal space. The top of her head reached his chin. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. "My departure ensured your survival. My father's followers track my associates." "You think I care about demons from Avaros?" "My enemies crave leverage. You are the ultimate pressure point." His thumb traced the curved line of her scar. The touch sent a physical ache into her bones. She ripped her arm away from his grasp. "Keep your hands off me." "Your elevated heart rate betrays a different sentiment." "I survived without you. No thanks to your grand vanishing act." "I secured the perimeter." "You abandoned the fight." Lucien retrieved his fallen cane. He brushed a speck of dust from his charcoal sleeve. "I redirected the hounds. They caught my scent at the docks. Had I engaged them at the restaurant, the resulting inferno would have reduced the Golden Empress to ash. Yu-Fei would be dead. You would be a casualty." Rory crossed her arms. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her denim jacket. "Silas mentioned you visited a broker in Mayfair. You sold the amulet." "Silas lacks the complete narrative. I exchanged the artifact for information." "What information?" Lucien loomed over her. The sheer mass of his half-demon heritage dominated the tiny living room. "Evan." Rory flinched. The name struck her chest like a physical blow. The air drained from the flat. "He found the Cardiff address," Lucien continued. "He hired a supernatural tracker. I eliminated the threat. I secured his current coordinates." "Why?" "You requested freedom. Freedom requires the neutralization of past threats." Rory swallowed hard. The ghost of an old bruise pulsed against her cheekbone. She pushed the memory away. "A dead tracker doesn't excuse your silence." "I expect no gratitude." "Then state your purpose." Lucien tilted his head. The black eye studied her posture. The amber eye blazed. He reached out to trace the curve of her jaw with the back of his knuckles. "Proximity." "You sound like a character out of a penny dreadful." "I spent considerable time in Victorian London. The phrasing lingers." Rory let her arms fall to her sides. The heat radiating from his body warmed the drafty air of the flat. "The couch is yours. Ptolemy sheds everywhere." "I possess a fondness for shedding creatures." "Don't flatter yourself. He loves whoever opens the tuna cans." Lucien offered a fractured smile. The expression softened his sharp aristocratic features. "We share common traits. Hunger and survival." Rory backed away. Her shoulder blades hit the edge of a towering wooden bookshelf. A stack of paperbacks tumbled to the floorboard. Dust flew into the air. "Watch the first editions. Eva murders people over book damage." Lucien crouched down. He gathered the fallen literature with practiced hands. "Your friend requires organizational intervention." "Eva utilizes chaos as a defensive mechanism." He stood up flat against her pressing her into the wooden shelves. She inhaled the sharp scent of his cologne. "Chaos exacts a toll, Rory." "I manage chaos daily. Delivering wantons across town brings enough danger." "Mortal peril pales in comparison to the forces lurking beneath the pavement." "I held my own before you strutted into Silas' bar." He leaned a fraction closer. "Did you?" Rory glared up at him. "I escaped Evan. I found this sanctuary." "You fled a mortal abuser and stepped directly into the path of monsters." "You count yourself among the monsters." "A half-monster." "Lethal nonetheless." "Lethal on your behalf." Rory searched his face for deception. His expression offered absolute conviction. "You cut me out, Luc." "I embraced the fire to shield you from the ash." "Partnerships demand shared risks." He touched her jaw again. This time his palm rested against her neck. His thumb felt the steady beat of her pulse. "Mortals burn in an instant. I need you whole." Rory leaned into the warmth of his hand. The resentment fractured, leaving behind a raw hollow in her chest. "Stop manipulating the board behind my back." "An ingrained habit." "Fix it." Lucien stepped back. The cold rushed in to fill the gap. He turned his attention to the squabble of books. "The journey across the Channel depleted my reserves. I require sustenance." "Leftover chicken tikka sits in the fridge. Might be cold." "A feast of unparalleled luxury." He walked toward the tiny kitchenette. Ptolemy trailed his steps like an orange shadow. Rory stayed pinned against the bookshelf. She touched the skin on her neck. The heat of his palm lingered. The scent of ozone and mint masked the aroma of the curry house downstairs. Lucien opened the narrow refrigerator. The harsh white bulb illuminated his sharp profile. "Your hospitality matches your fierce disposition, Aurora." "Wait until the morning. I charge rent in the form of deep-cleaning." "A fair exchange." He retrieved the plastic container. He moved with a feline grace, bypassing the stacks of runic translations. Rory watched him pry the lid off. The mundane action stripped away the terrifying aura of the underworld fixer. He looked out of place standing in a cluttered human kitchen wearing a charcoal suit worth more than her annual salary. "There's a fork in the left drawer." He opened the drawer. The silverware clattered. "I destroyed the tracker's files," Lucien noted. "Evan possesses no further leads. The trail ends in ashes." "Will he hire another?" "The community recognizes my warning. Those who accept bounties from Evan Carter will answer the blade of my cane. The information network considers the job radioactive." Rory felt the invisible weight lift from her shoulders. Years of checking over her shoulder melted into the floorboards of Eva's flat. "You threatened an entire network of trackers?" "I corrected their priorities." He took a bite of the cold chicken. He chewed with deliberate precision. "He won't stop, Luc." "He lacks the means to pursue. Mortals tire. Mortals run out of currency." "Evan holds grudges like a religion." Lucien set the plastic container onto the counter. He wiped his hands on a nearby dish towel. His eyes locked onto hers across the cluttered room. "Let him harbor his grudges. He cannot breach the wards of Brick Lane." "Wards crack." "I do not crack." Rory pushed herself off the bookshelf. She crossed the room holding his gaze. The space between them vanished once more. "You promise protection. You demand distance. It makes no sense." "Demon blood dictates possession. Human blood demands caution. I wage a constant internal war." "And who is winning?" He reached for her hand. His fingers traced the crescent scar on her wrist a second time. "You are." She laced her fingers through his. His skin felt like polished stone. "I am tired of hiding," she admitted. "Tired of looking over my shoulder during my delivery routes. Tired of jumping at shadows." "The shadows bow to me. You walk in my domain now." "I walk my own path." "An intersecting trajectory." He pulled her against his chest. The buttons of his waistcoat pressed into her jacket. She tilted her head up. The amber eye glowed. The black eye consumed the light. "Stay here tonight," Rory murmured. "I intended nothing else." Ptolemy jumped onto the counter next to the abandoned container of chicken tikka. Lucien snapped his fingers. The feline froze. "Not for you, beast," Lucien warned. Rory allowed a genuine laugh to escape her throat. The tension shattered. "He doesn't speak French, Luc." "Animals comprehend the universal tone of authority." "He understands the tone of a pushover. Watch." Ptolemy snagged a piece of chicken with a swift paw swipe and bolted off the counter, scrambling under the velvet armchair. Lucien stared at the empty space. "A strategic retreat." "Welcome to Eva's flat. Survive the cat, and we'll see about the rest." Lucien turned his attention back to Rory. The distance dissolved. His breath ghosted across her lips. "I embrace the challenge, Aurora."