Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYB5PM2ZC2RQ3AFHJ6J19KP

The door to Eva’s flat creaked open before Aurora could even reach for the deadbolt, the sound sharp in the quiet of the evening. She froze, her fingers hovering over the brass handle, the scent of rain-slicked pavement and distant exhaust fumes curling through the gap. The air inside was thick with the musk of old books and the faint, citrusy tang of Ptolemy’s fur, the tabby cat’s tail flicking lazily as he watched from his perch on the windowsill. Then the light spilled out. A man stepped inside, his presence filling the narrow hallway like a shadow given form. Tall, impossibly so, his shoulders nearly brushing the low ceiling. His platinum blond hair was slicked back, the way it always was, as if he’d spent hours perfecting the angle of it. But it was his eyes that held her—one amber, one black, gleaming with an intensity that made her breath catch. Lucien Moreau. Aurora’s pulse hammered in her throat. She should have known. Should have *seen* it coming. But the way he stood there, leaning against the doorframe with that infuriating confidence, as if he owned the place, made her stomach twist. “You’re late,” he said, his voice smooth, accented with the ghost of a French lilt. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.” She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “I didn’t change my mind. I just didn’t expect you to show up like this.” Lucien pushed off the doorframe, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as he stepped into the flat. The blade inside the ivory handle gleamed for just a second before he tucked it away, as if he’d done it a thousand times. “I didn’t expect you to be here either,” he admitted, his gaze flicking over the cluttered space—stacks of yellowed papers, half-empty mugs of tea gone cold, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air. “But then, you never did do things by the rules.” Aurora exhaled sharply, her shoulders tensing. “What do you want, Lucien?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his eyes roam over her—her black hair falling just past her shoulders, the way it always did when she was tired, the faint scar on her wrist peeking out from beneath her sleeve. His gaze lingered there, just for a second, before he looked back up at her face. “You look like hell,” he said bluntly. Aurora bristled. “And you look like you haven’t aged a day.” Lucien smirked, but there was no humor in it. “That’s because I haven’t.” She crossed her arms. “So you’re here to gloat?” “No.” His voice dropped, just slightly. “I’m here because I need your help.” The words hung between them, heavy and loaded. Aurora’s chest tightened. She knew that tone. Knew the way he said things—like he was offering her a lifeline, but also like he was daring her to refuse. “What kind of help?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt. Lucien’s expression darkened. “Something that involves a demon from Avaros. One that’s been asking questions about me.” Aurora’s blood ran cold. “You’re in trouble.” “Let’s just say I’ve made some enemies.” She studied him, trying to read the tension in his posture, the way his fingers twitched near the cane. “And you think I can help?” “You’re the only one who can.” The words were a challenge. A dare. And Aurora knew, better than anyone, that Lucien Moreau didn’t do anything without a reason. “Why me?” she asked, her voice quieter now. Lucien stepped closer, the space between them narrowing until she could feel the heat radiating off him. “Because you’re the only one who’s ever seen me without the mask.” Aurora’s breath hitched. She remembered that night—years ago, in a dimly lit bar on the South Bank, when he’d let his guard down just enough to show her the real him. The one who wasn’t polished, who wasn’t careful. The one who had looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. And then he’d kissed her. It had been reckless. Stupid. A mistake they’d both regretted almost immediately. But the memory of it still burned. She swallowed. “That was a long time ago.” “So was the last time we spoke,” Lucien said, his voice low. “And I’d like to think we’ve both changed since then.” Aurora’s fingers twitched. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that this wasn’t just another game, another way for him to manipulate her into doing what he wanted. But she also knew him well enough to know that Lucien Moreau didn’t do anything without a plan. “Fine,” she said, her voice firm. “But I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because I owe you.” Lucien’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t owe me anything.” “Yes, I do.” She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “Because you saved my life that night. And I’m not going to forget that.” His expression softened, just for a second. Then he nodded. “Then let’s get to work.” Aurora exhaled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “First, you tell me everything.” Lucien’s gaze darkened. “Everything.” She nodded. “Then we’ll see.” Ptolemy chose that moment to leap down from the windowsill, landing with a soft thud at Lucien’s feet. The cat rubbed against his leg, purring, as if he recognized him instantly. Lucien crouched, running a hand over the cat’s fur, his expression softening further. Aurora watched them, a strange mix of emotions churning in her chest. Jealousy, maybe. Or something worse—something she refused to name. “You’re still keeping that cat,” Lucien observed, his voice amused. “He’s not just a cat,” Aurora said, her voice sharp. “He’s my friend.” Lucien looked up at her, his amber eye catching the light. “Then I’ll be careful with him.” Aurora studied him, trying to read the sincerity in his gaze. She knew better than to trust it completely. But for now, she’d take it. “Fine,” she said. “But if you hurt him, I’ll hurt you.” Lucien smirked. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Aurora rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Come on, then. Let’s talk.” Lucien straightened, his cane tapping against the floor as he stood. “Lead the way.” Aurora turned, heading toward the small kitchen at the back of the flat. The space was cramped, the countertop cluttered with half-empty mugs and stacks of books. She pulled out a chair for him, gesturing for him to sit. “So,” she said, pouring two cups of tea from the pot on the stove. “Tell me about this demon.” Lucien watched her as she moved around the kitchen, his gaze lingering on the way her black hair fell over her shoulders, the way her fingers moved with purpose. He took the cup of tea she handed him, the steam curling around his face. “His name is Veyne,” he said. “He’s been asking questions about me. About my father. About things that don’t concern him.” Aurora frowned. “Why would a demon from Avaros be interested in you?” Lucien’s expression darkened. “Because my father made a deal with him. A long time ago.” Aurora’s stomach twisted. She knew about Lucien’s father—the demon who had abandoned him, who had left him to fend for himself in the human world. She also knew about the deals that could be made between demons and humans, the promises that were never kept. “What kind of deal?” she asked, her voice careful. Lucien’s gaze was distant, as if he was seeing something she couldn’t. “My father promised him power. A piece of Avaros, if you will. But he never gave it to him.” Aurora’s fingers tightened around her cup. “And now Veyne wants it.” Lucien nodded. “He wants it back. And he’s not going to stop until he gets it.” Aurora exhaled sharply. “So what do you need me for?” Lucien’s gaze locked onto hers. “Because you’re the only one who can get into the archives at the British Museum. The only one who can find the records of the deal my father made.” Aurora’s breath caught. She knew the archives—knew the way they were organized, the way the records were hidden behind layers of bureaucracy and old, yellowed paper. She also knew that getting into them wasn’t easy. “And you think I can do it?” she asked, her voice skeptical. Lucien’s expression was serious. “I think you’re the only one who can.” Aurora studied him, trying to read the truth in his gaze. She knew better than to trust him completely. But she also knew that she couldn’t walk away from this. Not now. “Fine,” she said, her voice firm. “But I’m doing this for me. Not for you.” Lucien’s eyebrows lifted. “And what’s in it for you?” Aurora met his gaze, her expression unyielding. “Answers.” Lucien’s expression softened. “Answers.” Aurora nodded. “Let’s start with the archives.” Lucien stood, his cane tapping against the floor as he moved toward the door. “Then we’ll start with the archives.” Aurora followed him out of the flat, the weight of what was to come pressing down on her shoulders. She knew this was a mistake. Knew that getting involved with Lucien Moreau was never a good idea. But she also knew that she couldn’t walk away from him now. Not when he needed her. Not when she needed him.