"Lucian..."
Eris whispers as she sits down on the couch after seeing Lyra and Edric off.
She feels so drained. And memories of Lucian flood her mind now that she's alone once again.
Memories of them, of how everything started...
****
The AI city was a marvel of modern civilization—gleaming towers kissed by the sky, streets lined with neon veins pulsing with life, and an omnipresent security system promising safety, order, and efficiency. It was a place where crime was a near impossibility, where the all-seeing eyes of the city's artificial sentinels ensured that no transgression went unnoticed.
Or so they claimed.
Eris Lorne had long been aware that absolute security was an illusion. After all, if you had enough power, enough influence, and enough money, there were always ways to bend the system to your will. She had made enemies—powerful ones. Rivals in her industry who had watched her rise with gritted teeth, who saw her as an obstacle rather than a peer. Individually, they might not have been able to touch her, but together?
They had found a way.
The evening of her abduction began like any other. Eris had just finished a high-profile meeting, one that had left her exhausted yet satisfied. Progress had been made. Her work was gaining traction. The very future she had envisioned was on the horizon, just within reach.
Her security detail was minimal that night. A mistake.
She had argued for autonomy, for freedom from the overbearing presence of guards shadowing her every step. The AI city's reputation for safety had made her complacent, making her believe that within these walls, she was untouchable.
Just for today, I need to feel as Eris and not Norn the famous virtual actress nor Ms. Lorne who makes incredible inventions... I just want to be me. Besides, it's only a quick drive from her to the apartment.
Eris mussed as she walked looking at the familiar street.
She was wrong.
As she stepped onto the transit platform, waiting for her private pod to arrive, something felt…off. The station was nearly empty, which was unusual. The air had a static quality to it as if something unseen was pressing down on the world around her.
She glanced up at the surveillance nodes embedded in the station's infrastructure. The AI security network was always watching, always monitoring. Yet, at that moment, a flicker of doubt crept into her mind.
Her instincts told her to leave. Now.
But before she could act, the pod arrived.
The doors slid open with a whisper, inside stood two men in sleek, civilian attire—both unfamiliar.
A mistake in the system? No, impossible. The city doesn't make mistakes.
The taller man offered a polite nod. "Miss Lorne, your escort has been reassigned. There's been a security update regarding your usual route."
Her fingers twitched. The excuse was too clean, too well-rehearsed.
She turned to leave—
—only for a third figure to appear behind her, his presence materializing as if from thin air.
The prick of something sharp against her skin sent a shock through her nerves. A micro-injector, fast-acting. Paralytic.
A voice, soft yet deadly, whispered in her ear.
"Don't struggle."
Her breath hitched.
The AI security feeds should have triggered an alarm by now. Yet the city remained silent. No alerts. No response.
They hacked the system.
Her vision blurred as the drug spread through her bloodstream, turning her limbs to lead. Hands caught her as she collapsed, dragging her into the waiting pod.
The doors slid shut.
And the city—so proud of its unbreakable security, its perfect order—let her disappear without a trace.
The pod moved seamlessly through the AI city's underground transit network, following an unauthorized route that had been meticulously planned to avoid detection. The entire city was an interconnected web of surveillance—cameras embedded in every corner, AI monitors scanning for anomalies, security drones patrolling the skies—but none of them reacted to Eris Lorne's abduction.
Because the system had already been compromised.
Her captors were professionals, the kind who understood that brute force was not the way to bypass AI security. Instead, they had infiltrated the system from the inside, using corrupted data packets to rewrite her clearance logs. As far as the city was concerned, Eris Lorne was still safe, following her usual routine.
The pod moved toward one of the industrial zones where shipments left the city under strict security screening. But tonight, there would be a special shipment—a container labeled as high-priority biotech materials, one that had been carefully modified to house a living passenger.
Eris was that passenger.
As the pod docked into the facility, the two men from before hoisted her half-limp body out, carrying her with calculated efficiency. The paralytic hadn't completely rendered her unconscious, but her body was slow, sluggish, and uncooperative.
They placed her inside a temperature-regulated cargo container and locked it from the outside. The metal walls pressed in around her, a confined prison disguised as a routine shipment. Within minutes, the container was transported onto a freight shuttle bound for the outskirts of the city.
