Run: 2026-02-19-01KHVP5PM6RDMHGRRCQF6YCS1T

The brass knocker thudded against the oak frame. Three heavy, deliberate strikes. Ptolemy abandoned his perch on a stack of untranslated Aramaic grimoires. The tabby cat bolted beneath the rusted radiator, his striped fur puffed along his spine. Rory set down her carton of cold Golden Empress noodles. The scent of cumin, ginger, and garlic from the curry house below saturated the floorboards of the cramped flat. Rory wiped her hands on the thighs of her jeans. She navigated the treacherous labyrinth of scattered research scrolls toward the entryway. She gripped the bottom deadbolt. The cast-iron mechanism clanked back. She twisted the middle lock. Her fingers moved to the highest latch, hesitating against the cold brass before sliding the metal free. Rory pulled the door open. Lucien Moreau stood on the dingy landing. The stairwell bulb flickered, throwing harsh shadows across the chiseled angles of his face. His left eye, an abyssal black, tracked the movement of the door. His right eye burned a vivid, inhuman amber. Not a single strand of his slicked-back platinum blond hair broke rank. He wore a bespoke charcoal suit beneath a tailored wool overcoat. His posture remained rigid, both gloved hands resting atop the polished ivory handle of his cane. Rory blocked the doorway with her body. Intimidation tactics held zero weight with her. "You harbor a profound death wish, knocking like that." "I maintain a precise schedule, Aurora." "Eva is in Edinburgh. Chase her mobile down." "My business remains unrelated to Eva." The ambient air in the hallway turned stifling. Searing heat radiated from his skin, a dead giveaway of the demonic blood humming beneath his flawless exterior. Her pulse drummed a relentless rhythm against her ribs. Over a month of silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid accusations and volatile history. "I am off the clock, Lucien." "You quit your shifts at Yu-Fei Cheung’s establishment three days ago." "Delivery driving lost its charm. Dodging evening traffic built character I no longer need." "You chose to hide." "From you? Save the flattery for your informants." "From the syndicate tracking the arcane cipher we acquired in Mayfair." "There is no 'we'. You dismantled that partnership." Lucien stepped forward. The tip of his leather Oxford shoe breached the threshold. Rory held her ground. She met his dual-colored stare without flinching. His cologne, a crisp blend of cedarwood and ozone, drowned the overpowering curry aroma drifting up the stairs. "Tu es têtue." Lucien switched to his native French, the syllables slipping off his tongue with practiced ease. "English, Moreau. I lack the patience to decipher insults tonight." "I called you stubborn. Step aside." "Give me one authentic reason." "A faction of Avaros enforcers burned hollows into Silas’s bar an hour ago looking for you." The statement stole the oxygen from her lungs. The mental image of the mahogany bar—her former refuge and home—engulfed in supernatural hellfire rooted her in place. Silas had given her the flat upstairs. She abandoned it the night the cipher job went sideways, opting for the reinforced magical wards of Eva’s Brick Lane apartment. Rory retreated a single step. Lucien moved into the cramped one-bedroom flat. He dominated the confined space. Bookshelves bowed under the sheer weight of leather-bound folios. Loose parchment littered the coffee table. He navigated the chaotic ocean of paper with absolute grace. The tip of his cane tapped a hollow beat beneath the exposed floorboards. Rory pushed the heavy door shut. She secured the first deadbolt. The second lock turned. The final latch snapped into place. "Did the enforcers track you here?" "I deploy glamours out of necessity, Aurora. I do not leave a trail." Lucien stopped beside the sofa. He reached out to inspect a towering stack of translation charts, rubbing invisible dust from the velvet spine. "You inhabit a matchbox." "Eva offered sanctuary when my primary residence became compromised." "You possessed the option to contact me." "I prefer a long walk off a short pier." "Your pride remains a fatal flaw." "My survival instinct keeps me breathing." Rory crossed her arms. Her right thumb found the small, crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. The raised, familiar texture of the childhood injury served as a grounded anchor against his overwhelming presence. "You abandoned the operation at the Exchange, Lucien. You traded the ledger to the brokers, secured your payment, and vanished." "A mandatory tactical withdrawal. The elemental wards collapsed. Lingering meant fighting a dozen bound wraiths with restricted magic." "You locked the iron gate behind you." "The gate mechanism triggered upon the ward's destruction. I did not initiate the lock." "You never turned back to check." Lucien rotated on his heel. His gaze anchored onto her face with an intensity that caused the room’s temperature to spike. The demonic aura in his veins flared. A subtle, unnatural shimmer coated his broad silhouette. "I observed you scale the eastern ventilation shaft. I watched you dismantle the heavy grate lock in under forty seconds. I intercepted two ethereal patrols in the alleyway while you sprinted across the tin rooftops." Rory parted her lips. The words died in her throat. "You kept quiet about the cover fire." "Submitting an