AI The front door of Eva’s flat groaned under the weight of someone’s shoulder, the deadbolt clattering back with a metallic *snap *. Aurora Carter—Rory—paused mid-step, her fingers hovering over the kitchen counter where she’d been sorting through a stack of receipts. The scent of roasted garlic and chili clung to the air, sharp and intoxicating, like the last sip of a wine she’d been saving for a night like this. She exhaled slowly, her breath fogging the glass of water she’d left untouched on the counter.
“You’re late.”
The voice was low, rough, the kind that made her pulse quicken even before she turned. Lucien Moreau stood in the doorway, his cane tapping against the floor with deliberate precision, the ivory handle gleaming under the dim light of the flat’s single bulb. His suit was immaculate, tailored to perfection, but his eyes—one amber, one black—held the weariness of a man who’d spent too many nights chasing secrets in the shadows. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything.
Aurora stepped forward, her heels clicking against the linoleum. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“No.” His voice was a rasp, like gravel underfoot. “But I am.”
She reached for the doorframe, her fingers brushing against the scar on her wrist—a small crescent-shaped mark from a childhood accident that had left her with a habit of touching things when she was nervous . She didn’t look away from Lucien’s gaze. “Why?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that made the flat tremble. The cat, Ptolemy, arched his back and hissed from his perch on the windowsill, tail lashing.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Aurora repeated, her voice quieter now, the words barely audible over the hum of the flat’s old fridge. “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Lucien turned, his cane still tapping, and she saw the way his fingers twitched at his sides, as if he were fighting the urge to reach for something hidden beneath his suit. “Eva told me where you lived.”
“She did not.”
“She did.” His voice dropped, colder now . “And she said you’d be here.”
Aurora’s breath hitched. “Eva’s dead.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened. “She’s not.”
The words hung between them, heavy and unspoken . Aurora’s fingers curled around the edge of the counter, her nails digging into the wood. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“No.” Lucien’s gaze flicked to the cat, then back to her. “But I am.”
The flat was small, cramped with books and scrolls, but it was *hers *. The scent of old paper and ink filled the air, mixed with the faint metallic tang of the kitchen sink. She could feel the weight of his presence, the way his shadow stretched long across the floor, the way his eyes burned like embers in the dark.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper .
Lucien didn’t answer. He just moved, his cane clicking against the floor as he crossed the room, his movements precise and deliberate. The cat hissed again, but Aurora didn’t flinch. She didn’t look away.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she repeated, her voice breaking just slightly . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Lucien reached for the door, his fingers brushing against the deadbolt. The flat was locked. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to force it open.
“Eva’s dead,” Aurora said, her voice steady now, her breath coming faster . “She’s not supposed to be here.”
Lucien’s gaze locked onto hers , his eyes dark and unreadable . “She’s not.”
The flat was quiet, too quiet. The only sound was the faint *tick-tock * of a clock somewhere in the distance, the way time seemed to slow down when you were waiting for something to happen. Aurora’s fingers tightened around the edge of the counter, her nails digging into the wood.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered.
Lucien didn’t answer. He just stood there, his cane tapping against the floor, his eyes burning like embers in the dark.
Aurora stepped back, her heels clicking against the linoleum. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Lucien reached for the door again, his fingers brushing against the deadbolt. The flat was locked. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to force it open.
“Eva’s dead,” Aurora said, her voice breaking just slightly . “She’s not supposed to be here.”
Lucien’s gaze locked onto hers , his eyes dark and unreadable . “She’s not.”
The flat was silent. The only sound was the faint *tick-tock * of the clock, the way time seemed to stop when you were waiting for something to happen. Aurora’s fingers curled around the edge of the counter, her nails digging into the wood.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered.
Lucien didn’t answer. He just stood there, his cane tapping against the floor, his eyes burning like embers in the dark.
Aurora took a step back, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The flat was too small, too tight, too full of secrets and unspoken words. She could feel the weight of Lucien’s gaze, the way his eyes burned like embers in the dark.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she repeated, her voice barely audible over the hum of the flat’s old fridge. “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Lucien reached for the door once more, his fingers brushing against the deadbolt. The flat was locked. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to force it open.