She was being smuggled out.
But Eris Lorne was not a helpless victim.
The moment the paralytic took effect, her emergency bracelet had already begun analyzing her vitals. Designed by none other than her, and produced by one of the most advanced biotech firms she's working with, it was more than just a status monitor—it was a personal first-aid system in miniature form.
The bracelet detected the abnormality in her bloodstream, categorized it, and automatically released a counter-agent. The process was slow, subtle enough that her captors wouldn't immediately notice, but Eris felt the slight tingling in her fingers, the slow return of sensation in her limbs.
She stayed still.
Waited.
As the cargo shuttle moved past the AI city's last line of security, Eris made her move.
Her fingers twitched, then curled into a fist. Her breath, once shallow, grew steady.
Then—she forced herself up.
The crate was not built to hold someone actively resisting. With a well-placed kick, she struck the weaker hinge near the lock. A second kick dented it further.
She was running out of time.
A third kick finally sent the hatch bursting open. The cold wind of the outside world rushed in, but Eris didn't stop to breathe. She scrambled out of the container, her eyes scanning her surroundings.
She was inside a freight shuttle, high above the darkened outskirts of the city. She could see the wastelands beyond, the lawless zones that spurn any AI interference.
Eris darted toward the emergency hatch.
The moment she pulled the lever, alarms blared—her captors had noticed.
She had seconds.
The hatch blew open, revealing nothing but the night sky below. Without hesitation, Eris threw herself out, free-falling into the darkness.
She had no parachute.
But she had calculated the distance—there were automated freight haulers moving beneath her. She twisted mid-air, aimed for one of them, and braced for impact.
She hit hard, rolling onto the top of a speeding transport truck. Pain flared through her limbs, but she forced herself up and immediately searched for a way down.
She was free.
Or so she thought.
Eris hadn't accounted for the chaos of the wastelands.
She barely had time to climb off the transport before she was spotted. A different group—rough, unrefined, nothing like her previous captors—caught sight of her staggering off the truck. Their leader, a grizzled man with a scarred face, immediately recognized the quality of her attire, the subtle markings of someone from the AI city.
To them, she was valuable.
Before she could fight back, hands grabbed her, dragging her away from the road and into the depths of the lawless territories.
Eris Lorne had escaped one nightmare… only to fall into another.
The city pulsed with artificial lights, neon signs casting fractured reflections on rain-slick pavement. The night was alive with the hum of distant sirens and the murmurs of unseen figures lurking in alleyways. It was a world built on shadows—shadows Lucian Rourke knew all too well.
He moved through the labyrinth of the lower district like a ghost, keeping to the edges where cameras flickered unreliably and patrols were infrequent. He had been running for weeks, hunted by the very family that once called him their own. The mafia didn't take kindly to defectors, least of all one who knew their secrets, their weaknesses.
And yet, despite the weight of survival pressing on his shoulders, Lucian had stopped.
The scream had reached him first—sharp, choked with fear.
Then the muffled struggles, the harsh slap of flesh against flesh, and a man's voice muttering something low and threatening.
Lucian could have ignored it. He should have ignored it. But his feet were already moving before he made the decision.
He slipped through the dark like a specter, weaving past rusted scaffolding and broken crates toward the source of the commotion. His fingers curled around the hilt of his knife as he peered around the corner.
Sh*t, if only I have my gun then snipping them would've been easy peasy.
Lucian thought as he closed in stealthily.
A van sat idling in the alley, its side door wide open, revealing a dim interior where a young woman was being shoved inside.
Her wrists were bound, her face pale under the streetlight's glow. A gag had been stuffed between her lips, but her eyes—stormy and sharp despite her terror—darted around, searching for a way out. She didn't cower, didn't plead. She struggled, kicking wildly even as one of the men grabbed her by the hair and yanked her backward.
Lucian's expression darkened.
Three men. Armed, but not alert. They thought they were alone. They thought no one would interfere.
They were wrong.
He moved.
The first man barely had time to register the presence before a blade slid between his ribs, sharp and precise. Lucian yanked it free before the body could hit the ground, already pivoting toward the second target.
A gun swung toward him—too slow. Lucian caught the man's wrist, twisting sharply until bones snapped. A strangled cry left the thug's lips before Elias drove the hilt of his knife against his temple, sending him crumpling to the pavement.
