Page 27

Lucien smoothed his silk tie, though his hands were still trembling slightly. "He’s right. The shop is compromised. We need to move you to a location that can be layered with high-tier wards. My penthouse has a dedicated magical anchor. It is the easiest to protect and the hardest to breach."

I looked at the charred remains of my display and then at Violet. My familiar was in a foul mood, her tail thumping against the countertop like a whip. She was an angry, knowing creature, her silver eyes narrow and accusatory as she watched the men, clearly unimpressed by the intrusion into our sanctuary.

"Fine," I exhaled, the weight of the decision settling in my chest. "Wait here."

I didn't give either of them a chance to argue. Under their watchful, razor-sharp gazes, I moved toward the back of the shop, kneeling near the heavy wooden floorboards by the rear display. My hands trembled slightly as I released the masking ward, feeling the sudden, thrumming hum of raw magic fill the air.

Neither Kael nor Lucien moved a muscle, though I could feel the sudden, intense heat of their focus burning into my back as I pried the board loose and lifted the shard from its hiding place.

"I'm packing," I said, rising with the artifact wrapped tightly in spell-cloth and tucked against my side. "And then we leave."

I headed upstairs, my mind already running through a tactical checklist. I needed clothes that were practical but professional, my primary spellbook, and a few volumes of history I couldn't risk losing to a second fire. I packed a small bag with essentials, but most of my concern was for my familiar. I gathered Violet’s favourite woollen blanket and her ceramic bowls before nudging her toward the carrier. Violet did not go quietly. She let out a low, guttural hiss as I coaxed her inside, a sound of pure outrage that echoed through the flat. As the door clicked shut, she settled into a series of grumpy, low-frequency growls that didn't stop even as we headed back down the stairs.

We left by the back alley, Kael tossing my bags into the boot of the borrowed car. The plan was a classic diversion. Lucien climbed into his own well-known luxury vehicle and drove toward the city centre, acting as the perfect bait for any eyes on the street. Kael, meanwhile, navigated the hatchback through the winding backstreets of the South District. Violet was vocal the entire journey. Her muffled, indignant sounds from the backseat served as a constant soundtrack to my anxiety, as the carrier jostled from the uneven pavement.

We pulled into the secure underground car park of Lucien’s building twenty minutes later. It was a fortress of concrete and steel, guarded by both cameras, scanners and invisible, humming wards. Lucien was already there, having ditched his car at work and taken a taxi to meet us.

He stood by the elevator, his expression guarded as he watched us climb out of the car. He stepped forward as I reached for the carrier, his hand brushing mine as he took the handle from me. He peered through the mesh at the bristling calico inside.

"Welcome home, Violet," Lucien said softly, his amber eyes meeting the cat’s narrowed silver gaze. He offered a small, weary smile as we stepped into the lift. "Try not to scratch the polished wooden floors."

Lucien

The elevator began its smooth, silent ascent toward the penthouse, but inside the brushed steel cabin, the air was thick enough to choke on. I stood with my eyes fixed on the digital floor numbers, though I didn't see them. I saw the man standing on the other side of Ivy.

Fifty years was a heartbeat to men like us, but it was long enough for a grudge to grow teeth. Kael’s jaw was a jagged line of granite, his arms crossed over his chest in a posture of pure, unyielding defence. We hadn't always been this way.

I looked at him in the reflection of the lift doors and for a second, the years stripped away. I remembered the grit of that Eastcourt gym in the seventies and the way the air felt at the top of the North Range before the world went sour. We had been each other's only truth in a city built on lies. That is, until Hazel.

She had been a master of the long con, a magical weaver who had systematically dismantled the trust between us until I found Kael in her bed. I hadn't seen a mistake that night. I had seen a betrayal that levelled my world. The brawl that followed had turned us into the monsters the Council always claimed we were. We hadn't shared a breath or a word since the night she disappeared with our secrets.

Now, fifty years later, we were circling the same flame again. I looked at Ivy, her red hair dusted with a fine layer of ash, her shoulders set with a stubborn, exhausting strength. This wasn't Hazel. But as I watched Kael’s thumb brush her sleeve, I felt a phantom ache in my own palms. I didn't just want to protect Ivy. I wanted to remember what it felt like to be on the same side of the door as him. I wasn't going to be the one left standing in the hallway this time—because this time, the bed was big enough for all of us.

Ivy

The elevator hummed, but the atmosphere inside was screaming. I looked from Lucien’s pale, controlled fury to Kael’s vibrating tension. They weren't looking at each other, but the energy between them was a live wire, jagged and dangerous. I knew they had a history—you didn't look at someone with that much concentrated loathing unless you had once looked at them with something else—but the details were a locked room I didn't have the key to yet.

The lift chimed, the doors sliding open to the private foyer of the penthouse. Lucien stepped out first, but he stopped and turned, his amber eyes reflecting the soft, warm light of the apartment.

“Inside,” he said, his voice a low, velvet rasp. “The street is behind us now.”

The penthouse was a fortress of glass and mahogany, smelling of expensive citrus and old magic. Lucien led me toward the bedroom, stopping only to place the shard in a reinforced safe hidden behind a mahogany panel. The heavy click of the lock felt like a finality I wasn't ready for.

“You need a shower and some warm clothes, Ivy,” Lucien said, his voice commanding but his eyes betraying a deep, restless concern.

Kael, meanwhile, was surprisingly domestic with Violet. He let her out of the carrier, watching with guarded respect as she began to pace the perimeter of the sprawling living area. He set up her things in a quiet corner, and I watched my familiar sniff at the lavish surroundings before letting out a sharp, approving meow.

“I… okay,” I said quietly, tears finally falling and blurring my vision, as the weight of the last few hours crashed into me.

Lucien guided me toward the bathroom. As I stripped and stepped under the warm spray, I could hear the low, muffled rumble of their voices through the door. I leaned back against the tile, letting the water run as hot as I could stand it. I watched the grey residue of the shop fire spiral down the drain, imagining my fear and exhaustion washing away with it.

By the time I turned off the taps, my limbs felt like lead. I wrapped myself in a thick, oversized towel and stepped out into the steam.

Lucien was leaning against the doorframe, his eyes tracking me with a fierce, quiet intensity. Kael was just behind him, his jaw set, his gaze raking over me to ensure I was truly unharmed. The air was thick with a sudden, unspoken desire, but as I stumbled slightly, the predatory hunger in their gazes shifted instantly into protectiveness.

“Bed,” Kael grumbled, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“I can walk,” I whispered, though my knees were already betraying me.