Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAAYYHH34D15GATYKFE4X7

The brass knocker scraped against the door of Eva’s flat like a fingernail on glass, the sound sharp enough to cut through the hum of the city outside. Aurora Carter—Rory, to those who knew her well—hadn’t expected anyone. Not after what happened. Not after the way things ended. She stood in the narrow hallway, her fingers curled around the doorknob, her bright blue eyes flicking over the cluttered shelves of books and scrolls lining the walls. The flat smelled of old paper and something faintly metallic, like the air after a storm. The deadbolts were engaged, the lock clicked into place with a finality that made her stomach twist. She exhaled through her nose, the breath steady, controlled. *He’s not here.* But the knock came again, louder this time, the rhythm deliberate. *Knock knock.* Aurora’s pulse jumped. She hadn’t heard from Lucien Moreau in months. Not since the night he’d left without a word, without an explanation. She’d thought he’d moved on. That he’d found someone else. That he’d forgotten her entirely. The door creaked open before she could turn the knob. The light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating the way his dark hair fell over his forehead, the way his amber and black eyes locked onto hers with something unreadable. Lucien stood there, his tailored charcoal suit immaculate, his cane resting against his thigh, the ivory handle gleaming under the dim glow of the streetlamps outside. “Aurora,” he said, his voice low, smooth. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She didn’t move. Didn’t reach for the door. “You didn’t expect to see me either.” A beat of silence. The kind that hung between them like a half-remembered dream. The kind that made her fingers twitch toward the scar on her wrist, the small crescent-shaped mark from a childhood accident, a reminder of the past she’d tried to bury. Lucien stepped inside, his presence filling the cramped space like a shadow. “You look… different.” Aurora turned her head slightly, her gaze sweeping over the flat. The bookshelves were still packed with tomes, the desk cluttered with notes and half-finished sketches. It was the same as always. “You look the same.” He smirked, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I’ve been told that before.” She didn’t laugh. Didn’t smile back. Instead, she crossed her arms, her bright blue eyes narrowing. “What do you want, Lucien?” His expression darkened. “I want to know why you’re here.” “Because I’m not the only one who’s been waiting.” The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken things. The way he’d left her. The way she’d let him. The way neither of them had been ready to face the truth. Lucien exhaled sharply, his cane tapping against the floor as he moved closer. “You know why I’m here.” Aurora didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The unspoken question hung in the air, thick and suffocating. “Eva,” he said, his voice a low growl. “She’s dead.” Aurora’s breath caught. Eva. Her childhood friend. The woman who’d pulled her out of Cardiff, who’d given her a place to stay, who’d been there when it all went wrong. Eva, who’d been the only one who’d believed in her. “Lucien,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “No.” He nodded, his expression grim. “She was found in the Thames. Her body was washed up near Tower Bridge. The police are still investigating, but they’ve ruled out natural causes. Someone killed her.” Aurora’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Who?” Lucien’s gaze was steady, unyielding. “I don’t know. But I think you do.” She turned away, her back to him, her mind racing. Eva. The flat. The books. The things she’d been working on. The things she’d been hiding. “Aurora,” Lucien said, his voice gentle. “Talk to me.” She didn’t look at him. “I can’t.” “You can’t because you’re afraid,” he said, his voice firm. “Or because you’re too stubborn to admit what you know.” Aurora’s shoulders shook. She wanted to scream. To run. To do anything but stand there, her bright blue eyes fixed on the floor, her mind racing with a thousand questions and a single, burning truth. “Lucien,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry.” He reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. “For what?” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “For everything.” Lucien’s expression softened. “You don’t have to apologize for everything.” Aurora pulled her hand away, her eyes darting around the room. “I don’t know what to do.” Lucien stepped closer, his voice low. “We’ll figure it out together.” Aurora turned to him, her bright blue eyes locked onto his. “You always do.” He smiled, the faintest hint of a smile that made her heart skip a beat. “I try.” The door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing through the flat, sealing them in a moment of silence that was both heavy and light. Aurora stood there, her mind racing, her heart pounding. Lucien was back. And this time, she wasn’t running. She just had to figure out what to do with him.