The third man reacted faster, pulling the girl in front of him like a shield, pressing the barrel of his pistol to her temple.
"Step back!" the kidnapper barked.
Lucian met the young woman's gaze—calm, calculating despite the situation.
She wasn't screaming.
She was waiting.
Trusting him.
Without hesitation, Lucian dropped his knife and raised his hands.
"Alright," he said smoothly. "Let's not do anything stupid."
The kidnapper's breathing was ragged, his grip unsteady. He hadn't expected this. Hadn't expected a lone man to take down two of his partners in seconds.
That hesitation was all Elias needed.
His fingers twitched—a silent signal.
The young woman caught on instantly.
She moved.
Twisting her head, she bit down hard on the man's hand, forcing his grip to loosen. She dropped to the ground the moment the gun shifted away from her skull—just as Lucian lunged forward.
A brutal strike to the throat sent the kidnapper stumbling, choking. Lucian wrenched the gun from his grasp and, with a single fluid motion, slammed the handle against the side of his head. The thug hit the ground, unconscious.
Silence settled over the alley, punctuated only by the heavy breaths of the woman still kneeling on the pavement.
Lucian crouched in front of her, cutting the bindings from her wrists.
"You're lucky," he muttered.
Her lips parted slightly, as if she had something to say, but then she hesitated, glancing at the fallen bodies.
"You—" she stopped, eyes narrowing. "You're not with them."
Lucian smirked dryly. "No. And I assume you're not someone who usually gets kidnapped in back alleys?"
She scowled. "Obviously."
He offered her a hand. She eyed it warily before grasping it and pulling herself to her feet.
Lucian studied her briefly. She was dressed well—high-end, but practical. Not just some random civilian. Someone important. Someone with a target on her back.
"You got a name?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"...Eris."
He nodded. "Lucian."
A siren wailed in the distance. It was time to leave.
"Come on, Eris," Lucian said, already turning away. "Unless you'd rather explain this mess to the authorities."
She exhaled sharply, brushing dust from her sleeves. Then, without another word, she followed him into the shadows.
The hideout was a run-down apartment in a part of the city where no one asked questions. It was small, barely furnished, but the walls were thick, and the windows were positioned just right to avoid prying eyes. Lucian had chosen it for that very reason—it was a place to lay low, to breathe without feeling a gun barrel pressed to his back.
But now, he wasn't alone.
Eris Lorne sat across from him at the flimsy metal table, her arms crossed, fingers tapping impatiently against her elbow. The single dim bulb hanging above them cast flickering shadows on her face—sharp, intelligent, and tired.
"So," Lucian leaned back in his chair, regarding her with a neutral expression. "You going to explain what a girl like you is doing tied up in the back of a van, or should I just assume you made some very bad friends?"
Eris exhaled slowly, her gaze shifting away for a moment before settling on him with quiet resolve.
"I was smuggled out of the city I live in."
Lucian raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
"I'm guessing this city—wherever we are—is miles away from home," she said. "I was unconscious when they took me, so I don't know how far exactly, but it's definitely not the same place."
Lucian let out a low hum, considering. The way she spoke, the way she carried herself—it was clear she wasn't just some lost civilian.
"You must be important," he remarked.
Eris frowned but didn't deny it. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her voice steady despite the frustration in her eyes.
"I need your help," she said. "You seem… capable. And you don't look like you have anything better to do."
Lucian smirked at that. "Flattering."
She ignored him. "I need to get back. I need to know why they smuggled me out. Who ordered it. What they were planning to do to me. If I try to find my way back alone, I'll either get caught or worse. But you—" she studied him for a moment as if assessing a weapon before deciding if it was worth using, "—you can handle yourself. And you don't seem like the type to turn down an opportunity if it benefits you."
Lucian drummed his fingers against the table, his expression unreadable.
She wasn't wrong.
He had been running from the mafia for weeks. With the family's influence reaching into every major city, it was only a matter of time before someone recognized him, and the bounty on his head ensured that no one would hesitate to take a shot at him.
But a secure city—one that could shield someone like her—that meant resources, protection. Maybe even a way to disappear for good.
Taking Eris home could be his ticket to survival.
Indifference settled over him like armor, masking the calculations running through his mind.
