Run: 2026-05-22-01KS86NWQ695VRJKMK8XW28AM0

Rory slid the third deadbolt back. The heavy wooden door swung inward, revealing the dim hallway. Lucien stood on the welcome mat. His charcoal suit absorbed the weak light from the stairwell. Platinum blond hair swept back from his forehead. The amber and black eyes locked onto her bright blue ones. Rory squeezed the brass handle. Her knuckles turned white. "You have three seconds to explain why you are at Eva's door, Lucien." "May I come in, Rory?" He leaned his weight onto the ivory handle of his cane. "No." "The curry house downstairs is venting garlic and cumin into the corridor. I would prefer not to smell like a vindaloo." Rory stepped back and pulled the door wider. He stepped over the threshold. The cramped flat offered little space. Stacks of books and loose parchment scrolls covered the dining table and spilled onto the sofa. Ptolemy, the tabby cat, sat atop a pile of research notes. The tabby puffed its tail and hissed at the half-demon. Lucien tapped his cane against the floorboards. "Your friend's pet possesses excellent instincts." "He smells the brimstone on you." Rory shut the door and threw the deadbolts back into place. One. Two. Three. "Speak. Why are you here?" "I brought you something." Lucien reached into his inner jacket pocket. Rory flinched. Her left hand flew up, the small crescent scar on her wrist catching the overhead light. Lucien froze. He withdrew his hand, pinching a thick manila envelope between his index and middle finger. "It is paper, Rory. Not a weapon." "You lied to me the last time we stood in a room together." "I omitted a detail regarding my father's realm." "You omitted that you were a fixer for the very demons I was running from." Lucien placed the envelope on a clear patch of the kitchen counter. "Evan was a human abuser. My clients operate under strict underworld contracts. They do not care about a Pre-Law dropout from Cardiff." "I don't care about your semantics." "You care about the contents of that envelope." Rory stared at the manila folder. The curry house ventilation system rattled beneath the floorboards, sending a faint vibration through her shoes. "Open it." Lucien unbuttoned his suit jacket and lowered himself onto the single wooden chair at the desk. The joints creaked under his frame. Rory walked to the counter. She flipped the envelope open. Glossy photographs spilled out. Evan. Her ex-boyfriend. He sat in a pub, laughing with a man bearing a distinct Avaros realm tattoo on his neck. "He found you." Lucien kept his voice flat, his mismatched eyes tracking her every micro-expression. "Or rather, he found your father's barrister firm in Cardiff and asked the wrong questions. The demons he approached for a tracking spell work for me." Rory swept the photos back into the envelope. Her chest tightened. The air in the flat grew thick. "I handled it." "Handled it how?" "They gave him false coordinates. He is currently searching for you in a very damp basement in Belfast." "You played with him." "I protected you." "I didn't ask for your protection." Rory threw the envelope onto the counter. "I asked for honesty. Six months ago, you stood in my kitchen, drank my cheap tea, and let me believe you were just an import-export consultant." "My profession is complicated." "Your profession is dangerous." Lucien stood up. The chair scraped against the linoleum. He closed the distance between them, stopping a foot away. The scent of sandalwood and ozone overpowered the lingering garlic from the hallway. "Danger is a matter of perspective." He looked down at her. "You fled a man who bruised your skin and broke your confidence. I deal with creatures who break souls. Yet you look at me as if I am the monster." Rory held her ground. She tilted her chin up. "You used my trauma to get close to me. You needed a human anchor in London, and I was vulnerable." "I needed an anchor." Lucien raised a gloved hand. He stopped an inch from her cheek. The leather creaked. "I stayed because you challenged me. You possess a brilliant mind, Rory. You see through the glamour and the lies." "I saw through yours too late." "Did you?" His hand dropped to his side. "You pushed me away the moment you discovered my lineage. You packed your bags, moved into Eva's fortress of deadbolts, and blocked my number." "I needed space to breathe without looking over my shoulder." "You needed to punish me for my bloodline." Ptolemy jumped off the desk and darted into the bedroom. The silence in the flat stretched, filled only by the hum of the refrigerator. Rory crossed her arms. The crescent scar on her wrist pressed against her elbow. "Why come back now? If Evan is in Belfast, the threat is gone. You could have mailed the photos." "The threat is never gone." Lucien turned his gaze to the window, where the neon sign of the curry house blinked red through the glass. "Evan is a symptom. The Avaros factions are expanding their reach into East London. They are looking for half-breeds who refuse to pay the blood tithe." "You." "Me." He faced her again. "They know I have a weakness. They know I spent three months sleeping in your bed." Rory's breath hitched. The memory of his skin against hers, the heat of his demonic side, flooded her senses. She clenched her jaw. "I am not your weakness, Lucien." "You are my only vulnerability." He stepped closer. His amber eye flared with a faint, inner light. "If they take you, I will burn this city to ash to get you back." "Stop." Rory held up a hand. "No grand declarations. No underworld theatrics. We are not doing this." "We are doing this because they are already watching the flat." Rory dropped her hand. She glanced at the window. The blinds were drawn, but a sliver of neon light cut through the gap. "How many?" "Two on the roof. Three in the alley." "And you walked right through the front door." "I wanted them to see me enter." Lucien gripped the ivory handle of his cane. The hidden blade clicked, extending an inch from the tip. "I want them to know exactly who they are stealing from." Rory walked to the kitchen drawer. She pulled out a heavy iron cleaver she used for chopping bones at the Golden Empress. The metal gleamed under the fluorescent bulb. "I am not a damsel, Lucien." "I know." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "That is why I brought the back door key." He tossed a brass key onto the counter. It clattered against the manila envelope. "The alley is a choke point." Rory evaluated the layout in her head. "If they breach the fire escape, we trap them in the stairwell." "I will take the roof." Lucien adjusted his cuffs. "You secure the perimeter." "We do this together." Rory gripped the cleaver. Her bright blue eyes locked onto his mismatched ones. "No more secrets. No more running off to play the martyr." Lucien nodded. The amber and black eyes softened for a fraction of a second. "Together."