Aria didn't expect to find him there.
Lucien stood in the dim hallway outside her room, one hand braced against the wall, the other clenched tightly at his side as if he were fighting something inside himself. His dark hair fell over his eyes, wet from the rain outside, and his shirt clung to him like he had been walking for hours.
Aria froze.
"What are you doing here?"
Lucien lifted his head slowly. His eyes were different tonight—not cold, not cruel—just… exhausted. And underneath it, something she had never seen before.
"Aria," he said quietly. "Open the door."
Her heart pitched sharply.
No. She should walk past him, pretend she didn't hear the change in his voice, pretend she didn't care.
But she opened the door anyway.
Lucien stepped inside, and the air in the room tightened. He looked around like he was making sure she was safe, like he was fighting with himself over every breath.
"You disappeared for hours," he said. "Damian couldn't find you. No one could."
"So you came?" Aria asked, lifting her chin.
His jaw flexed.
"I didn't have a choice."
Her pulse thudded. "Why? You don't even like me."
Lucien laughed once—quiet, humorless.
"If I didn't like you, things would be easier."
That stopped her breath. Completely.
His gaze locked onto hers, craving and restrained at the same time.
"Aria… you don't understand what you are walking into. The investigations, the men following you, your sister's disappearance—everything is connected. And you…" He hesitated, voice low. "…you are in the center of it."
Aria stepped closer without thinking. "Then explain it to me."
"I can't," he whispered. "Not yet."
"Then why are you here?" her voice trembled.
Lucien's breathing shifted. A slow inhale. A long exhale. Like he was losing a battle inside himself.
"Because every time something happens, every time I hear your name, every time you disappear—"
He stopped.
Aria's heart hammered as she whispered, "Every time what?"
Lucien lifted his hand—slowly, unsure—and brushed his fingers against her cheek. Just a graze. Barely a touch. But it felt like fire spreading across her skin.
"Every time," he said, voice rough and breaking, "I feel like I'm going to lose my mind."
Aria inhaled sharply, the room closing around her. The tension between them thickened—dangerous, forbidden, magnetic.
Her voice came out soft. "Lucien…"
He stepped back suddenly, like he'd burned himself on the moment.
"No," he muttered. "I shouldn't be here."
"Then why are you?" Aria demanded, stepping after him.
He looked at her, a war in his eyes.
"Because I can't stay away from you."
The words hit her like a tremor.
But before she could speak, before she could touch him, before she could ask him what he meant—
Someone knocked on the door.
Three slow, deliberate knocks.
Lucien's entire body tensed.
"That's not Damian," he whispered.
Aria swallowed. "Then who—?"
Lucien grabbed her wrist gently but urgently.
"Stay behind me."
The knocking grew harder.
Lucien leaned close to her ear, his voice low and sharp with fear he tried to hide:
"Aria… whatever you do, don't open that door."