"Fine," Lucian said with a casual shrug. "I'll help you get back. But don't expect me to throw myself in front of bullets for you."
Eris exhaled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "I wouldn't ask you to."
He stood, stretching slightly before grabbing his coat. "Then we've got a deal. But first—" he glanced toward the boarded-up window, thinking of the city outside, the dangers that lurked in both their paths. "—we need a plan."
They couldn't return to the AI cities—not yet. Whoever had arranged her abduction would be waiting, watching, ready to strike again.
So Lucian did the only thing he could.
He took her with him.
They traveled deep into the outskirts, where war-torn lands met abandoned ruins. Places where people barely lived, where AI surveillance was thin, where the forgotten remnants of humanity struggled to exist.
At first, Eris felt like a burden. She was used to the comfort of controlled environments, to the safety of a world carefully designed to protect people like her. But here, survival was not a guarantee—it was a constant battle.
She learned to adapt.
Lucian taught her. How to stay hidden. How to read the land. How to move without being seen.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.
They built a life in the shadows, moving between shelters, scavenging what they could. Lucian never complained. He never made her feel weak. Instead, he taught her how to stand on her own.
And slowly, quietly, she found herself drawn to him.
It wasn't just that he had saved her. It wasn't just that he protected her.
It was the way he carried himself—his quiet resilience, his unwavering determination. He had come from the war zones, yet he never let the darkness consume him. He fought not for power, not for revenge, but because he believed in something greater.
She found herself watching him when he wasn't looking. Noticing the way his hands moved as he tended to their gear. The way his eyes softened, just slightly, when he reassured her.
She wanted to tell him.
But every time she opened her mouth, the words stuck in her throat.
She was Eris Lorne, the celebrated actress, the face of a world that thrived on illusions. What did she know about real feelings? About love that wasn't written in a script?
And so, she stayed silent.
But in the quiet moments, when they sat beside a dying fire, when the night stretched endlessly around them, she allowed herself to dream.
One day.
One day, I'll tell him.
****
Eris and Elias had spent months in the war-torn outskirts, surviving in the shadows. But no matter how well they hid, Eris knew she couldn't stay there forever. She was a public figure, and her sudden disappearance had likely sent ripples through the AI cities. If she didn't return soon, questions would turn into rumors, and rumors would turn into dangerous assumptions.
But returning wasn't simple.
AI cities were secure, nearly impenetrable. Entry was meticulously controlled by the Oracle, the governing intelligence that maintained order. Every citizen had a registered digital signature and every visitor required authorization. Lucian, a fugitive from the war zones, had none of these things.
The monolithic walls of the AI City loomed in the distance, a sharp contrast to the war-torn wastelands Eris and Lucian had been forced to endure for months. The city, untouched by the chaos of the outside world, shimmered under its artificial skyline, a technological marvel standing tall amidst the broken remnants of the world beyond.
They had made it back.
Eris adjusted the high-collared cloak that shielded her identity, the fabric lightweight but woven with advanced materials to conceal her biometrics. Lucian, beside her, walked with the practiced ease of someone used to slipping through enemy lines. He was still a fugitive, a man hunted by the mafia he had betrayed, and now an unregistered outsider in the most secure city in the world.
But Eris had a plan.
At the checkpoint, the AI guards scanned approaching travelers with impassive efficiency, their glowing eyes cold and analytical. Citizens passed through effortlessly, their identities verified in milliseconds. For Lucian, it would be different.
Eris took a step forward, her heart steady despite the calculated risk.
One of the guards turned its head toward her, a synthetic voice greeting her in a smooth, emotionless tone.
"Eris Lorne. Verified. Welcome back."
Welcome back, really you think I went for a vacation when in reality I have to constantly have to stay alive...
Those thoughts popped up in Eris's mind as she heard what the guards said, but she composed herself for it's not the time to get back at those who wronged her yet.
Another guard turned toward Lucian.
"Unregistered entity detected. Unauthorized entry prohibited."
Eris smiled, tilting her head slightly, her expression shifting into the effortless charm of a virtual actress who had won over millions. "Oh, that won't be necessary," she said lightly. "He's with me."
