AURORA
The uneasy feeling didn't fade.
Even after leaving the café, even after parting ways with Madeline, Aurora couldn't shake the weight pressing against her ribs.
It wasn't paranoia.
She knew what that felt like—the constant fear of her father's gaze, the suffocating awareness of her mother's silence. That was a familiar kind of terror.
This?
This was different.
A shadow that wasn't supposed to be there.
A presence that lingered too long.
The cold touch of metal in her pocket.
Her key.
She still didn't know how he got it.
Didn't know why he gave it back.
Didn't know what he wanted.
But she knew one thing.
It wasn't over.
It was never over.
---
She arrived home to an empty house.
A rare occurrence.
No father waiting in the study with his cold, assessing stare.
No mother perched on the couch with a wine glass and vacant eyes.
Just silence.
But silence in the Sinclair house was never peaceful.
It was foreboding.
Aurora hesitated in the doorway, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.
Something was wrong.
She could feel it.
She stepped inside, her pulse steady but ready.
Every instinct screamed at her to turn back.
To leave.
But she had nowhere to go.
No one to turn to.
So she moved forward, one step at a time, until she reached the staircase.
The house smelled like nothing.
No lingering cologne. No perfume.
No scent of the whiskey her father always drank after a meeting.
No freshly cut flowers placed meticulously by the staff.
Just emptiness.
Her chest tightened.
She climbed the stairs carefully, her breath shallow.
The hallway stretched long and quiet as she reached her bedroom.
She pushed the door open.
And stopped breathing.
---
LUCIAN
He shouldn't be here.
Not yet.
Not like this.
But patience had never been his strong suit.
Lucian leaned against the far wall of her bedroom, arms crossed, waiting.
Watching.
Aurora froze in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat.
She didn't scream.
Didn't run.
But her fingers twitched against her bag strap, her body wound tight like a trapped animal.
Good.
Fear kept people alive.
Lucian tilted his head, taking her in.
She was still wearing the same clothes from earlier—black jeans, a fitted sweater, boots that were more practical than fashionable.
But now, she looked different.
Tense.
On edge.
Like prey sensing a predator.
"Didn't expect company, sweetheart?" His voice was smooth, unhurried.
Her throat worked as she swallowed. "How did you get in?"
Lucian smirked, slipping his hand into his pocket.
Her key.
Her eyes flickered to it, then back to him.
Her fingers curled into fists.
Good girl.
She was afraid, but she was trying to hide it.
That only made him want to push.
Test her limits.
Break them.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, voice steadier than he expected.
Lucian took a slow step forward.
Aurora didn't move, but he saw the way her pulse fluttered at her throat.
"Says who?"
"My father—"
"Your father isn't here."
Her breath hitched.
His smirk deepened.
He took another step, deliberately slow, letting the silence stretch between them.
Aurora's chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, but she held her ground.
A fighter.
His eyes darkened.
"I don't like repeating myself," she said, voice sharper now. "Leave."
Lucian chuckled.
"You think I came all this way just to walk out when you tell me to?"
Her jaw clenched.
She was braver than most.
It would be fun to break her.
Slowly.
Methodically.
She was his now.
Even if she didn't know it yet.
Lucian lifted the key between his fingers, letting the overhead light catch on the metal.
"Thought I'd return this," he murmured.
She didn't take it.
Didn't reach for it.
Smart girl.
He stepped forward again, closing the space between them, close enough to catch the faint scent of vanilla and something sweet on her skin.
Close enough to hear the sharp intake of her breath.
Close enough to see the battle waging in her eyes—fear and defiance, warring against something darker.
Something she didn't want to name.
Lucian smirked.
He had all the time in the world to make her say it.
To make her beg.
"You should lock your doors better, sweetheart," he murmured, brushing the key against her palm. "Never know who might let themselves in."
Aurora's fingers curled around the key, but she didn't back away.
"Are you done?" she asked, voice ice cold.
Lucian's smirk widened.
For now.
He stepped past her, letting the warmth of his body graze against hers as he moved toward the door.
She didn't flinch.
Didn't react.
But her breath caught—just for a second.
And that was enough.
Lucian paused in the doorway, glancing back.
"You'll be seeing me again, Aurora."
Her lips parted slightly, her knuckles white around the key.
A challenge.
A warning.
But not a no.
Not a don't come back.
Lucian's gaze darkened.
He'd see her again.
Sooner than she thought.