Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7JWX45RJAGJ8JS04Z4M68

The brass knocker rattled against the door of Eva’s flat like a warning, sharp and insistent. Aurora Carter stepped back, her fingers curling around the edge of the frame, her bright blue eyes flicking over the familiar clutter of books and scrolls lining the walls. She exhaled through her nose, the scent of old paper and something faintly metallic—Eva’s usual perfume—waving at her like a ghost. The door swung open before she could knock again. Lucien Moreau stood there, his tailored charcoal suit immaculate, his platinum hair slicked back just enough to make his heterochromatic eyes—one amber, one black—gleam. He didn’t smile. Not yet. His cane rested against the doorframe, the ivory handle polished to a shine, the blade concealed beneath the polished wood. He wore the same expression Aurora had seen in the mirror too many times to count: the kind that said he was already deciding what she’d done wrong. Aurora’s breath hitched. *Eva.* She should have known. The way he’d phrased the message—*Lucien needs to see you*—had been too precise, too final. Like he’d already made up his mind about what to do next. “You’re late,” she said, voice too sharp. Lucien’s lips twitched, just once. “I was delayed.” “By what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. The scent of his cologne—something dark and woodsy—filled the air, clashing with the musty smell of Eva’s flat. Aurora’s stomach twisted. She should have left. She should have walked away. But the way he moved—elegant, deliberate—made her want to watch him, to see what he’d come for. “Sit down,” he said, gesturing to the worn leather couch in the corner. “I’ll make tea.” Aurora hesitated. Eva’s flat was a mess, but it was *hers*. It was where she lived, where she slept, where she thought about the things she couldn’t say out loud. She didn’t want him here. Not like this. But then she saw the way his fingers flexed around the cane, the way his gaze lingered on the scar on her wrist—small, crescent-shaped, a reminder of a childhood accident she’d never told him about. The scar that had once been a secret between them. She sat. The tea was bitter, the kind of black tea that tasted like ash. Lucien poured it into two delicate china cups, his movements precise, unhurried. He didn’t offer her one first. He didn’t have to. “You’re here because of Eva,” Aurora said, finally. Lucien’s jaw tightened. “She’s in trouble.” Aurora’s pulse spiked. “What kind of trouble?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, his cane tapping lightly against the floor. “She’s been taken.” Aurora’s breath caught. “Taken by who?” “Someone who doesn’t play by the rules.” The words hung between them, heavy with implication. Aurora’s fingers tightened around her cup. She remembered the way Eva had looked when she’d last seen her—wide-eyed, terrified, her usual sharp wit gone. She remembered the way Lucien had looked when he’d told her she had to leave Cardiff, that Evan was a danger. And then there was the way he’d looked when he’d walked out of her life. “You didn’t tell me,” she said, voice low. Lucien’s eyes darkened. “I didn’t think you’d want to know.” Aurora’s chest ached. “You could have warned me.” “You wouldn’t have listened.” The words stung. She’d been so sure, so certain that she could handle Evan on her own. That she could outrun the past. That she could forget how Lucien had looked when he’d told her he was leaving—when he’d said he couldn’t risk her getting hurt again. “Why now?” she asked. “Why come to me?” Lucien’s gaze flicked to her wrist, then back up to her face. “Because you’re the only one who can help.” Aurora’s stomach twisted. “I don’t know how.” “You don’t have to.” His voice was low, dangerous. “But you’ll find out.” She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t strong enough, that she couldn’t do this. But the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the room who mattered—made her want to believe him. “Where is she?” she asked instead. Lucien’s expression darkened. “Not here.” Aurora’s heart sank. “Then where?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Aurora took it, her fingers trembling. It was a map, crudely drawn, marked with a single location: a secluded cottage on the edge of the Cotswolds. Aurora’s blood ran cold. “You’re taking her there.” Lucien’s jaw clenched. “She’s safer there.” Aurora’s mind raced. The cottage was far from London, far from the supernatural underworld that Lucien navigated. It was a place she’d never been before, a place she didn’t know anything about. But she knew one thing for certain. She was going to find out what happened to Eva. And she was going to make sure Lucien Moreau didn’t walk away again.