The AI guard hesitated for precisely 0.8 seconds, its algorithms processing her words. Eris Lorne was not just any citizen—she was a high-profile virtual actress, an influencer with vast connections, and a hidden genius in engineering. Her words carried weight, enough to trigger a review of protocols rather than immediate rejection.
"I need him with me for a project," she continued, as if she were discussing something as casual as an assistant's transfer. "I assume you aren't about to inconvenience one of the city's most recognizable faces?"
The AI's calculation concluded.
"Temporary clearance granted. Duration: Pending review."
Lucian didn't move, didn't react, but Eris felt his tension ease by a fraction as the checkpoint gates slid open, allowing them passage into the city.
As they stepped past the gates, the difference was suffocating.
The air was crisp, filtered and purified by AI-regulated systems. Neon advertisements flickered along the skyline, showcasing the latest advancements, entertainment, and luxuries. The streets were pristine, automated traffic moving in perfect synchrony. People strolled past, oblivious to the fact that just beyond these walls, war zones raged on.
Lucian had seen a thousand cities, but this one was different. It wasn't just advanced—it was detached from reality.
Eris didn't say anything as they moved deeper into the city. She led him through winding pathways, avoiding major surveillance hubs until they reached her residence—an apartment nestled within one of the elite districts.
The moment the door sealed behind them, the weight of their journey seemed to crash down on them both.
Lucian leaned against the wall, exhaling. "You really think they won't come looking for me?"
Eris slipped off her cloak, her expression unreadable. "They will."
A beat of silence.
Lucian gave a humorless chuckle. "Then why bother bringing me in?"
Eris turned to face him. "Because you wouldn't have survived out there much longer."
He looked at her then, searching for something in her eyes, but Eris had already turned away, walking toward the control panel on the wall. She tapped a few keys, activating a privacy filter that would scramble outgoing surveillance signals.
"You can stay here," she said finally. "But I can't do more than that. Not yet."
Lucian folded his arms, his sharp gaze never leaving her. "Because I'm still a fugitive."
Eris nodded. "And because if they knew you were here, you wouldn't just be a fugitive—you'd be dead."
For months, they had survived together in the wastelands, relying on each other, fighting side by side. But here, inside the walls of a city that functioned on order and control, Lucian was an anomaly that shouldn't exist.
Eris had pulled him into the light.
and now,
He was her housekeeper.
At first, the idea had seemed ridiculous.
Lucian, a hardened survivor of the war zones, a man who had fought battles and taken lives, reduced to… doing household chores?
But strangely enough, he didn't protest.
He simply accepted the role Eris had given him.
And so, every morning, he cleaned the grand, modern apartment where Eris lived. He prepared meals, fixed small maintenance issues, and ensured Eris was safe at all times.
But it wasn't just about housework.
Eris quickly realized that Lucian treated this "housekeeping" job with the same efficiency and precision he applied to combat. He was methodical. Nothing was ever out of place. The apartment had never been cleaner. Meals were prepared with military precision, balanced in nutrients and taste.
And, of course, he never stopped watching.
Even in a city as safe as this, Lucian never let his guard down. He kept track of security feeds. He studied the people who visited Eris. He memorized the city's patrol routes, its weaknesses, its hidden escape paths.
To anyone else, he was just a quiet housekeeper.
To Eris, he was still the warrior who had saved her life.
And though she still hadn't confessed her feelings, she found herself smiling every time she saw him move through her home—so out of place, and yet, as if he had always belonged there.
Not her home, but their home now.
she smiled at that thought
As for Lucian, he had never known what it meant to have a home.
Not truly.
He had lived in countless places—safehouses, hideouts, underground bunkers, and the occasional high-rise penthouse when his work required him to blend into the elite. But none of those places had ever meant anything. They were stops along the way, temporary shelters before the next battle, the next betrayal.
Eris's apartment was different.
At first, he had treated it like another safehouse. He remained on edge, muscles coiled for action, always half-expecting someone to kick down the door or an automated drone to scan him in his sleep. He moved cautiously through the space, his fingers lingering over the smooth surfaces of the furniture, unused to the absence of hidden weapons or escape routes.
But the danger never came.
Instead, days passed, then weeks, and Lucian found himself slipping into a rhythm he hadn't even realized he was capable of.
