Aurora didn't see him again that day.
But she felt him.
Like an unshakable shadow, lurking just out of reach.
It wasn't suffocating, not yet, but it was there—a presence that made her hyperaware of every step she took, every corner she turned.
Who are you?
The question haunted her, curling around her ribs as she sat in her last lecture, her fingers wrapped around her pen but unmoving.
She wasn't foolish enough to think he was just some stranger passing through the city.
He had been waiting for her that night in the alley.
He had spoken her name.
And yet, he hadn't hurt her. Hadn't tried to grab her or threaten her.
That was what unsettled her the most.
Because men who wanted power, men who wanted to own something, didn't waste time.
But he—whoever he was—was watching.
Waiting.
And she didn't know for what.
---
Lucian waited until she was alone again.
Until the sun had dipped low, casting the streets in deep orange hues, stretching shadows long and jagged against the pavement.
She walked with purpose, back straight, head held high.
But she was listening.
He could tell by the way she adjusted her pace, how her breath hitched ever so slightly when she turned onto an empty street.
She wasn't afraid.
She was aware.
That was what made him move.
Fast. Silent.
By the time she realized he was there, he was already close. Too close.
Aurora froze, her entire body locking up as his voice slid through the cool evening air.
"Still not afraid, little Sinclair?"
Her breath caught.
Him.
That voice—low, rough, familiar in a way that sent a shiver down her spine.
Slowly, she turned.
And there he was.
Tall. Dark. A presence so overwhelming that it pressed against her skin like a physical weight.
His face was unreadable, sharp features carved from something merciless. But it was his eyes that unsettled her the most.
Because they weren't empty.
They were watching. Studying.
Like he was deciding something.
Like he had already decided.
She should have run.
But her body didn't move.
She just lifted her chin, forcing her voice to remain steady. "Should I be?"
His lips curved, something dark glinting in his gaze.
"No," he said, voice soft, deadly. "Not yet."
Aurora's stomach twisted.
The warning in his tone was clear.
Not yet.
Which meant—one day, she would be.
She didn't know what game he was playing.
She didn't know why he was here, why he was watching her, why he knew her name.
But she knew one thing.
This man wasn't just a stranger.
He was here for her.
And whatever he wanted—
He wasn't leaving without it.