operational debriefing to earn your trust felt redundant." "Trust hinges on basic communication. You operate in perpetual shadow. You handle people like expendable assets on a board." "I never assigned you a role on any board, Aurora." Lucien closed the gap between them. The ferrule of his cane hit the rug with a muffled thud. He backed her up. The confined floor space forced her hips against the edge of Eva’s cluttered mahogany desk. "Then what am I to you?" "A ceaseless complication." He dropped his cane. The ivory handle clattered against the scattered scrolls. He reached out, his gloved fingers wrapping around her left wrist. His thumb brushed over the crescent scar. Concentrated heat poured from his touch. The friction sent a jolt of pure adrenaline racing up her arm. "I monitor the pulse of this supernatural underworld. I know the coordinates of every marked soul and the origin of every cursed artifact within city limits. Do you comprehend what I tracked for the past four weeks?" Rory maintained strict eye contact. The proximity of his face derailed her rational thoughts. He possessed an inherent gravity, pulling her in against her better judgment. "Enlighten me." "You." "I maintain a rigid routine. Work, sleep, study." "You navigated the back alleys. You rotated your schedules. You layered heavy incantations over your winter coats." "Evan dispatches his old friends to London on arbitrary whim. Taking standard precautions keeps me out of Welsh jurisdictions." Lucien tightened his grip. The mention of her abusive ex-boyfriend transformed his flawless features into a mask of pure animosity. His black eye swallowed the ambient light in the room, reflecting nothing but violence. "No associate of Evan will ever breach the city limits. I settled that matter three weeks ago." Rory froze. The disjointed events of the past month slammed together to form a concrete picture. The cessation of phantom phone calls. The absolute absence of familiar, lurking silhouettes near her delivery stops. "You crossed the border to Cardiff." "I scheduled a weekend excursion." "You interfered with my history without my consent." "I eradicated a persistent parasite." "I combat my own demons, Lucien. I fled Wales on my own terms. I forged a life in London to obliterate that exact brand of terror." "And I butcher those who dare strike at mine." He leaned closer, the scent of expensive cologne and dark magic wrapping around her. "Evan believed he could purchase information on your whereabouts at the Drowning Rat. A fatal miscalculation." The possessive weight of the declaration crashed over her. The silence in the flat stretched, rigid and unyielding. The muffled clatter of steel pots and shouted orders echoed upward from the restaurant downstairs. Ptolemy shifted beneath the radiator, his claws clicking against the hardwood. "I do not belong to you." "Deceive yourself, Aurora. Do not deceive me." Rory wrenched her arm out of his grasp. The immediate void of his physical heat left the air bitter cold. She rubbed her wrist, her bright blue eyes blazing with absolute indignation. "You shatter my routine. You disappear mid-heist. You execute my tormentors in secret. You arrive unannounced expecting blind gratitude." Lucien bent down. He retrieved his cane in one fluid motion. His thumb skimmed the concealed catch. A faint metallic click released the razor-thin steel blade an inch from the ivory handle, reflecting his internal agitation, before he snapped it shut. His composure set back into place like drying concrete. The raw, primordial heat dissipated, leaving the immaculate, unreachable information broker standing in Eva's living room. "I expect zero gratitude. I came to deliver a tactical assessment." "Your assessment is late. Silas’s bar is cinders. The hellhounds are loose in East London." "Hellhounds belong in amateur hour. The buyer from the Exchange escalated the threat. The syndicate placed a blood bounty on the arcane cipher you decoded." Rory stepped further away from the desk. She kicked a stack of translation notes with the toe of her boot. The papers spilled across the rug in a chaotic fan. "I provided the direct translation. I mapped the ritual steps to the letter." "You drafted a rigged schematic. You mirrored the runic alignment. They enacted the summoning ritual yesterday evening. The backlash incinerated half their ancestral estate." A sharp scoff broke past her lips. "I applied out-of-the-box thinking." "You weaponized your intellect against Avaros nobility." "They altered the payment terms after the drop. Short-changing a delivery driver violates a universal code of conduct." "They initiated a blood hunt." "Which brings us back to my first question." Rory planted her hands on her hips, her straight black hair falling over her shoulders. "Why are you here, Moreau?" "Because a blood hunt mandates the simultaneous eradication of the broker." Lucien leaned his weight onto his polished cane. He reached forward and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. The radiating heat from his half-demon blood returned in force, scorching the air between them. "We share this consequence, Aurora. Whether you despise my presence or not." Rory stared into his mismatched eyes. Her bright blue irises locked onto the amber and black depths. The immense wall of resentment she built over the past month fractured under the undeniable truth of his claim.