The apartment was warm—not just in temperature, but in the way it felt. The dim golden lights at night, the faint scent of Eris's tea leaves, the quiet hum of city life beyond the reinforced windows. It was a place designed for living, not surviving.
The first time he truly let his guard down was a quiet evening when Eris had fallen asleep on the couch.
She had been reviewing blueprints on her tablet, her eyes struggling to stay open, but exhaustion had won. Her head lolled slightly to the side, her breathing steady, and for the first time, Lucian wasn't watching her as a potential threat or an ally on a battlefield. He was just watching her.
Something in his chest twisted at the sight.
He should have gotten up, left the room, and retreated into the mental walls he had spent a lifetime fortifying. But instead, he stayed, leaning against the doorway, his usual wariness momentarily drowned out by the sheer quiet of the moment.
A home.
It was a word that had never applied to him, and yet, standing there, watching Eris curled up on that couch, her fingers still loosely holding onto the tablet, he felt it.
And it scared him.
Because he knew that he couldn't stay. He was still a fugitive, still hunted by powerful enemies. This peace, this warmth—it wasn't meant for men like him.
But even as he thought it, Lucian found himself sitting down on the armchair across from her, arms resting over the back, head tilted slightly as he let himself breathe, just for a moment.
Just for tonight.
*****
Eris Lorne had never been the kind to seek vengeance, but this—this was personal.
She had barely survived being smuggled out of her own city, and had clawed her way back through months of hardship, only to find that the ones responsible for her suffering were still sitting comfortably in their ivory towers, untouched.
She wouldn't let it stand.
Not when she had the means to do something about it.
So, she began her quiet war.
It started with whispers, information gathered from the underbelly of the AI-driven city, piecing together the web of deception spun against her. A few well-placed credits to information brokers, some late-night hacking into encrypted databases—Eris traced the power plays, the transactions, the private meetings where her rivals had planned her downfall.
And then, one by one, she tore them apart.
A corporation that had funded her kidnapping suddenly found its financial records laid bare for the authorities—evidence of embezzlement, money laundering, and illegal AI experimentation. Their stock plummeted overnight, their assets frozen, their CEO escorted out of the city in handcuffs.
A rival who had bribed security forces to look the other way on the night of her abduction woke up to find his secrets splashed across every major news feed. His illegal dealings, his connections to banned organizations—he was ruined before he even had the chance to issue a statement.
Others fell just as easily. Some were crushed through legal means, some through carefully placed scandals, and others through more... subtle interventions. A "malfunction" in a rival's AI-controlled production line cost them millions. Another found their research mysteriously leaked to competitors, rendering their work obsolete.
Eris was meticulous, relentless, and utterly unforgiving.
She ensured that not a single one of them could ever threaten her again. But she wasn't just doing this for herself.
She was doing it for Lucian.
For the man who had saved her life more than once. For the man who had protected her, fought beside her, and despite everything, had stayed.
Eris didn't just want him to survive in this city—she wanted him to live.
No more hiding. No more looking over his shoulder. No more existing in the shadows like a fugitive. He deserved more than that.
So she pushed further. She used every bit of influence she had, leveraged every favor she was owed, and climbed the ranks of power within the city until she could finally negotiate.
But making Lucian a citizen was not as simple as destroying her enemies.
Even with her status as an elite virtual actress and a hidden technological genius, the city's governing AI, the Oracle, did not grant citizenship lightly—especially not to a former fugitive with a criminal past.
Eris sat in a private negotiation room, staring at the cold holographic interface of the Oracle's representative.
"We cannot grant Elias Rourke citizenship," the AI's voice was calm, detached, utterly logical. "His history of association with organized crime and his status as an undocumented outsider makes him ineligible."
Eris didn't flinch. "Then tell me what it takes."
And yet, Eris might have what it takes but fate isn't on her side...
Lucian had survived war zones, assassination attempts, and years of relentless pursuit. He had outmaneuvered killers and escaped impossible situations. And yet, in this quiet, sterile apartment—where the greatest threat should have been a broken dish or an unmade bed—he was dying.
His mistake was small. A fraction of a second. A slight miscalculation.
The stalker moved faster than he expected.
Not with the trained grace of a soldier or the honed skill of a killer. No, the man moved with the reckless desperation of someone who had nothing to lose, someone who had spent years obsessing over a fantasy and would do anything to make it real.