Aurora’s heart pounded in her chest , her breath coming in ragged gasps. The flat was too small, too tight, too full of things she didn’t understand. She could feel the weight of Lucien’s presence, the way his shadow stretched long across the floor, the way his eyes burned like embers in the dark.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered, her voice breaking just slightly . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Lucien didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just stood there, his cane tapping against the floor, his eyes burning like embers in the dark.
Aurora closed her eyes, her fingers still curled around the edge of the counter. The flat was too small, too tight, too full of things she didn’t understand. She could feel the weight of Lucien’s gaze, the way his eyes burned like embers in the dark.
“Eva’s dead,” she said, her voice barely a whisper . “She’s not supposed to be here.”
Lucien’s gaze locked onto hers , his eyes dark and unreadable . “She’s not.”
The flat was silent. The only sound was the faint *tick-tock * of the clock, the way time seemed to stop when you were waiting for something to happen. Aurora’s breath hitched, her fingers still curled around the edge of the counter.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Lucien didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just stood there, his cane tapping against the floor, his eyes burning like embers in the dark.
Aurora’s heart raced , her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The flat was too small, too tight, too full of secrets and unspoken words. She could feel the weight of Lucien’s presence, the way his shadow stretched long across the floor, the way his eyes burned like embers in the dark.
“Eva’s dead,” she said, her voice barely a whisper , her fingers digging into the wood. “She’s not supposed to be here.”
Lucien’s gaze never wavered . “She’s not.”
The flat was locked. The door stood between them, a barrier that felt heavier than any bolt. Aurora’s breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers still curled around the counter, her nails digging into the wood.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the silence . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Lucien didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. He just stood there, his cane tapping against the floor, his eyes burning like embers in the dark.
Aurora’s chest tightened, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The flat was too small, too tight, too full of things she didn’t understand. She could feel the weight of Lucien’s gaze, the way his eyes burned like embers in the dark.
The door creaked open.
Aurora’s breath caught in her throat. Lucien stepped back, his cane still tapping against the floor, his eyes burning like embers in the dark.
“Eva’s dead,” she said, her voice barely a whisper . “She’s not supposed to be here.”
Lucien didn’t answer. He just stood there, his cane tapping against the floor, his eyes burning like embers in the dark.
Aurora’s fingers curled around the edge of the counter, her nails digging into the wood. The flat was too small, too tight, too full of secrets and unspoken words.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered, her voice trembling . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Lucien’s gaze locked onto hers , his eyes dark and unreadable . The door stood between them, a barrier that felt like a wall of steel .
Aurora’s breath came in quick, shallow bursts. The flat was too small, too full of things she didn’t understand. She could feel the weight of Lucien’s presence, the way his shadow stretched long across the floor, the way his eyes burned like embers in the dark.
“Eva’s dead,” she said, her voice barely a whisper . “She’s not supposed to be here.”
Lucien didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just stood there, his cane tapping against the floor, his eyes burning like embers in the dark.
Aurora’s heart pounded in her chest , her fingers digging into the wood. The flat was too small, too tight, too full of secrets and unspoken words.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, her voice barely a whisper . The door stood between them, a barrier that felt like a wall of steel .
Lucien’s gaze never wavered . “She’s not.”
The flat was silent. The only sound was the faint *tick-tock * of the clock, the way time seemed to stop .
Aurora’s breath hitched, her fingers still curled around the counter. The flat was too small, too full of things she didn’t understand.
“Eva’s dead,” she whispered, her voice trembling . “She’s not supposed to be here.”
Lucien’s eyes darkened further, the black pupil swallowing the amber like a shadow swallowing light. The cane paused mid-step, the ivory handle glinting in the dim light.
Aurora’s pulse roared in her ears. The deadbolt clicked back, the door swinging inward with a groan. Lucien stepped through, his presence filling the flat like a storm gathering.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, her voice barely a breath .
Lucien’s gaze flicked to the cat, then back to her, his voice a low growl. “Eva’s not dead.”
