Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPT7JSNVF3FPP3HNBE22A0

The deadbolt scraped back with a sound like a knife being drawn. Rory’s breath hitched, fingers tightening around the edge of the door. The chain rattled, the last barrier between her and the hallway’s dim light. Lucien stood there, one hand resting on the frame, the other gripping his ivory-handled cane. His amber eye caught the glow from the curry house sign below, sharp as a blade’s edge. The black one swallowed the light whole. "You’re not Eva." Rory’s pulse hammered in her throat. "No. She’s at work." A beat. The scent of spices curled between them—cumin, cardamom, something smoky. Ptolemy wound around Lucien’s ankles, tail flicking, but the cat’s usual purr was absent. Lucien’s mouth quirked. "Then I suppose you’ll have to do." She should’ve slammed the door. Should’ve told him to leave. But the words stuck, and instead she stepped back, letting him inside. The flat was a mess of scrolls and half-empty teacups, the air thick with the weight of Eva’s research. Lucien’s cane tapped against the floorboards as he moved, his tailored suit a stark contrast to the clutter. He stopped in front of the bookshelf, running a finger along the spines. "You always did have a habit of turning up where you weren’t wanted." Rory crossed her arms. "Funny. I was about to say the same." His laugh was low, rough. "Touché." She watched him, the way his shoulders filled the space, the way his heterochromatic eyes tracked her like she was prey. Or maybe that was just her pulse jumping again. "You look different," he said. "Three years’ll do that." "Three years, two months, and—" He checked his watch. "Sixteen days." Her stomach twisted. "You kept count?" "Didn’t you?" The question hung between them, heavy as the silence that followed. Rory turned away, busying herself with straightening a stack of papers that didn’t need straightening. "What do you want, Lucien?" His cane tapped once, twice. "I need a favor." "Of course you do." "Rory—" "No." She spun back around. "You don’t get to show up after all this time and ask for favors. Not after the way you left." His jaw tightened. "You know why I had to go." "Do I?" Her voice cracked. "Because from where I stood, it looked like you just walked away." Ptolemy leapt onto the couch, tail lashing. Lucien’s fingers flexed around his cane. "You think I wanted to leave?" "I think you did." The words hung there, sharp and final. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Lucien stepped closer, close enough that she could see the faint scar above his eyebrow, the way his breath hitched when she didn’t back away. "You’re wrong," he said softly. Her throat went dry. "Then why?" "Because I had no choice." "Everyone has a choice." "Not when the alternative was watching you get hurt because of me." The air left her lungs. "That’s not—" "It is." His voice was rough. "You think I didn’t see the way they looked at you? The way they *still* look at you? You’re human, Rory. Fragile. And I—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. She wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she wasn’t some damsel in need of saving. But the words died on her lips because she *had* been hurt. Because of him. Because of what he was. Lucien exhaled, long and slow. "I didn’t come here to fight." "Then why *did* you come?" His gaze dropped to her wrist, to the crescent-shaped scar peeking out from under her sleeve. "Because I need your help." She laughed, sharp and bitter. "Of course. Because that’s all I’ve ever been to you, isn’t it? A means to an end." "That’s not fair." "Isn’t it?" She stepped closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his amber eye. "Tell me, Lucien. If I wasn’t useful, would you even be here?" His silence was answer enough. Rory turned away, pressing her palms to her eyes. "Get out." "Rory—" "I said *out*." The floorboards creaked as he moved toward the door. She didn’t watch him leave. Didn’t let herself breathe until the deadbolt clicked back into place. Ptolemy jumped down from the couch, rubbing against her legs. She sank onto the floor, fingers trembling. The door handle rattled. Rory’s head snapped up. Lucien stood there, one hand still on the knob, the other pressed against the wood like he was holding himself back. His black eye gleamed in the dim light. "You’re right," he said, voice rough. "I *did* come here because I needed something. But that’s not the only reason." She swallowed. "Then what is?" His gaze burned into hers. "Because I missed you." The words hit her like a punch to the chest. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Lucien stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. "I tried to stay away. Tried to tell myself it was better this way. But I—" He cut himself off, jaw tightening. "I can’t do it anymore." Rory’s heart hammered. "Lucien—" "I know I don’t deserve another chance." His voice was low, raw. "But I’m asking for one anyway." She should’ve told him no. Should’ve walked away. But the way he was looking at her—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered—made her chest ache. Ptolemy meowed, breaking the spell. Rory exhaled, long and shaky. "You’re an idiot." Lucien’s mouth quirked. "I’ve been called worse." She stepped closer, close enough to see the way his breath hitched when she reached out, her fingers brushing the back of his hand. "You hurt me." "I know." "And you left." "I know." She swallowed. "If you do it again—" "I won’t." The words hung between them, heavy with promise. Rory’s fingers curled around his, pulling him closer. "You’d better not." Lucien’s free hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "I won’t," he repeated, softer this time. And then he kissed her. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate, hungry, like he’d been starving for three years and she was the only thing that could sate him. Rory kissed him back just as fiercely, her hands fisting in his lapels, pulling him closer. When they finally broke apart, Lucien rested his forehead against hers, breath ragged. "I should’ve come back sooner." Rory’s laugh was shaky. "Yeah. You should have." His thumb traced the scar on her wrist. "I’m sorry." She leaned into his touch. "Me too." Ptolemy meowed again, tail flicking as he wound between their legs. Lucien chuckled, low and rough, and Rory’s heart stuttered. Maybe some things were worth the wait.