Boots. Measured. Unhurried.
Lucian.
I’d know his stride in the dark, blindfolded, half-dead. He stops outside my cell.
He stands like a carved threat—immaculate suit, lethal eyes, emotion sealed behind ice. Not the man who welcomed me into his bed.
This is the Devil.
“Elias,” he says, voice low. “We need to talk.”
I laugh. A broken sound.
“We’re a little past talking, don’t you think?”
He doesn’t move. Neither do I.
The air between us is cold, and I know whatever comes next will change everything.
He stands there forever, breathing slow, suit rising and falling. He looks devastating like this—composed, furious, fragile beneath it.
“You didn’t tell me about him,” he says finally, low, hurting.
“I told you,” I fire back instantly. “I told you he was someone from my past. He was obsessive. Messy. I left him.”
“You left him,” Lucian says dryly, “and two months later he shows up with a gun. That’s a coincidence?”
“It’s not like that.” My voice bounces around the cell, too loud, too panicked. “Lucian, I didn’t even know he was in the city.”
He presses his palms to the bars, leaning close enough that I can see the fury in him—jealousy scalding under control.
“You met him at the cinema,” he says. “We have the photo. You were laughing.”
“I ran into him,” I say. “I was playing a part. He used to...he used to hurt me, Lucian. I was scared.”
His face softens just a fraction and for a moment I think he will gather me in his arms. But he stays where he is.
“I saw the email you sent him, Elias. Please just be honest with me.”
“What email?” I ask suddenly. “What did you see?”
He hesitates.
“Hartford showed it to me. It came from an address linked to you,” he says finally. “Referenced a meeting with Long. Said: ‘See you at Pearl. I’ll bring what you asked for.’”
My stomach flips.
“I don’t know who sent that.” My voice comes out strangled. “That’s not me. Someone’s framing me. Why would I call Long? Why would I do anything that gets you shot?”
“Because someone wants to destabilize me,” he says. “And using you is efficient.”
The words hit like a slap.
“Lucian,” I say, voice cracking, “I didn’t send that email. I didn’t know Xavier was around. If I had known, I would have told you. I don’t want him near me. I don’t want any of this. Let me prove it.”
He studies me a long time, exhaustion creeping through his eyes.
“For now,” he says quietly, “you stay here.”