The flat trembled with the weight of his words , the air thick with the scent of garlic and something darker, something ancient. Aurora’s fingers tightened around the counter, her nails leaving faint marks in the wood.
“She’s not,” Lucien repeated, his voice rough . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Aurora’s breath came in sharp, uneven bursts. The flat was too small, too tight, too full of secrets she’d never spoken aloud.
Lucien’s cane tapped against the floor, the sound steady, relentless. “Eva’s not dead.”
Aurora’s eyes burned, her vision blurring. The flat was too small, too full of things she didn’t understand.
“She’s not,” Lucien said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
The door slammed shut behind him, the deadbolt clicking home with a finality that made Aurora’s chest tighten. The flat was silent again, but the air was charged , thick with tension and something else—something older, something that had been waiting in the shadows.
Aurora’s breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers still curled around the counter. The flat was too small, too full of secrets she’d never spoken aloud.
Lucien’s gaze locked onto hers , his eyes burning like embers in the dark. “Eva’s not dead.”
Aurora’s voice was a whisper , barely audible over the silence . “Then why are you here?”
Lucien didn’t answer. He just stood there, his cane tapping against the floor, his eyes burning like embers in the dark.
Aurora’s heart pounded in her chest , her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The flat was too small, too full of things she didn’t understand.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, her voice trembling . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Lucien’s gaze never wavered . “Eva’s not dead.”
Aurora’s fingers dug into the wood, her nails leaving faint marks. The flat was too small, too tight, too full of secrets she’d never spoken aloud.
“She’s not,” Lucien said, his voice low and dangerous . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
The cat hissed from the windowsill, his tail lashing against the glass. Aurora’s breath came in quick, shallow bursts, her vision blurring.
Lucien’s cane paused mid-step, the ivory handle glinting in the dim light. “Eva’s not dead.”
Aurora’s voice was a whisper , barely audible. “Then what do you want?”
Lucien’s gaze locked onto hers , his eyes burning like embers in the dark. The flat trembled with the weight of his presence, the air thick with secrets she didn’t understand.
“You,” he said, his voice rough . “I want you.”
Aurora’s breath hitched, her fingers still curled around the counter. The flat was too small, too full of things she’d never spoken aloud.
Lucien’s cane tapped against the floor, the sound steady, relentless. “Eva’s not dead.”
Aurora’s eyes burned, her vision blurring. “Then why are you here?”
Lucien’s gaze darkened further, the black pupil swallowing the amber like a storm swallowing the sky. “Because she’s not dead.”
Aurora’s voice was a whisper , barely audible over the silence . “And what about me?”
Lucien’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I want you.”
The flat trembled with the weight of his words , the air thick with secrets she didn’t understand. Aurora’s fingers dug into the wood, her nails leaving faint marks.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered, her voice trembling . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Lucien’s cane tapped against the floor, the sound steady, relentless. “Eva’s not dead.”
Aurora’s breath came in sharp, uneven bursts. The flat was too small, too full of things she’d never spoken aloud.
“She’s not,” Lucien said, his voice low and dangerous . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
The cat hissed from the windowsill, his tail lashing against the glass. Aurora’s vision blurred, her heart pounding in her chest.
Lucien’s gaze locked onto hers , his eyes burning like embers in the dark. “I want you.”
Aurora’s fingers tightened around the counter, her nails digging into the wood. The flat was too small, too full of secrets she’d never spoken aloud.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, her voice barely a whisper . “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Lucien’s cane paused, the ivory handle glinting . “Eva’s not dead.”
Aurora’s breath came in quick, shallow gasps. The flat was too small, too full of things she didn’t understand.
“Then what do you want?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
Lucien’s gaze darkened, his voice a low growl. “You.”
Aurora’s heart raced , her fingers still digging into the wood. The flat trembled with the weight of his presence.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered, the words barely more than a breath .
Lucien’s cane tapped against the floor, the sound steady, relentless. “Eva’s not dead.”
Aurora’s vision blurred, her breath coming in ragged bursts. The flat was too small, too full of secrets she’d never spoken aloud.
“And you,” Lucien said, his voice rough, “I want you.”