Chapter 107

The city smelled of rain and asphalt as I stepped out onto the balcony, letting the cool evening air wash over me. I gripped the railing, staring at the street below where shadows moved like ghosts. Even after hours of planning with Torin, the weight of anticipation clung to my shoulders like a second skin. Lucien was out there somewhere, and I could feel his presence in the spaces between sounds, in the flicker of headlights, in the sudden hush of the world around me.

Torin came up behind me, hands warm on my waist, anchoring me to the present. “You’ve got that look,” he murmured. “That look that says you’re thinking too far ahead.”

I leaned back into him, letting my head rest against his chest. “I can’t help it,” I admitted softly. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him. Planning. Watching. Waiting. I feel like I’m already inside one of his traps.”

He kissed the crown of my head, his jaw tight with worry. “Then we make the trap ours before he even thinks of it,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “We’re the hunters this time. Not him. Not ever.”

I pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It anchored me, gave me courage I didn’t think I still had. “I don’t want to be scared anymore,” I whispered. “I want to live without… this constant shadow hanging over me.”

Torin’s thumb traced idle circles on my skin. “Then we take it back,” he said. “Every moment, every breath. He doesn’t get to control the narrative. We do. Together.”

I nodded, letting his words sink in. For the first time in days, the fear felt manageable. The knot of anxiety in my stomach loosened, replaced with a steady pulse of determination. We take control. Together.

He pulled me close, one hand sliding down to hold mine while the other rested at the small of my back. “I’ve got eyes on every entrance, every street around here. If he comes, we’ll see him first. And I swear…” His voice dropped, low and rough, “…he won’t get what he wants.”

I closed my eyes against him, letting his warmth seep into my bones. “I trust you,” I said. “Completely.”

“And I’ll never give him a chance,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Ever. You’re mine, Marlowe. And I’ll kill anyone who thinks differently.”

A shiver ran through me, part fear, part thrill. I leaned into him, inhaling the scent of his leather jacket and something uniquely him. He’s my anchor, I realized. Even when everything else is chaos, he’s the constant I can hold onto.

We stayed on the balcony for a long while, listening to the rain patter on the streets below, the distant hum of the city alive and indifferent to our little war. Torin’s presence was a balm, steady and reassuring, but the tension never fully left. Lucien’s shadow stretched across every thought, every breath.

Eventually, we moved inside, and Torin immediately began scanning the latest updates Casey had sent. Maps, street cams, patterns of movement—it was a dizzying array of data, but he absorbed it with the precision I’d come to admire. Every glance, every calculation, was a preparation for the inevitable confrontation.

I perched on the arm of the couch, watching him work, tracing idle patterns on the fabric. “Do you ever get tired?” I asked softly, not entirely rhetorical. “Of this constant vigilance?”

Torin didn’t look up, fingers flying across the keyboard. “Never. Not when it comes to you.” His voice was soft but firm. “I’ll never get tired of keeping you safe, Marlowe. Not while I’m breathing.”

I felt my chest tighten at his words. God, I love him, I thought. I can’t even begin to imagine my life without him now.

He finally looked up, eyes dark, intense, and focused. “Lucien’s not reckless. He’s clever. He’s patient. And he thinks patience is on his side. But he’s wrong. Every move he makes, we’ve already accounted for. Every trap, every distraction… we’ve got it covered.”

I nodded, trying to absorb the reassurance. “And if he surprises us?”

Torin’s gaze softened for a fleeting second, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Then we adapt. We improvise. But he won’t break us, Marlowe. Not you, not me. Not together.”

The room seemed to shrink around us, the intensity of his presence leaving little room for fear. Yet it was still there, lurking in the corners, in the spaces between words. Lucien wasn’t gone; he wasn’t passive. He was waiting for the perfect opening, and we both knew it.

But I also knew something else. I’m not alone. And neither is he. Torin’s hand found mine again, thumb brushing over the back, a silent promise that no matter what came, we’d face it together.

The evening stretched into night, and the city outside remained a restless entity. Torin’s focus never wavered, and I stayed close, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, the tautness of his muscles, the steady reassurance of him beside me. There was a fire between us, a connection forged in danger and tempered by trust.

By the time the clock struck midnight, we had reviewed every possible scenario, memorized escape routes, and readied contingencies. And though the threat of Lucien loomed, there was a sense of quiet triumph in the preparedness. We weren’t passive. We weren’t waiting. We were ready.

Torin pressed a light kiss to my forehead before settling beside me, pulling me close. “Sleep now,” he whispered. “Tomorrow is another battle, and we need all our strength.”

I closed my eyes, resting against him, letting the warmth of his body ease the tension I’d carried all day. We fight together. We survive together. And no matter what, I’m not afraid with him by my side.

Outside, the city slept under the rain, unaware of the war being waged in one small apartment. Inside, Torin and I clung to each other, the fire of desire tempered by the steel of our resolve. Lucien could wait. We were ready.

And when he came, we would be waiting too.