Elias had expected hesitation. A tell. A sign. But there was none.
The knife was already buried in his gut before he could fully react.
He staggered back, eyes widening.
The stalker's expression was one of pure triumph.
"Finally… finally…" the man breathed, his eyes wild, his hands trembling from the adrenaline. "You filthy parasite… she's mine now."
Elias tried to lift his arm, but his strength was already slipping.
He was a fool.
Not because he lost. Not because he miscalculated.
But because he let himself believe he could stay.
The darkness at the edges of his vision grew. The pain was distant now, almost weightless, like a dull throb rather than a deep wound.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the cold floor.
Then—the door opened.
And he heard her voice.
"Elias?"
His breath hitched. His fading vision swam, but he could see her—just barely—standing at the doorway.
Her.
Eris.
Her voice became his anchor, and her, his home...
His fingers twitched, desperate to reach for her, to say something—anything.
But there was nothing left.
He exhaled, a broken, reluctant breath.
And then—
Silence.
Eris had gone to the authorities.
She knew she had a stalker. Knew that Elias had been carrying the weight of protecting her alone. And she hated that.
She didn't want to be his burden anymore.
She wanted to ease his burden.
So she had done the responsible thing. She had spoken with the AI security forces, reported the stalker, and even agreed to take them to her apartment to make countermeasures against any future threats.
Everything was supposed to be fine.
She had only been gone for an hour.
Just. One. Hour.
But when she stepped into her home, the air felt wrong.
Then she saw him.
Lucian.
Lying in a growing pool of crimson.
His eyes, once sharp and filled with defiance, were empty.
And beside him, a man—shaking, panting, covered in Elias' blood—looked up at her with a twisted smile.
"You… You came back…" the stalker whispered in awe as if this was all part of some perfect, tragic fantasy.
The officers moved quickly. A flash of movement, a body hitting the floor, a cry of protest.
Eris saw none of it.
Her world had already shattered.
****
Eris Lorne stood in her grand yet desolate office, her figure illuminated by the soft glow of the city skyline outside. The glass walls framed a world that moved on without him. Without Lucian Rourke.
She had kept herself composed, her grief buried beneath layers of duty and control. There were still things to be done—memorials to arrange, records to preserve, his story to be told. She had promised herself that he would not be forgotten.
So she had not allowed herself to grieve. Not yet.
The visit from Edric and Lyra had been expected. They had come to inquire about Lucian—about how he had died, what had happened in his final moments. They wanted the truth. And she had given it to them, the raw heartsplitting truth as she knows.
But after they left, she rested for a bit but had to go to her office to work, to make her promise come true, and yet the room's silence pressed down on her.
And that was when it happened.
A sharp breath, an ache deep in her chest, a cracking in the foundation she had so carefully built. Eris gripped the edge of her desk as if it could anchor her, but the weight of his absence was too much.
He was gone.
Lucian, the man who had saved her, the man she had fought for, the man she had wanted to give a life worth living—gone.
A choked sound escaped her lips, and she clenched her jaw, shaking her head violently as if denying reality would rewrite it. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms until the pain sharpened her senses, until she could remind herself—not now, not yet.
But the grief did not listen.
She turned away from the desk, one arm wrapping around her stomach as though she could hold herself together. Her breath hitched, her vision blurred, and before she could stop herself, she staggered against the nearest wall, her forehead pressing against the cold glass.
The city outside was so alive. People moved beneath the neon glow of artificial lights, oblivious to the storm raging within her.
He should have been here.
Her fingers trembled as she reached up, as if she could grasp onto the memory of him, but there was nothing to hold.
The room felt empty without his presence.
Her shoulders shook. She pressed her palm against her mouth, forcing back the sound, refusing to give in completely.
There was still too much to do.
Too much left unfinished.
She had to ensure that Lucian would not fade into obscurity, that people would remember him not as a fugitive, not as a shadow, but as the man he truly was.
She had promised him a life where he could walk freely.
And even though she had failed him in life, she would not fail him in death.
Swallowing hard, she straightened, exhaling through clenched teeth. The grief, raw and overwhelming, was still there—but she forced it into a corner of her heart, locking it away.
Later.
She would grieve later.
For now, there was still work to be done