The city had never felt quieter.
Lucifer stood in his penthouse with every light turned off, letting the darkness swallow the room until only the faint glow of the moon framed his silhouette. He didn't usually allow silence—he preferred music, noise, energy, sin. But tonight, the quiet suited him. It sharpened his anger into something cold and precise.
Downstairs, Lux throbbed with life—music pounding, bodies moving, laughter echoing. No one below could sense the tension coiled in their owner. No one felt the shift in the air. No one smelled the distant trace of danger threading through the city like smoke.
But Lucifer felt it.
The moment the gunman fled the warehouse, a tether had connected him to the threat—a disturbance in the balance, a tremor only a celestial being could sense. Someone powerful had interfered in the detective's case. Someone who wasn't afraid to kill openly.
Someone who believed they were beyond consequences.
Lucifer exhaled once, slow and controlled. "A mistake," he murmured into the dark. "A very grave mistake."
Behind him, the shadows stirred.
Maze didn't knock. She slipped inside silently, leaning her daggers on the bar counter before crossing her arms. "You let her go home alone."
Lucifer didn't move. "She was safe."
Maze scoffed. "No one who gets shot at twice in one day is safe."
"Chloe insists she can take care of herself."
"You know that's not the point."
Lucifer finally turned. His eyes were calm, but Maze could see the storm behind them. "If I hover too closely, she will ask questions I am not prepared to answer."
Maze stepped closer. "Then stop pretending you're not attached. Because this hesitation—this fear—it's making you slow."
"I am not afraid," Lucifer said sharply.
"You are," Maze replied. "Afraid she'll see what you really are. Afraid she'll run. And that fear is exactly what your enemies will use against you."
For the first time in a long while, Maze saw something unfamiliar flicker in Lucifer's expression.
Not arrogance.
Not smugness.
Not fury.
Regret.
Before she could speak, Lucifer's head snapped toward the window—he sensed something.
A shift.
A presence.
A threat.
The glass vibrated lightly, almost imperceptibly. Maze's hand went to her blade, instincts sharpening instantly.
But then it was gone.
Lucifer's jaw clenched. "Someone is watching her."
Maze drew her second blade. "So what are you waiting for?"
Lucifer closed his eyes. "For them to make a mistake I can punish."
Across the city, Chloe sat at her kitchen table, elbow propped against her coffee mug, staring at photos from the case. The victim. The blackmail evidence. The body from the warehouse. The painted threat on the wall.
Her instinct told her everything was connected, but she couldn't find the nexus. Something didn't fit. Something was missing.
She rubbed her forehead, sighing. "What am I not seeing?"
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
Chloe froze.
Her hand slid quietly beneath the table until her fingers touched her holstered weapon. She stood slowly, forcing her breathing to stay steady. She stepped toward the hallway, the house far too still for her liking.
"Hello?" she called softly.
Silence.
But not an empty silence.
A silence that felt occupied.
A faint hum—like the air shifting—echoed through the hallway. Chloe raised her weapon, inching forward.
Then—
A soft knock at the door.
Chloe nearly jumped out of her skin. She moved swiftly to the front window, checking the porch.
Lucifer.
Of course.
She opened the door, irritation and relief battling in her expression. "Do you knock now? That's new."
Lucifer's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I thought barging in might give the wrong impression given… recent events."
Chloe folded her arms. "What's going on?"
"I sensed something," Lucifer said. "Near your house."
"Sensed?"
"Detective, when it comes to danger, I have excellent instincts."
Chloe stared at him. "Is someone watching me?"
Lucifer didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
Chloe stepped aside. "Come in."
The moment she closed the door behind him, the room seemed to settle—like the air recognized Lucifer and reluctantly backed away. Chloe watched him scan her house with a predator's stillness.
"Everything looks normal," she said.
"That doesn't mean it is," Lucifer replied.
He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. "Whoever shot that man wasn't just trying to silence him. They were demonstrating reach. Efficiency. Confidence."
"And you think they'll try again?"
"I think," Lucifer said carefully, "that you are involved in something larger than a simple murder. And I think the person behind it believes you are a threat."
Chloe swallowed. "Are you staying because of the case? Or because you think I'm in danger?"
Lucifer looked at her for a long moment—long enough for her to see the truth behind his eyes.
"I stay because I choose to," he said finally. "And because leaving would be… unacceptable."
Chloe felt her heartbeat spike—but before she could respond, the living room lamp flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then went out completely.
Chloe spun toward the hallway. Lucifer's entire body tensed.
The silence returned.
But this time, it was thick. Heavy. Wrong.
Lucifer stepped in front of Chloe without hesitation. "Stay behind me."
A soft tapping came from the hallway wall.
Not footsteps.
Not breathing.
Something else.
Chloe gripped her gun. "What is that?"
Lucifer's voice dropped to a whisper. "Something unnatural."
He stepped forward. The tapping stopped.
Then—
A dark shape streaked past the hallway opening, impossibly fast. Chloe sucked in a breath; Lucifer's eyes flashed with a dangerous glow.
Chloe whispered, "What was that—?"
Lucifer didn't answer.
Because he already knew.
A celestial presence—not angelic, not demonic—something in between. A hunter. A scout.
A warning.
The message was clear:
Back off.
Lucifer's voice was low, furious. "They dare."
Chloe's voice wavered. "Lucifer… what's happening?"
He turned to her slowly, expression softened by something she rarely saw—fear for her.
"Detective," he said, "someone has now entered your home."
Chloe felt a jolt of cold.
Lucifer stepped closer, his voice steady but edged with something primal. "You are no longer investigating a case. You are being hunted."
Chloe's breath caught. "By who?"
Lucifer looked toward the hallway, eyes glowing faintly.
"By someone who believes you matter," he said quietly. "And someone who knows I care."
The last word slipped out before he could stop it.
Chloe froze.
Lucifer froze.
The air felt electric.
Maze's warning echoed in his mind.
You're slipping.
You're getting attached.
And that makes you weak.
Lucifer clenched his jaw, fighting the vulnerability clawing up his spine. He refused to show fear. Not for himself.
But for her?
Yes.
He was afraid.
Chloe swallowed hard. "Lucifer… what do we do now?"
Lucifer's expression shifted, hardening. The Devil resurfaced—not the playboy, not the flirt, but the ancient being forged in rebellion and fire.
"Now," he said, voice cold and resonant, "we hunt them."
Chloe exhaled shakily. "Together?"
Lucifer met her eyes with a dangerous promise. "I will not let anything happen to you."
A gust of wind rattled the windows.
Chloe stepped closer, voice steadier than her racing heart. "Then let's find them."
Lucifer smiled—but it was nothing like his normal smirk. It was colder. Sharper. A smile that belonged to someone preparing for war.
"Very well, Detective," he said softly. "Let the games begin."
And outside, in the shadows just beyond the streetlight's reach, something moved.
Watching.
Waiting.
Listening.
And smiling back.